HAYDEN’S VOICE IS LOUD AND demanding. “You are out of your fucking mind if you think you’re going to Barcelona with Vi. I mean it, Booker. This isn’t even up for discussion.”
“Who the bloody hell do you think you are coming into my house and barking orders around like you’re the boss? You’re right lucky I’m not skinning you alive, you fucking wanker,” Booker snaps aggressively.
“Wanker?! Real mature.” Hayden looks at me, his grey eyes going wide like he’s asking me to step in and help.
I just continue hiding my smile.
“Yes, Hayden, you’re a fucking wanker. An old fucking wanker, and you’re not going to Barcelona with my sister,” Booker barks again.
“Booker, you would tread very carefully if you knew what was good for you.” Hayden’s tone is low and menacing.
“You think I’m afraid of you? What a laugh. Oi, are you going to thump me with your calculator? You fucking nerdling.”
“Oh, go kick a fucking ball. I’m taking Vi to Barcelona!”
“Think I should break this up?” I murmur under my breath to Gareth all the while attempting to hide my giggles.
His eyes alight with amusement. “Hell no! This is the best farewell I’ve had so far! Let’s see who draws blood first!”
We’re seated at the end of the long wooden table in our dad’s kitchen, our chins propped on our hands as Hayden and Booker stand nose-to-nose at the opposite end. They are in the middle of an epic battle of wills for who gets to go with me to Barcelona. I silently cast my vote for Hayden because I feel badly about inviting Booker originally. And damn if I wouldn’t love a proper holiday with Hayden. It’s been three weeks since Theo and Leslie’s wedding, and I am more smitten with him now than I was before. There’s just something about a man uttering the words “I love you” while he swats your arse lovingly that makes everything inside of you get all warm and gooey.
“This is actually my house,” Dad finally interjects after he’s nearly licked the plate of Swedish pancakes I made special for Hayden’s visit today.
I hop up when I hear Bruce barking at the door. I let him in from his trot outside. He’s panting ferociously with huge strings of slobber hanging from his mouth.
“Good dog,” I say as he nosedives for his water bowl. I squat down beside him and whisper in his ear, “What do you think of him, Bruce? Do you approve of my bulldozing bruiser of a boyfriend?”
Hayden’s heated gaze glances over at me, clearly no longer listening to my brother who’s still chirping away. He watches me with that possessive sense of ownership that he gets every time he hears me call him my boyfriend. It would be quite funny, actually, if it wasn’t so bloody sexy.
Bruce suddenly laps at my face happily, soaking my entire cheek.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I cringe and give him a hearty pet. Then I stride over to the sink to rinse my face, feeling Hayden’s eyes still on me.
“Vi, are there any more?” Tanner asks, carrying his plate over to the counter and picking around the dishes that are scattered everywhere.
“They’re going with Gareth to Manchester. Sorry, Tan.”
He frowns. “Gareth gets everything.”
“Because he’s a bloody suck up,” Camden mumbles as he washes his hands in the sink next to me.
This makes me smile. Today was Hayden’s first proper Harris Sunday dinner. Gareth definitely helped clear the path for his re-entry into the Harris Brothers’ good graces. Whatever Hayden said to him at Leslie’s wedding must have won him over because I’ve never seen him react to a boyfriend this well. Although, after this Barcelona battle, I’m quite certain Hayden will be on Booker’s shit list for quite some time.
“Oi!” I finally interrupt after having listened to this dreary argument for nearly twenty minutes. “Enough. I’ve brought presents for everyone, and I’d like to hand them out now if you’d all shut your gobs.”
Hayden and Booker’s heads both swerve to me. Booker’s expression looks positively psychotic. Hayden’s face is flushed red with anger, but his eyes heat with a different kind of fire when they land on mine. God, he’s beautiful. And he loves me.
I bite my lip to conceal my happy smile and stand to grab the large bag I brought over with me. Everyone settles into their chairs, Booker still mumbling obscenities under his breath.
“So,” I start as Hayden takes the heavy bag from me and sets it on the table. I grin at him as he subtly pats my bottom behind the table. “This is something kind of special that took some organising for me to get it all perfect. As you all know, I went through Mum’s cookbooks and basically claimed that entire box as my own. But what you don’t know is that there weren’t only cookbooks in there.”
I pull out a wooden keepsake box from the bag. My fingers smooth over the glossy wood and I smile recalling the night I helped Hayden stain them. I sit down on my stool and eye all of my brothers meaningfully.
“There was a special book inside the box that wasn’t full of recipes. It was full of poems. Poems that Mum wrote. I couldn’t read them for the longest time because most of them were written in Swedish, and it took some time for me to get them all translated. That’s what I’ve done here.
