It Will Always Be You (You Series Book 1)

by Tina Ness

  True or not, his sweet confession makes me smile. “I did too.”

  “So how was your day?” he asks.

  “Well, I started out my day with a run.” I roll my shoulders back, realizing the immense tension I’ve been carrying all day. “Did some grocery shopping. And the usual Sunday dinner at my parents’. How about you?”

  “You have dinner with your parents every Sunday?” He looks amused.

  “Well, most Sundays.”

  “Your family is close then?”

  I can see he likes this bit of information. “Well, yes, I would say we’re pretty close. Are you close to your family?”

  “My parents split when I was four. My mom moved to California with my older brother while my sister and I stayed here with my dad. He was remarried twenty-five years ago to my stepmom. I have a stepsister too. My Minnesota family is close.”

  The crisp air gives me goosebumps, but it feels oh so good.

  “You getting chilly, Beth? Want to head in?”

  “I’m fine. It’s such a beautiful night,” I say, looking out over the water.

  He moves in closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Does this help?”

  “Mmm. Sure does.” The excitement makes my goosebumps double in size. I feel his warm breath near my ear.

  “You smell so good.” His voice whispers in my ear.

  I forget that questions still remain about last night. I tilt my head to the side, and his mouth again closes over mine. We can’t seem to get in too much conversation before the attraction we feel for one another takes over. His warm hand grabs ahold of my waist, relaxing me deeper into our embrace. My hand travels to his chest. His solid pecks are hard under my hand, and the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat makes me shiver with need. I fully give in to the soft swipes of his tongue, melting into him. My desire for this man is so deep I need to have him, but I need to say this. I pull away. “Marshall this is … is—”

  “Going too fast.” He finishes my sentence.

  But no, that’s not it. I wanted to tell him how this feels so great and somehow boldly state my desire for him. Yet once again, I am astounded by how he can be so very passionate, nearly primal one moment, but in the next breath, he’s a true gentleman. I realize I’m staring at him. I have no words.

  We look at each other for seconds, maybe minutes—I don’t know how long—before he says, “Beth, there’s something about me you need to know.” He lowers his gaze.

  My heart sinks. Oh, God, no. Please no. Don’t say you’re in a relationship. Does he want me to join a swingers club? What if he’s gay? Heck no, not the way I’ve seen him look at me.

  “You’re cold. Let’s go in and talk. Or I’ll go get the comforter off the bed?”

  “Let’s stay out,” I suggest, knowing the cold air is keeping my head clear and keeping me from attacking him like a wild cat. The luxurious Lakeview Penthouse bed looks quite warm, and being wrapped up in it with him is exactly what I want, but I want to hear him out. I want to know if what I plan to do with Marshall is going to be something I can live with when it’s all over.

  He heads in to grab us a blanket, leaving me with my head swirling and my body trembling with fear of what’s to come. Or perhaps it’s just the cool night air—I’m not sure which.

  A buzzing sound coming from the spot next to me that he vacated only seconds ago beckons my attention. His phone must have fallen from his pocket. I don’t mean to be nosy, but I catch a glimpse of the name on the phone. It’s Aubrey. It’s her, the beautiful blond who was here the other night, Miss Mile-Long Legs. I swallow hard.

  “Marshall, your phone is buzzing,” I tell him reluctantly. He steps out onto the balcony and looks down at the rattling phone. I pray he won’t answer.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to get this.” He hands me the blanket and heads back into the room. In a hushed voice, right before he heads into the bathroom, I can hear him say, “Do you need me to come over?”

  Shaking with frustration and disappointment, I decide that’s my cue to leave. I can’t compete with her. I’m better than just a name on his list of “beautiful ladies.” Get out now, before he gets the chance to break your heart.

