Page 101 of The Voicemail

Alex’s eyes move over my face, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I’m not her anymore. I can’t be. I know too much now. I know what kind of men smile in public and have women dragged into cars in private. I know what a signature can hide. I know safety isn’t the same thing as not knowing you’re in danger.”

“I’m sorry you had to learn that lesson from me.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t make Bellamy a coward,” I tell him. “You didn’t make Bianchi cruel. You didn’t make Tomaso sick or Nico betray you or Claire get taken or Maya get hurt.”

He swallows, and I see the effort it takes to hold himself back. He’s being so damn careful. He really does listen to me.

“I guess being here is just making me realize that I don’t want to be without you,” I say.

The words come out smaller than I mean them to.

Alex’s face changes. “Elena.”

“I’m not done.”

He closes his mouth.

“I don’t know what we are yet. I don’t know how this works. I don’t know how to have a baby with a man whose life is constantly in danger.”

“I’ll never let it touch you.”

“I believe you’ll try,” I say. “I believe you’ll put men at every door and cameras on every street and probably buy three hospitals if I sneeze wrong. But I need you to protect me without making me disappear. And I need you to understand that sometimes protecting me means standing over there by the door while I decide whether to fall apart.”

His eyes flick to the space between us. “I can do that.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll hate it.”

“Every second.”

I take the last step into his reach, then stop before touching him.

He looks down at my hands. “Protection isn’t a price you pay by staying with me. It’s not something I’d take away because you choose differently. Whatever you decide, I’ll make sure you have guards you approve, doctors you choose, and enough distance from me if that’s what you need.”

I look at this man who has been both the safest and the most dangerous thing in my life for nearly two months. Then I look past him, into the dark gallery where I used to know exactly who I was.

I can’t have that girl back, but I get to choose who I’ll be from now on.

“I don’t want distance from you,” I say again.

I reach for him. He lets me. His hands come to my waist, careful and light, nowhere near the bruises. He holds me like he’s waiting for instructions.

“I want you,” I say. “Very much. I want the scary parts and the annoying parts.”

His hands tighten a fraction.

“I want you,” I continue. “For better or for worse.”

Alex lifts one hand to my face. He stops before touching the bruise.

“May I?” he asks.

My throat tightens. “Yes.”