“They vary in topics, but the majority of them are the feelings she had during motherhood. There are also several poems about you, Dad.” I look at my dad, whose eyes are rimmed as he stares at the box in my hands.
“I’m not sure I can read them,” he croaks and turns away, a faraway look in his eyes. Gareth eyes me seriously, speaking straight to my soul with unspoken words about the guilt our father must still carry with him.
Grabbing the box, I walk over to him and touch his shoulder. He shudders with emotion, and Tanner and Camden’s eyes go wide in confusion.
“You must read these, Dad. The way Mum spoke of you…” My voice cracks. “We should all be so lucky to find what you two had.”
Dad looks up at me, his dark blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as his chin betrays him with a mighty wobble. “I should have done better.”
I smile sadly. “You did what you could. Mum saw that, and she loved you fiercely. Even in the end. You’ll see.” I push the box toward him.
“Oh, Vi,” he croaks and pulls me down into a fearsome hug. “Thank you, my darling.”
“You’re welcome, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He releases me and I see Camden’s eyes red around the edges.
“Chin up, men. Let me pass all these out. I have specific boxes for each of you because Mum also saved some crafts that we made for her as kids. Booker, your craft is quite awful, really. You were only one and clearly untalented.”
Camden and Tanner howl with laughter. Dad places a reassuring hand on Booker’s shoulder all the while his belly is shaking with silent laughs. Booker frowns in annoyance. “That’s just cruel, Vi.”
I giggle and wink at him while peeking inside each box and handing them out appropriately. I carry Gareth’s over to him and notice that he’s been eerily silent this entire time.
“There’s a special one about friendship in there,” I say quietly to Gareth. “It’s called ‘Friendship Has No Age,’ and I’m pretty certain it’s entirely about you.”
Gareth’s jaw clenches and he nods woodenly. They all open their boxes and begin shuffling through the poems that I had printed on special paper.
“Dad, I put the Swedish originals in your box.”
“These boxes are beautiful,” Booker says, rubbing his fingers over the underside of the lid where Hayden burned an inscription on the interior:
Vilma Nyström Harris ~ Wife, Mother, Friend
An original soul always in our hearts.
“Hayden made them, actually. All of them. And he did the inscription.”
Booker’s eyes lift to mine and then flash over to Hayden. He frowns and croaks seriously, “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hayden replies and they exchange subtle nods. A peace offering, perhaps?
“You’re still not going to Barcelona,” Booker grumbles and everyone bursts into a mix of annoyed groans and laughs.
I smile at my dad and four brothers, who really aren’t all that dissimilar to Hayden in the end. Perhaps that’s how he was able to somewhat win them over. The whole lot of them are all brooding, protective, over-bearing, but completely devoted men, who care for you absolutely once you’ve breached their hardened hearts. I hope someday my brothers can all have their own love stories.
And Hayden has breached my heart for good. My soul sings as I stare at the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs along with the other important men in my life. Those crinkles are the sexiest road map to his happy place. A happy place that includes me.
It’s dark outside by the time Hayden and I leave my dad’s. We head straight to my flat where we’ve been spending most of our nights. We do hang out with Theo, Leslie, and Marisa some, but the majority of our time is spent here. I think Theo and Leslie have been appreciating their alone time, especially since Marisa seems to be growing out of her fussy stage.
“Your brothers aren’t as tough as they seem,” Hayden says as we flop onto the wicker sunbed in my rooftop garden. The Chinese lanterns glow down on us, casting a warm, cosy ambience in the dark London night. “They’re all bark, no bite. Booker is lucky that I was feeling generous today.”
I grin as he tucks into my back and spoons me in that delicious way that turns him into the cosiest Hayden blanket. “Booker gets Barca, you get South of France,” I say with a comfortable sigh.
“Mmm, you could have told me you have some time off before I got in a huge battle with your brother, you know,” he moans and nips my neck playfully. “But I forgive you because I get to see you in a bikini.”
Cupping his head to my neck, I reply while he nuzzles, “Actually, I was thinking we could try one of those nude beaches.”
His nibbling halts instantly. “Like fucking hell we will.”
I bite my lip to stop my giggle. “It’s all the rage there, and I do hate tan lines.”
“Look at me.” Hayden yanks my shoulder back so I’m lying on my back and he’s holding himself over me. All good humour completely evaporates from his face. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
My eyes twinkle with mirth. “It’s a bucket list thing I’ve always wanted to try.”
“You’re out of your mind, Vi, if you think I’m going to allow my girlfriend to traipse around a beach bloody naked for all of France to ogle. Christ, I’m actually getting fucking pissed off just thinking about it.” He runs a hand through his hair as my heart does little summersaults over his girlfriend title for me.
It never gets old.
I clasp his face in my hands. “Maybe we can work out an alternative.”
“What is that?” he groans, his grey eyes watching me in agony. “I swear you like to torture me.”