  I head quickly out the door and to the elevator, nervously spinning my ring. How on earth did I think I could do this? Be the other woman. Be that new notch on his bedpost. I’m lightheaded as I lean my shoulder against the elevator wall. My name echoes down the hallway. I can’t look at him. He can’t see the pale, heartbroken face that looks back at me in the mirrored elevator wall. With three hard stabs, I hit the door-close button, and down I go, clutching my chest. I run as fast as I can to my car before any of my coworkers have a chance to see me

  Chapter 9

  Monday, May 24

  I fully intend to spend my entire shift on paperwork, hidden away from yesterday, so it’s a good thing that Kiki is still at her wicked mother-in-law’s (well, not so good for her) and that Krystal has the front desk covered.

  “Someone is here to see you.” Krystal grins, peeking her head around the office door.

  “I told you I didn’t want to see him,” I say, shaking my head before resting it on my hand, elbow unsteady on the desk. The thought of him standing outside that door, waiting for me to come out, churns my stomach. It’s just after eight, so he hasn’t left for his morning meeting yet.

  Krystal looks back, putting one finger up. “It will be just a second,” she says before walking into the office.

  “It’s not Marshall, Lizzie. It’s Peter. You think the boys will duke it out for you? Who do you think would win?” Her amusement triggers my frustration.

  I shake my head at her and rise from the office chair. I haven’t told Krystal what happened last night, only that I wasn’t sure if it was going to work with Marshall, him living in Minneapolis and only visiting Duluth every couple of weeks. I figure it would be best to cut my ties with him now. What little ties there are. I can’t deny the fiery passion and the strange sense of connection I felt so quickly for someone I hardly know. I need to get my mind off of him, and Peter might be exactly what I need.

  “I hoped I’d find you here.” He props his elbow on the front desk in what I’d imagine is his attempt to look GQ.

  “Oh, was I missing?” My humor attempt is a slam dunk, as he tips his head back and laughs.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink or dinner tonight.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Marshall entering the lobby. I make my way around the desk so I’m face-to-face with Peter, doing my best to pretend I don’t see Marshall and feeling like a child while I do so.

  “Where were you thinking?” I ask, trying to keep my composure.

  “Wherever you want to go.”

  “How about Blackwater Lounge?” I suggest, knowing Marshall is within earshot. “I hear they have really great martinis.”

  I can no longer avoid looking at Marshall since he is at Peter’s side.

  Peter looks over too. “Hey, Marshall, have you met Elizabeth?” Peter then turns to me. “Elizabeth, this is my cousin’s partner, Marshall. Remember I told you they own the absinthe distillery I work for?”

  My eyes grow big as I look over at Marshall.

  So he isn’t Peter’s cousin … which means he’s the one who is married. Oh, this is much worse than his having a girlfriend. So is Aubrey his girlfriend and Sweet Sarah his wife? I had convinced myself that he couldn’t be married, that if he were married, it must be rocky at best since he doesn’t wear a ring. The part of me that didn’t care either way as long as I could have him rises in my throat. Feeling dizzy, I stagger back a step. I nervously look down at my hands where a tight grip on my ring has whitened my knuckles. I feel like I’m going to go down any minute.

  “Are you okay?” Peter asks, placing a hand my shoulder. “You look a little pale.”

  I look up but can’t bring myself to look over at Marshall.

  What was his plan last night? To tell me he was married
? And what? Did he expect me to be okay with it? What kind of person does he take me for?

  “Sure, Peter, I would love to go out on a date with you again, and I am free tonight,” I say, knowing very well I will regret it later.

  “Great. Write down your number and I’ll call you when I get off work at five, and we can figure out the details.”

  As I write down my number, I can feel Marshall’s eyes on me. I hand the paper to Peter with a forced smile.

  This clearly rattles Marshall. He moves closer to me and takes hold of my wrist.

  “Why did you leave last night?” A sorrow set deep in his baby blues looks back at me.

  I shake off his grip. “You sorry excuse for a man, you don’t deserve an answer. What do you take me for? A complete idiot?” My shock and horror turns quickly to anger. I glance over at Peter, whose face drops as he takes several steps back, clearly struck by my words.

