Anna
I shouldn’t be so relieved to have Oliver. I shouldn’t be so relieved that he’s offered to marry me. I should have turned him down. I shouldn’t have told him I’d be his bride.
The offer was too enticing, though, and not because it means I’ll get what my father left me.
It was enticing because it means I’ll get Oliver.
I’ll get to be with him for an entire year.
I’ll get to be in his bed and in his arms. I’ll get to spend hours talking to him. I’ll get to fall asleep in his arms and wake up naked next to him. I’ll get to be his completely.
Even if is only for a year.
By the time the police leave my house, it’s well past midnight and I’m exhausted, but I’m terrified to go to sleep. The back door is completely destroyed. I’ll have to go get a new one tomorrow.
Oliver notices me eyeing the door warily and he wraps his arms around my waist.
“Come home with me,” he says.
“Tonight?”
“Every night, but especially tonight.”
“You don’t think we’re moving too quickly? We’ve only just met.”
“I think we’re moving at the appropriate pace for the situation.”
“You don’t think this is a mistake?”
“Do you?”
“No, but…”
“What is it, Anna?” He crooks his finger and lifts my chin so my eyes meet his. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried this isn’t fair to you,” I tell him. “I’m getting a husband and my inheritance and you don’t get anything out of it.”
“I get to spend a year with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says. “And that’s worth everything to me. I don’t know if you’ve figured this out about me, Anna, but I don’t get close to people. Ever. I never, ever get close to people. I don’t feel comfortable with them and I like my privacy. I’ve had relationships before where I was used, and now I have a hard time trusting women.”
I swallow, hard.
“But I don’t have a hard time trusting you,” he says. “Somehow, and I don’t know why, sweetie, but somehow, I feel completely comfortable with you.”
“Me too,” I admit. “I feel like we’ve known each other our entire lives. Why is that, Oliver? It’s so weird. I never feel like this with people. I never feel comfortable like this.”
“I don’t know. I know you’re thinking we’re mates, Anna, and I don’t believe in that, so I can’t promise this is going to be some fairytale romance, but I will protect you with my life. I will take care of you. I will make sure everything is okay.”
“I believe you.”
“Why don’t we pack a couple of bags for you? You can come home with me tonight and then tomorrow, we’ll get your door fixed. Do you own your house?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I rent.”
“When’s your lease up?”
“Next month.”
“Don’t renew it. You can come live with me. I’ll help you move all of your stuff.”
“Are you sure we aren’t rushing things?”
“Anna, when it comes to you, I can’t get you back in my bed fast enough. Come on,” he takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs. “Let’s get you packed, baby.”
*
Over the weekend, the guys move Joyce into Landon’s old apartment unit and they move me into Oliver’s. It’s quite the task, but with a lot of beer and a lot of pizza, we make it happen. Somehow, the house doesn’t seem too full or packed. I think it helps that there are three separate apartment units on three separate floors.
It also helps that everyone is actually really nice and truly cares about each other.
We have a great time getting Joyce settled in her new apartment and then we get me settled, as well. I still can’t believe how much crap I have. Apparently, becoming a pack rat is easy when you have an extra bedroom for “stuff.” We make several trips to the thrift store to drop off various items I no longer want or need, including extra furniture and lots of clothes I held onto because I thought I might wear them “someday.”
Oliver keeps telling me, Your future is now.
The craziest part is that I actually believe him.
I feel so much less stressed, so much less worried. I finally feel like everything in my life is going to be just fine, and when I walk into work on Monday morning, the only thing I feel is happiness. I pour my coffee, chat with Rita, and fly through my classes. Somehow, my students all perform wonderfully, and I definitely believe they all did their homework.
The day is looking up.
Everything is looking up.
When I get home, Oliver and I talk about our days over dumplings and rice, and then he makes love to me in his bed over and over and over. He fucks me until I can’t think straight, until the only thing I’m thinking about is how long it’ll be until my next orgasm. He makes love to me deeply, passionately, sweetly, and I can’t help but wonder how I ever managed to live without him.
I’m quickly becoming addicted to him and that’s not necessarily a good thing. We aren’t even married yet and already, I can’t imagine life without him. The truth is that I don’t want to get divorced from Oliver after a year. I don’t want to split up after we’ve satisfied the requirements of the trust. I don’t want to do any of that stuff.
All I want is to be with him.