I lift my brows. “Rooftop sex is also a bucket list item for me.”
His eyes instantly heat with desire. The possessive side of him has to look around first, clearly noting that we’re the tallest building for miles and there’s no way anyone can see us.
“Or, we could always go back to the cinema.” He shoots me a salacious grin. “I know my Bunny loves the movies.”
His head drops down to my neck, and he places kisses down every square inch, all the way to the tops of my breasts. He bites down on my tank top strap and pulls it down my shoulder. His breath stutters with excitement when he sees I’ve ditched my bra for the night.
“Fuck…Kissing you will never get old.”
“You know what never gets old for me?” I ask and my breath catches as he cups the weight of my breast in his warm, rough hand.
“Hmm?” he asks as his lips continue their assault along my collarbone.
“Hearing you call me your girlfriend.”
“Mmm, you like that do you?” he asks, thumbing my hardened nipple. “I got one better for you.”
“What’s that?” I suck in a quick breath and let out a sudden moan as his lips wrap around my nipple and he bites down softly.
“Future wife.” His head pops up to watch my reaction.
My hooded eyes turn wide. My expression drops in shock. “I…I…” I stammer.
“I’m not asking yet, Bunny. Believe me. When I ask, you’ll know. But I want you to know that’s where I see this going with us. I told you I wasn’t going to waste any more moments with you, so that’s why I’m telling you now.” His face is deathly serious. His grey eyes warm pools of open sincerity.
“Okay then,” I croak in a lame reply.
The corner of his mouth tilts up proudly. “So eloquent with words.” His wicked laughter vibrates against my chest as he touches his lips to mine in a sweet, final gesture.
I wrap my legs around him and inspiration strikes. I blurt against his mouth, “Maybe you should move in here?” He pulls back and looks down at me with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “Bruce and I have discussed it already, and we both think it’s a good idea. I’ll have to warn you about Bruce Hugs, though. They can be rather intense. But it’d be nice to have you around to fix things, take him for a walkies, water the plants.”
“Water the plants?” he asks, pursing his lips to conceal a laugh.
“Yes. I think you’d do a proper job,” I state with a deadpan expression. “Vincent is such a flirt, you know.”
“Vincent is a flirt,” he grumbles. “I think I can water your plants. And I can take care of your dog. And I can take care of these precious assets,” he purrs, squeezing my bum. “It’s time for more.”
I touch the crinkles around his eyes affectionately all the while knowing that 11:11 has come and gone and he’s stayed right here with me…in the moment…in the present…talking about our future.
“That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
A Few Weeks Later
“These floor-to-ceiling windows won’t do, Bunny.” Hayden harrumphs as he drops a moving box down inside my en suite bathroom and ruffles his dirty blonde hair.
“What do you mean?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe to ogle my man in his worn jeans and a fitted white T-shirt and making my thighs clench like a sex addict.
My eyes shift to his hands as he adjusts the brown leather cuffs on his wrists. I suddenly forget about his physical beauty and see the inner beauty that drew me to him in the first place. Hayden wears the cuffs to hide his past from the world, but he’ll take them off when he’s with me. He’ll expose his scars, let them breathe, give them light because, when we’re together, there is no darkness anymore.
Hayden gestures to the huge, sweeping window beside my large claw-foot bathtub. “I don’t need all of bloody London constantly seeing you naked, Vi. Now that we’re living together, I think I deserve to have you all to myself.” His grey eyes pierce me with a possessive glower that doesn’t intimidate me.
It excites me.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you fill a bubble bath for me at one point in time?”
His face remains firm. “That was different.”
“Different how?” I ask with a laugh.
“I was wooing you.” He looks away, clearly embarrassing himself with his response.
I burst into a full-on belly laugh at his expression and shake my head. “Relax, Hayden. We’re in the tallest building around for miles.”
He gives me a pouty look. “I don’t care.”
I have mercy on him. “It has a reflective exterior.”
“What do you mean?” His voice is different now. So are his eyes.
I bite my lip and then nervously reply, “I mean London only sees London out there.” I gesture toward the matching windows in my bedroom behind me. “What we see in here is only for us.”
Hayden’s possessive glower turns into molten lava as he strides toward me.
I inhale sharply. “Don’t we have more boxes to bring up?” I nearly pant. God, I’m pathetic. I’m a pathetic, wanton floozy, but it’s My Hayden…and he loves me.
“Stuff the boxes. They can wait,” he murmurs, seizing my mouth with his and anchoring one arm tightly behind my back as he walks me across my bedroom until I’m pressed up against the smooth, cold glass.
The contrast of his warm lips working magic against mine is heady, and I cry out when his hand firmly squeezes my arse. Without hesitation, he spins me around to look out the window.
Oh, God, I really hope he…
Slap.
That.