  “Whoa, where did that come from, Beth? What did I do?” Marshall says as he winces.

  “You have some nerve,” I spit. I turn to say, “I look forward to hearing from you later, Peter.” I manage a smile, but it’s miles from reciprocated. I head into the office, and I’m trapped in here with no other exit.

  Marshall comes into the office. “Beth, I really want to talk to you.”

  “You’re not allowed back here. Plus I have no interest in anything you have to say.”

  “Please give me a chance to talk to you.” His face is red with embarrassment, but his eyes blaze with urgency.

  I slow down for just a second as I consider letting him talk. I keep my back to him, covering my face with my hands and trying to steady my breath in the heavy air of our silence. I’d asked him if he thought I was an idiot, and the fact of the matter is, I am. I can’t do this. I can’t be with a married man. As much as I long to be touched by him, it’s the sting of knowing what I was willing to do that strikes my heart. How naïve of me to think he may have actually been interested in more than just sex. I wanted so badly for every one of his sweet words to be honest.

  “I think it’s best if you leave.” The words sting as they pass over my lips.

  I hear him take a deep breath. “All right” is all he says, then he’s gone.

  Chapter 10

  Tuesday, June 1

  May passes into June. Peter never calls me. Not that I’m surprised in the least. I suppose he is one of Marshall’s employees, and who wants to piss off the boss? Poor guy looked terrified when he realized Marshall and I knew each other. There’s really no potential with Peter anyway, right?

  Five of the longest days in my four years at Beacon are under my belt, and for all of them, Marshall was still back in Minneapolis, leaving no chance of my running into him. Knowing that I would have slept with a married man if I’d had the chance consumes my thoughts, but it’s the persistent wish that I’d never known he was married and that I’d have been brave enough to carry out my fantasies that has me rattled. I wanted—needed—to know what being with a man like Marshall would have felt like.

  I finally have a day off. Krystal has insisted on coming over to get me out of my “funk.” She’s due to arrive in a half hour, so I decide to check my e-mail. Another mess of class reunion bullshit floods my inbox, only this time, I see there is a Facebook page for our graduating class, and I have an invite.

  My finger hovers over the accept button while I contemplate what this means. I’m friends with some of my classmates, but I hardly ever look to see what they’re up to. Do I really want to be noticed, so more of them decide to friend me, granting them a look inside my mundane life? I decide not to accept, until I spot a small thumbnail with the picture of a baby and the name Holly (Pierce) Osborn. The post reads, “A few more pictures from back in the day.”

  I go to my page and change my profile picture to one of me and a guy from The Walking Dead, his arm around me; he’d stayed at Beacon two years ago. At least one exciting thing has happened in my life that I can show off. After adding interior designer to my jobs, I reluctantly hit accept on my group invite.

  I go right to the photos. Just as Holly had said, there were pictures from high school, and I’m in many of them: She and I peeking out of the top of Tanner’s red Camaro; several lake shots from the big graduation bash, where I later hooked up with Tanner; and, last but not least, one of my favorite pictures of her and me, smiling faces, arms around each other’s shoulders, sporting our best-friends-forever necklaces. I’m saddened by the fact that Holly and I are no longer in touch after fifteen years of friendship.

  As kids, Holly, Rose, and I played house. I always seemed to get the role of the dad, but only because Rose and Holly always called the shots. I just kept my mouth shut. It was easier that way. It kept us from fighting, which I still try to avoid at all costs. Only when I was alone on the rarest of occasions did I get the chance to play the role of a mom or a bride and daydream about what it would be like to kiss a boy.

  My first kiss was in the ninth grade, and it was nothing like my fantasies told me it would be. Wet, sloppy, and nervous—yuck. I was less than eager to kiss another boy after that day. I kissed a few more toads and even let one of them take my virginity. Surprise!—Not a prince in the lot. It wasn’t until the summer after graduation when I started sleeping with Tanner that I felt anything in a kiss.

