Worth Fighting For (Fighting to Be Free 2)

“Spencer is coming back to relieve me,” I replied, passing him his tablet before taking up his spot in the car. I hated that the seat still retained the warmth from his ass.

He patted the window frame and stood. “All right. Have fun.”

As his taillights disappeared into the darkness of the night, I turned my attention to Ellie’s house, scooting down in the seat to get more comfortable, and picked up the energy drink I’d brought with me. The house was indeed quiet. No lights on, no signs of life. My mind wandered to Ellie and what she was doing inside. Was she sleeping soundly or tossing and turning, worrying about her mother? Was she talking in her sleep? Was she cuddled up next to her fiancé or was he not a snuggling type of guy? I sighed, wishing I were him, wishing she were mine and that I were huddled against the warmth of her body in her hot-pink bedroom rather than sitting in the cold, uncomfortable car. My life fucking sucked.

CHAPTER 17

ELLIE

TODAY WAS TOBY’S last day here with me in New York. He didn’t want to go, and I didn’t want him to, but he’d only managed to arrange a week’s worth of cover at the pub. It had been great having him here; he took my mind—well, all of our minds—off the horrible situation we were in. Having him here to support me relieved some of the pressure.

Of course, he’d managed to charm my nana to the point where she was baking his favorite foods every day, and he even managed to bring my sister out of her shell by teaching her some rhyming slang. Toby had a heart of gold, and I absolutely did not want to watch him jet off and leave me.

During the limited downtime we’d had since the funeral, we’d tried to show him some of the sights. Monday we’d gone to the Empire State Building, Times Square, Rockefeller Center, and Central Park. Yesterday we’d caught a Broadway show. Today was the big one, though, the one he was really looking forward to—Lady Liberty. When given the choice of all the things he could do while here, he put that at the absolute top of his list. Not because it was a historical landmark or anything like that; no, it was because the Ghostbusters had made the thing come to life with pink slime and walk through the streets to the tune of “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher.” I was engaged to a geek.

It was early by the time we arrived at Battery Park and stood in the security line waiting for the ferry to start operating for the day. Unfortunately, because we hadn’t booked weeks in advance, we couldn’t go into the crown, but Toby was still as giddy as a child waiting in line to meet a department store Santa.

“Queue selfie,” Toby said, whipping out his phone. “I’m gonna send this to my mum, she’ll be well jel.”

I smiled and leaned in next to him, sticking out my tongue at the last second and giggling when he poked me in the side with one finger. He draped his arm across my shoulder and looked out over the water. “This is great. I’m gutted that this is my last day, I don’t want to leave you.” He turned back to me, his mouth turning down in a frown as he pulled me closer to his body.

“I don’t want you to leave, either,” I mumbled, pressing my face into the side of his neck and breathing him in. His flight was at six p.m., and he had to be there a couple of hours before, so we only had a few hours left together. I was making them all count.

Once the ferry opened, the line moved pretty quickly and we were over at the island in no time. Toby got more and more excited as time passed; his little face lit up when we approached the statue and he shielded his eyes, leaning back to look all the way to the top. We took no end of selfies. After an age of exploring and just sitting and appreciating the vast beauty of the statue, Toby started humming the theme song from Ghostbusters, and the forty-or-so-year-old man next to him with the expensive camera hanging around his neck laughed and hummed along, too.

It was official: Toby could make friends anywhere, without even saying a word.

“How many times you seen the Statue of Liberty, then? Bet you’re bored of it, aren’t you?” Toby asked, leaning his head on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my tummy as he pressed against my back.

I smiled. “Lots and lots,” I replied, turning in his arms so we were face-to-face. “But I can honestly say I’ve never enjoyed it as much as today.” Seeing it through his eyes, how excited and impressed he was, it made me appreciate it on a whole new level.

When my stomach growled, ruining the sweet moment, he grinned. “How about we raid the gift shop and then go get some lunch? Can’t ’ave you getting hangry, can I?”

I nodded. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hangry.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen it. It was truly terrifying.”

