CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Britta doesn’t answer me that night. Or the next morning. I already know she’s going to leave me hanging more than the four days she made Makaio wait. And I’m okay with that for one reason.
She hasn’t said no.
I’m calling that a win for now.
The day is a rush of property showings with clients, paperwork, and phone calls. Keeley taught yoga at the senior center this morning, then whisked Britta and Jamie away for wedding planning and girl time. I want details. I want to know what dress to buy her, what kind of flowers she wants, what flavor of cake—anything that will make our wedding seem more real.
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” my brother asks, approaching the door of my office. “You’ve always been ballsy, but planning Britta a surprise wedding…”
I look up from the late-afternoon sun sliding over the glimmering blue water in the distance. “I think so, but…no. I’m not entirely sure. You got better ideas?”
“If bad karaoke won’t solve it, I’m afraid not,” Maxon admits.
“The way Makaio proposed was so thoughtless it’s almost an insult.” I wish I’d done better, that I hadn’t whipped out the ring in the heat of the moment to prove something. On the other hand, she knows now how serious I am—and always have been. “After what’s happened, she needs to feel valued and loved, like I would crawl across glass, walk through fire, go to the ends of the earth to have her.”
“Of course. And she deserves that. It just seems like there’s a lot of potential to fuck this up.”
“Yep. But is picking the wrong color bridesmaid dress really my biggest problem?”
“It’s not,” he concedes. “The fact you’re forcing her hand is.”
“She has to pick one of us.”
“But you’re not only making her choose a groom, you’re wedging her into a position where she has two weddings on the same day and she’ll have to pick the one in which she’d like to be the bride. That’s messed up, dude.”
I shrug. Maybe. Probably. “But fitting.”
“What about a marriage license? You have to apply for one in person. Together.”
“I’m already working on that. I can start the process online, which I’ve done. I had a client last year whose daughter is a marriage license agent on the island. I’m seeing if I can, you know, work the system.”
“Of course you are.” Maxon shakes his head, wearing a hint of a smile.
“What will you do if she ultimately says no to you?”
“Not an option.”
Maxon shakes his head like I’m a dumb ass. “You need to start thinking about it. Not everything is always going to go your way.”
“I’ve got a hundred ways to make her realize I’m the right man for her. I haven’t even unleashed any of those yet.”
“Uh-huh. I know you. Ninety-nine of those ways involve sex. You can’t do that to her, bro.”
Why not? “How do I reach her if I can’t remind her firsthand about our chemistry?”
“I don’t know. But remember the last time you kissed her? You freaked her out so much that she slapped those papers to relinquish your parental rights in your face. Even if you managed to seduce her, she’s engaged to someone else. She wouldn’t be able to handle the cheating.”
Maybe he’s right. I was hoping that, at some point—soon—Britta would find me irresistible. Once I got inside her and started giving her orgasms, Makaio wouldn’t stand a chance. I wasn’t going to push or rush her. I didn’t think I had to. She wants me, too. I believe that. I feel it.
But Maxon is right. Britta is a stickler for honesty and fairness. I’m not sure she could live with herself. She might even resent me for leading her astray.
“Fuck.”
“Probably not. You need to rethink your strategy because you can’t use the most effective tool at your disposal.” He gestures vaguely below my waist. “Your, um…tool.”
It sucks, but Britta has to want to end her relationship with Makaio before she can be mine. That makes my “tool” useless right now. Damn it.
“Thanks for the insight. I’ll figure it out.” I’ve got to. “What about you two?”
“Me and Keeley? Thankfully, I don’t have any competition for her affection, so my tool is getting lots of action.” He winks.
“Eww.” Lucky bastard that he gets to worship the woman he loves. “I mean did you two set a date?”
“Oh. Not yet. But I can’t let you beat me to the altar.”
We’ve always been competitive. Dad ingrained that into us. Maxon wasn’t my brother; he was my competition, and I should want to squash him in all endeavors. But of course, since he’s three years older than me, I’m not surprised he feels as if he has to do everything, including getting married, first.
“Yeah, I guess you better hurry up and tie the knot,” I drawl. “You’re almost eligible to apply for your AARP card.”
“Oh, fuck you.” He punches my shoulder. “I just don’t want to wait. I know Keeley is the woman I want to spend my life with. I’m trying to convince her that we should do it on the beach in front of our new house before she gets too busy being an innkeeper to sink her teeth into a wedding.”
“Makes sense. Britta really will help her.”
“Speaking of which, I hope they had a good time shopping today. And that they’re making friends.”
We both know how uncomfortable our lives will be if they don’t. Britta and Tiffanii mixed like champagne and turpentine.
“I hope Keeley vouches for my new and improved character.”
Maxon is both rolling his eyes and laughing when Keeley breezes into the office with smiles for me and kisses for my brother.
“How was it?” I rush to ask before she’s even had time to sit down.
“Actually, it went really well. Now that she doesn’t think you’re nailing me, she’s very sweet.” Then Keeley sends me a disapproving stare. “And very torn. She seemed all right when I talked to her yesterday morning. Today? Whatever you did to her, she’s a mess.”