  It wasn’t love, but pure lust. Tanner was wild, kinky, and always in the mood. I loved the attention he gave to me and how he always wanted to try new things. Wanting to be adventurous where sex is concerned has never been a problem, but I keep finding myself settling for what I know and never taking any risks.

  Kissing Gavin was like kissing a toad again, though I told myself time and time again that it wasn’t. But kissing Marshall had been something else entirely. It wasn’t like kissing Tanner and definitely not like kissing any of the toads. It was a shockwave through my entire being, an emotion I have never felt. It was new, but it was wrong. How can that be possible? I feel sick to my stomach with the thought of never kissing those gorgeous lips again, never getting the chance to explore the rest of him in every way possible. I think Marshall has ruined me. I can’t even fathom feeling a fire like that for anyone else.

  I look at a few other classmate profiles. Most are married, some with new babies, and others are lucky enough to travel. My gut twists with envy. Even after being in a relationship with a pilot, I’ve never been in an airplane and have traveled no farther than Wisconsin. I send a message to Holly, asking how she’s doing and congratulating her on the birth of her third child.

  “Maybe they’re swingers,” Krystal says when she finally arrives. She plops down on the couch next to me. She’s holding two shots glasses for the tequila, one for each of us. Along with pizza, tequila is her usual cure-all for crappiness. She’s one of those girls who eats and drinks what she wants, never works out, and never seems to gain an ounce of weight. As much as I love my good friend, I can’t help but find myself peeved by this.

  She knew after Marshall’s visit the other morning that there was more to it all than I let on. She pours us each a generous shot of tequila.

  “Swingers? That sounds more like something up your alley,” I mutter sarcastically before downing my shot and following it with a shot of pineapple juice—much better than salt and lime she calls training wheels —a trick Krystal taught me to put out the burn.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Lizzie? No really, in all seriousness, I think you need to give him a chance to talk. That guy looks at you like he wants to lick you from head to toe.” She nudges me with her shoulder.

  “Maybe I should get myself some cats. Give up on love. Let the inevitable happen and become an old maid.”

  Krystal snorts. “For fuck sake, Liz, you’re only twenty-six. No need to go all doomsday.”

  “I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but I needed to throw a little pity party for myself.” We share a laugh. “Anyway, what could he possibly say to me that would make any of this okay? He named
his top-shelf absinthe after his wife, Sweet Sarah. Those were Peter’s words. Why do you think Peter was so shocked? I know it was because he couldn’t believe that Marshall is a cheating ass. Man, can I pick ’em.” Anger bubbles up again in my throat.

  “He’s not Gavin, honey. I know men, and I’m not convinced that that pretty boy is the cheating type.”

  “Well, we both know I’m not the best judge of character. I picked you as my best friend.” I eye her with a wan smile.

  After a few more shots of tequila and one too many slices of pizza, I call it. “I don’t feel like talking about it anymore. I’m exhausted.” I’m so glad Krystal brought a movie, some action film. No chick flicks for Krystal, and for once, I’m grateful.

  ***

  Wednesday, June 2

  I’ve once again become a drone, going back and forth between my townhouse and Beacon Pointe, and I’ve begun to wonder what the point of my life is. Why am I settling for less than I’m capable of achieving? Why have I prevented myself from pursuing my dream? Is it because I failed with Marshall? I’ve been so determined to keep my mind off of Marshall that I’ve hardly touched my design portfolio.

  It’s a rainy evening, and I collapse onto my couch with my tablet and decide that the words my father spoke about having my back and believing in me should not go unheard. I decide to buy a website domain and hosting package. I go with www.elizabethrosedesign.com, and within an hour, I have a website. I wonder what advice Marshall would have for me starting a new business? What would working alongside Marshall be like? Would I have the ability to focus with him next to me?

  I lose myself in my work, all the while trying not to think about the disastrous experience with Marshall. Derek told me about his cousin Max, who is a great photographer and is just out of college. Thankfully, I can afford to hire him.