Once loaded up with snow globes that he’d never be able to get home in one piece, key rings, bottle openers, and notebooks decorated with Lady Liberty, we hopped back on a ferry and over to the mainland. I led him to a great pizza restaurant I knew and came to often with Stacey.

As soon as we stepped into the restaurant, my mouth was watering at all the delicious smells wafting through the air. It was just before twelve and the place was heaving with people already. I took Toby’s hand, tugging him to the counter so we could order. His eyes widened as he looked at all the precooked pizzas in the glass case under the heat lamp.

“Bloody ’ell, they’re ruddy ’uge!”

I laughed and sidestepped when the person in front of me turned, carrying his food. “What do you want?” I asked Toby before turning my attention to the young pimple-faced server. “Hi, can I get a slice of pepperoni and a Diet Coke?” I turned to Toby, waiting for him to add his order.

“Same, thanks,” he muttered, watching the server put two ginormous slices of pizza into the oven to reheat, before turning to make our drinks. When the hot slices were laid onto paper plates and pushed toward us, the pure want in Toby’s eyes made me smile.

“I’ll get these, I got loads of dollars left to use,” Toby said, waving me off when I dug in my purse to get some money out. I smiled at Toby and picked up the two plates of food, being careful that the flimsy paper plates didn’t bend as I walked to an empty booth at the back of the restaurant.

I slid in, the plastic-covered cushion squeaking under my behind. Moments later Toby came over with the two drinks, pushing one to me as he sat down on the opposite side. “You been in ’ere before?” he asked, tugging his plate toward him.

I nodded, picking up my drink and taking a pull on the straw. “Yeah, Stacey and I used to come in here when we were shopping and stuff.”

Toby nodded absentmindedly, his hand reaching out to the napkin dispenser and moving it, looking behind it, a frown on his face. “Where’s the cutlery?”

I grinned and shook my head. “You’re in New York, you have to eat like one of us. Pick it up, you pansy.”

His frown deepened. Toby’s mama raised him right, and I’d never seen him eat pizza without a knife and fork. “Really?” He picked up his pizza with one hand and it immediately flopped over, drooping toward the plate. He frowned, using his other hand to straighten it so he could take a bite from the end.

“You British people suck at pizza,” I joked, winking at him. “Fold it.” I picked up my slice, folding the two sides together and taking a rather large bite, the greasy cheese hitting my tongue and making me groan in appreciation.

He grunted. “American weirdos.?

?? He did as I did, folding his slice and taking a massive bite, his eyes closing as he savored the flavor. I smiled, chewing slowly, glancing around at the busyness of the place. “It’s official, New York ’as ruined me for English pizzas. From now on all pizzas will be compared to this,” Toby announced, instantly taking another huge bite. “It’s so good,” he muttered, his mouth still full as his shoulders sagged in appreciation.

“Much better than that gross pie and mash with the green stuff you Londoners call good food,” I agreed. I’d never seen the attraction to the pie and mash shop that Toby raved about—the mash was stodgy and had no butter, the pie was all flat and had a weird pastry, and to top it off, they covered the whole thing in some sort of strange parsley sauce that they called liquor. If that didn’t turn your stomach, most people then added vinegar to their food, too. Disgusting.

“Oi, don’t knock the pie ’n’ mash shops,” Toby replied, raising one eyebrow in playful reprimand.

I grinned and chewed in silence, and then the conversation turned to the inevitable—him going home. We’d both been ignoring it all morning.

“Ellie, I’m really sorry I can’t stay longer. I feel like a right muppet going ’ome and leaving you on your own,” he said, taking a large bite of his pizza.

“I’m not alone, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He nodded, setting down the crust of his pizza and sitting back to rub his stomach in appreciation. “So ’ow long do you reckon you’ll need to be ’ere? Should I start planning another flight over and arranging cover for in a couple of weeks’ time, or do you think you’ll be ’ome by then?” he asked, watching me carefully.

I wasn’t sure we were ready to talk about this, or that we were ready to deal with it once we said the words.

“I’m not sure. Toby, I...” I swallowed and dropped my eyes to