It doesn’t make sense that I’m becoming so attached to him. I’ve never felt this way about a man before. Then again, I’ve never had someone show me such kindness before. Am I reading too much into the situation? Am I hoping for something that’s impossible?
Oliver and I decide to have a small wedding ceremony on the first floor of the mansion. There’s a large sitting room that’s perfect for a sweet, informal wedding. The only friends we really want there are the other shifters who work at Casa, Fee, and Lyon. I don’t have any family members to invite, but Oliver’s parents will be there.
There are three weeks until the wedding. Three weeks and then we’ll be married. Three weeks and then I’ll be Mrs. Oliver Lyon.
The entire weeks flies by in a blur of hugs and sex and work. When the weekend arrives, Joyce and I go to wine club together, as usual. We missed the last class because we were both busy moving, so it feels good to get back into our usual routine again.
After class, the two of us go to a nearby sports bar and order a couple of beers.
“The time for being classy is over,” Joyce holds up her beer and I hold up mine. We toast to the night and to friendship, and then we start drinking.
“How are you doing?” I finally ask her. I know what happened between her and Logan and I know she’s completely overwhelmed with the situation. Anyone would be. It’s not fair what happened. It’s especially not fair that it happened to someone like Joyce.
“Meh,” she sips her beer. “I’ve been better.”
“Has he tried to contact you?”
“I blocked his number,” she says. “I’m too pissed. I don’t want to deal with him right now.”
“Probably for the best. You don’t want to threaten him and then have the cops questioning you about it.” Joyce doesn’t lose her temper often, but when she loses it, she really loses it.
“Exactly. Besides, what do I have to say to him? ‘You’re a dick’ or ‘fuck off’ hardly seem strong enough for what he did.”
“He’s an asshole,” I agree.
“Most men are,” the bartendress says as she walks by.
Joyce and I hold up our beers in unison, silently agreeing.
“I know there’s someone out there for me,” Joyce says. “I know you and Ollie don’t believe in mates, but I do, and I think that when you find that perfect person, you just know. I think you just…you get a feeling deep in your bones, and you just know. I never felt that way with Logan. I mean, he was sexy and fun and friendly. We had a lot of fun together, but I never questioned if he was my mate. I think if you aren’t questioning it, then they’re not the one. You know?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, but I don’t really know.
“You and Ollie,” she says. “Now there’s a pair I wouldn’t have dreamed up.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re bold. You’re outgoing. You’re passionate. He’s quiet. He’s not shy, but he’s always kept to himself. He’s not very outgoing. Honestly, he’s not really much of a people person at all, but he’s different around you. He’s more confident. He’s braver, in a way. You’re good for each other.” She sips her beer and shakes her head. “Such a silly lion.”
“He doesn’t like that.”
“What?”
“Don’t call him a lion,” I say, suddenly feeling protective. “He’s a tiger. You shouldn’t call him a lion.”
“Is that right?” Joyce looks a little surprised, but I don’t say anything else, I just nod, and she shrugs.
“I like him a lot,” I admit.
“I should hope so. You’re marrying him.”
“He feels obligated to marry me,” I point out.
“Oliver? Feel obligated? If there’s one thing he’s never felt, honey, it’s obligation. He might have fed you that line so you wouldn’t feel bad, but if Oliver Lyon is asking to marry you, it’s because he fucking wants to.”
“Really?” I sip my beer. “But why would he want to do that? It doesn’t make any sense. We’re going to get divorced after a year and then he’ll be a divorcee. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to just leave me on my own and hope for the best with a judge?”
“You’re still meeting with a judge?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Oliver totally got a meeting next week. Then, if the judge doesn’t say yes to altering the terms of the trust, we’ll go through with the wedding.”
“I’ve never seen Oliver like this,” Joyce tells me. “And I’ve known him for years. If you ask me, honey, he’s your mate, and you’re his. You’re so damn good together. You both make each other happy, and if the sounds you make at night are any indication, I’d say you’re sexually compatible, too.”
Fuck.
Joyce lives downstairs now, which means there isn’t an extra floor between us and the next inhabitants of the house.
So she hears everything we do at night, everything we say. Oliver and I aren’t exactly quiet lovers.
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly blurt out, but Joyce just starts laughing.
“Don’t be. Like I said, you’re good together. You should believe in him as much as he believes in you, honey, because if I know Oliver, he’s not going to quietly accept a divorce after a year. He’s going to want to keep you, and can you really blame him? You’re basically totally perfect for him, sweetie. You’re his match. Like it or not, you’re fated to be together.”