Proposing to Preston (The Winslow Brothers, #2)(48)

She bit her bottom lip, looking away from him. When she raised her eyes, they were sad and it went against every natural instinct that Preston had to make her sad, but watching her walk away from him without putting up a fight was unthinkable.

“Pres, I was always honest with you about my career,” she said defensively. “You know how important it is—”

“Yeah. But I also know that yesterday you promised to love, honor, and cherish me for the rest of your life.”

She wiggled off his lap, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I do! I will! I’m not going to Timbuktu! Just LA. Just for a little while. It’s not forever. Please stop blowing it out of proportion.”

He stared at her like he didn’t know her, and part of him—a large part—felt like maybe he didn’t.

When she started speaking again her voice was calmer and gentler, but he could tell it was forced, too. “Listen, we’ll talk on the phone, and maybe you can, I don’t know, come and see me in a week or two? For a weekend?” She walked over to the closet and when she turned around there were several dresses hanging over her forearm. “And when it’s over, I’ll come back.”

I’ll come back.

Three words. Three words that told him there was no room for conversation anymore. Her mind was made up. She was leaving. No. She was already gone.

“When?” he asked softly, his heart aching. “When exactly will you come back?”

“When filming’s over.”

“How long will that be, Elise?”

“My guess is three months.”

His eyes widened and it felt like she’d sucker punched him in the throat. “Three months? We haven’t been apart for more than a night since you moved in. We got married yesterday. We’re… we’re starting our life. Here. In New York. Together.”

He would have winced at the sound of his voice—the tone a man in the 1950s would have used to boss around “the little woman”—but he was too upset with the entire situation to critique his behavior.

She answered him crisply, unsmiling. “We’ll just have to start it when I get back.”

He skewered her with his eyes. “And what happens if they offer you another role after this one? Then what?”

She looked away from him. “We’ll deal with that when it happens.”

Not if, he noted. When.

“Elise, we never discussed L.A. as a possibility. I’m not licensed to practice law in California. I have a job here. A career here.”

“I know that!” she yelled.

Elise placed the dresses in the duffel bag and stared down at her floor, clasping her fingers together and taking a deep breath. Preston reached forward, snagging the pinkie of her left hand, and pulling her over to him. She stood between his legs and he adjusted their fingers, lacing his fingers through hers.

“I can’t pass this up,” she murmured, her voice breaking as she stared down at their fingers.

He felt a vulnerable spot and pushed his advantage.“Of course you can. What about Our Town at the Barrymore? You were so excited for that try-out next week. You were going to be amazing in that.”

“I haven’t even auditioned yet.”

She started to draw her hand away but he tightened his grip, pulling her between his legs and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“So, audition for it, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Get the part and stay here with me. Don’t go.”

She lifted her head, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “What?”

“Stay here with me, sweetheart. Please don’t go.”

Her whole body stiffened and recoiled and he loosened his arms as she took a step back, searching his face like she couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“That’s what my mother said to me the day I boarded a bus to New York. ‘Stay here with me, Liebling. Don’t go.’ I can’t believe you just said that. I can’t believe you would…I can’t…” She blinked her eyes frantically, sucking in a huge gasp of air, and turning away from him. When she whipped back to face him, her cheeks were red. “You would stand in the way of my dreams? You would put yourself between me and everything I ever wanted? Everything I’ve worked for?”

“Elise—”

“What if the shoe was on the other foot? What if you hadn’t hurt your rotator cuff? What if you were willing and able to go to the Olympics and someone had stood in your way?”

He leaned back on the bed, his eyes narrowing. “Is the theoretical someone in this scenario you?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said, his voice low and tight. “It matters if we’re talking about you, because you’re not just anyone, you’re my wife.”

“Okay, fine. Me. What if I stood in your way and asked you not to go?”

He felt—felt—his heart breaking. “Do you seriously not know the answer to that question?”

She stared back at him, her jaw tight, her eyes welling with tears.

“Elise, I would do anything for you. I would give up anything for you. I would be anything for you. Would I have given up the Olympics for you? Hell, yes. No question. Sweetheart, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give up for you if you asked me to.”