“Good,” I say. “We’re going to sleep. And when we wake up, we’re going to shower, and I’m coming back to your place because I’m not nearly done fucking you, and you have condoms there.”
“Not to mention proper things to tie you up with.”
I blush. “That too.”
Curling up, I tuck myself into Malik’s chest and help him get the blankets over us. I don’t care. I’ll wash the sheets later. I’m not moving from this spot and him.
“When you come to my place,” he asks softly, “will you stay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
He clears his throat and opens his eyes. “I mean permanently.”
I go still. “You’re asking me to move in with you?”
Malik brushes my hair off my cheek. “I told you. When the men in my family know, we know. I want you in my life, Erin. And in my bed. And I don’t want you to live out of a suitcase.”
Unexpected tears prick my eyes. Everything is so overwhelming, but there’s nothing that I want more than that. I can’t imagine saying no to that request. The idea of being with him all the time and diving deeper into this love? Hell fucking yes.
“Yeah,” I say, biting my lip to hide my grin. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”
He grins like what I just said was the sun coming out from behind the clouds instead of the sun that’s actually rising outside the window behind me.
Pulling me close, he kisses me one last time before we slowly breathe together and fade down into sleep.
Erin
Three days later it’s like I’m living an entirely different life.
After we’d slept for a while that day in my apartment, we got up and showered. I got my suitcase full of clothes that I hadn’t moved since the phone call, and we left for his apartment-moving the rest of my stuff would take more time and planning.
In the meantime, I was just glad to get back to his place and the way we’d been integrating our lives together. The office that I’d been writing in would be my office, and I was going to decorate it. Paint it and switch it over from the sparse whiteness of the walls.
My apartment was small, and I’d always wanted an office, so this was fantastic. Definitely not the reason that I was moving in, but I wasn’t going to pretend that I didn’t love that part of it.
That whole day was a whirlwind. Malik’s editor moved quickly along with his lawyer and canceled his book contract so that Michael would get no extra commission from it. There wasn’t anything to be done about the money that he’d already gotten. And as soon as we had confirmation that the deal had been canceled, I got to listen in as Malik called Michael and informed him that he was fired.
After that, I got to hear the shock and surprise when I chimed in on speaker and told him that I was firing him too. Malik’s lawyer sent him the appropriate paperwork for both of us while we were on the phone with him. It was fucking glorious.
Between bouts of sex so delicious that I couldn’t believe that I was actually living real life, we looked for new agents. It didn’t take long. As soon as word got out in the publishing world that Malik Ellis was looking for new representation, there was blood in the water. I swear that Malik’s phone didn’t stop pinging with emails. After a while he had to turn it off just to get some peace.
But true to his word, we decided together. He only considered places that were willing to look at me too, and before long I was sending off my book to different agents so they could read it and I’d never been so nervous, given what Michael had always said about it. Obviously, he was lying, but that critique was still stuck in my head.
I shouldn’t have worried. They read the book overnight, and there wasn’t a single agency that said they wouldn’t take me immediately. The shock was so real and so huge that I couldn’t process it. Malik carried me upstairs and fucked me in the shower to celebrate before we sat down together and figured out exactly who we wanted to go with.
Now, we’re sitting in the office of Rose Glass, an agent whose client list rivaled Michael’s, and after we told her in confidence what happened, assured us that nothing of the sort would ever happen at her agency. And if it did, that we should tell her directly.
“I have to say, Mr. Ellis,” she says, “this is probably the easiest contract I’ve ever worked on, given that it’s already negotiated. Your editor was very eager.”
“So am I,” Malik says. “Now that the book is done, the original deadline is still fine, and everything should be on schedule.”
She laughs. “Can’t argue with that.” Looking over at me, she smiles. “I’m sure that in the future we may have to work some on your books. Malik tells me that you’re still relatively new. But the book you sent us is fantastic, and I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t go on submission immediately. I’ll have a list of potential editors for you by the end of next week.”
“That’s amazing,” I say. “Thank you.”
Malik reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Make sure my editor is on that list as well, please.”
“Of course.”
We sign the agency contracts, and I feel settled. This is so much better and easier than it ever was with Michael. I can already tell that I won’t have to work to ‘prove’ myself with this woman. I’ve known her for less than a day and she’s already a better partner.
“Thank you, Ms. Glass,” I say. “Truly.”
She laughs. “With the work you’ve already shown me? I should be thanking you. I’m not sure I could manage what you have already at your age, Erin.”
I flush with pride.
She adds, “And it’s an honor to have Malik Ellis on my client list. I imagine that I’ll have some other agents gunning for me now.”
“If there are, send them to me,” Malik says with a laugh. “We’ll make sure they’re not out to get you. Especially Michael Collins.”
Michael had not gone down quietly. He’d tried to smear Malik’s reputation by calling him a pedophile, selling photos of me and him together for gossip rags. But in the end no one bit. Maybe because Malik and I didn’t give a shit, we didn’t react when paparazzi asked us embarrassing questions or snapped more photos.
We are in love. Let rumors be rumors. Plus, with his provable pattern of drinking, people began to think of Michael as a chaotic drunk. His own reputation tanked.
Malik stands. “If there’s nothing else, we have another appointment.”
“No, that takes care of it,” Rose says. She stands and shakes both of our hands. “I’ll be in touch about re-signing the contracts once your editor sends them over, and I’ll follow up with you, Erin, about the sub-list. If you have anyone you’d particularly like me to send the book to besides Malik’s editor, let me know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Once we’re on the sidewalk outside, I take a deep breath. “Wow, that was nice.”
“Right?” Malik laughs. “I should have switched years ago. I guess I was just comfortable. And I wasn’t looking for that kind of behavior.”
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss him. “What did you mean by another appointment? Did you just say that so we didn’t have to stay there and make small talk?”
“Actually, no.” He raises a hand in the air and hails a cab. “I have somewhere that I’d like to take you.”
“Where?”
He holds the door to the cab open for me. “It’s a surprise.”
That’s fine with me. I never thought I’d be this girl, the impulsive girl who’s so in love that she’ll do anything and go anywhere and be silly and rave about how in love she is. But now that I am that girl, I love being her.
Malik slips his arm around me in the back of the cab, and even that’s enough to wish that we were back at the apartment so he could carry me upstairs and order me around the way that only he can do. But that will come later.
I hope the craving that I have for him never wears off. Because right now? I absolutely cannot get enough.
The cab takes us over the 59th Street Bridge into Queens. “Sure you can’t tell me where we’re going?”
He squeezes my hand. “We’re almost there.”
The cab makes its way through the streets of Long Island City, and out into the more suburban area. Before long, we pull up at a beautiful building. There are a few stories, but it’s clearly nice and well cared for. On the side of the building is a small sign. Arrowhead Long-Term Care Facility.
Why we’re here drops into my mind. “We’re here to see your dad?”
“I want you to meet him,” Malik says quietly.
We get out of the cab and Malik pays the driver before he takes my hand again. In the frenzy of everything that’s happened over the last few days, we haven’t talked about his father the way he told me that he wanted to.
“My dad was a writer, too. Not published, but it was his passion. He loved it so much, I could always find him writing a new story. And he was good.”
I wait for him to continue, because clearly that’s not the end of the story.
“A few years ago, he started to struggle. But it wasn’t until last year that we found out that he has dementia.”
I squeeze his hand, and we start walking toward the door.