“It’s complicated.” The engagement ring I bought is wearing a hole in the sock drawer in our bedroom. I’m waiting for the day I can slip it on Britta’s finger, but I don’t say anything now. Keeley will tell me to slow down and be gentle. I can’t. “We’ll have to work it out over the next forty-eight days. So what did you two do?”
“I know a subject change when I hear one.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a handwritten page, then begins pointing at each line as she hands it over. “This is the name of a bridal boutique we went to. Since the wedding is coming up so quickly, I encouraged her to try on some sample dresses—just for fun, you know.”
Because Makaio’s mother will have picked out traditional Hawaiian garb—a white muumuu—for Britta to wear. It’s completely not her style. She likes clothes with structure and shape, more formfitting, that show the lean lines of her body. She’s also not the sort who will want a crown of flowers in her hair or a lei around her neck. She won’t want someone blowing a conch shell, either. It’s no disrespect to Makaio’s culture. It’s just that he’s not doing anything to accommodate her wishes or beliefs.
“And?”
Keeley’s smile is full of excitement. “She found a sample dress in her size that looks ah-mazing. Which is great because she can buy it off the rack since you don’t have the six months it takes to order from the designer. It needs a little repair on the beadwork, but the shop has a tailor on-site. Other than that, the dress fits perfectly. Call them quickly. I had them hold it for you. I’ll pick it up Monday.”
I lean in to kiss her cheek. “You’re fantastic. Anything else?”
“The bridal shop recommended a photographer, a caterer, and a florist. I picked up business cards, so on my way over here, I made a few calls. I set up appointments with all these people to talk to you on the phone next week. During my lunch with Britta, I spread out all the bridal magazines available at the drugstore. I bought them last night so she could point out to me things she liked. So now I know what sort of arrangements, food, and cakes she’s interested in. It was a really productive day.”
I’m beyond pleased. “I can’t thank you enough. This is going to work.”
She nods my way. “It just might.”
“Did you plan anything for our wedding, sunshine? You got the ball rolling for my bonehead brother, but you have an eager groom here…” Maxon all but growls.
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“I have to beat this asshole to the altar.” Maxon points my way.
“How does April eighth sound? That’s the week before his wedding…”
My brother pauses. “I’d rather do it in March. The fourth sounds perfect.”
“That’s next Saturday, Maxon,” Keeley objects. “I’m already doing this last minute.”
“Then why is it still taking weeks?”
We all laugh and discuss details a bit more. Since I brought the magazines Britta discarded, I quiz Keeley on things my angel seemed drawn to. The visuals give me a point of reference, and at the end, I’m sure I’m closer to making Britta my wife.
When the sun starts sliding toward the horizon and shadows begin to fill the office, I glance at my watch and frown. “Where are Britta and Jamie?”
Keeley showed up nearly an hour ago, and I didn’t think they would be far behind. She mentioned a run to the drugstore earlier but…
“Oh, Jamie didn’t go with us today. One of his daycare teachers agreed to watch him since a bridal shop isn’t really a place to take a toddler.”
I want to object that I could have spent today with him, that I would have been thrilled for the time with my boy…but I had to work. I grind my teeth at the missed opportunity. But Jamie is all boy, and the image of sticky hands and slobber on satin tells me Keeley is right. “Good call.”
“Britta said she would meet you at the Stowe mansion later.”
Not at home.
I know the building isn’t actually our home. It never will be. But my home is wherever Britta is. Wherever Jamie is.
The conversation brings full circle the fact that she hasn’t chosen me. It’s possible she never will.
But that’s not Keeley’s fault, so I suck it up and smile. “Thanks.”
The lovebirds leave the office hand in hand, still debating about a suitable wedding date. Maxon concedes that planning something as important as a ceremony commencing the rest of their life together might require more than six days. So he’s willing to wait a whole additional week.
I laugh and head home, mentally prowling through the refrigerator to decide what we might have for dinner.
When I pull into the enormous garage and head inside the house, Britta is already there making something with salmon. I smell jasmine rice steaming.
I set my keys down as I watch her bustle around the kitchen and Jamie curled up on the sofa with her iPad and a cartoon, his thumb in his mouth. “Hi, angel.”
She moved freely until I made my presence known. Now she seems guarded, sending me sidelong glances as she begins to toss a salad. “Hi. Good day? Did the couple from Seattle decide to buy a condo?”
“They said they’ll call me Monday, but my gut says yes.” I want to go to her, wrap my arms around her, kiss the nape she exposed when she lifted her golden tresses into a messy bun.
Maxon’s warning that Britta won’t be able to handle cheating echoes through my head.
I really am screwed.
“Good. Keeley and I had a great day. All my friends from college are on the mainland, and other than Emily, the woman you met at the park, my neighborhood wasn’t exactly filled with single women I had a lot in common with. Girl time was nice. Really nice.”
She actually smiles. I think that’s the first time I’ve seen her happy in…well, since I barged into her life again. Sure, she’s chatting to fill the space. So the silence otherwise isn’t awkward? Or so I don’t ask her whether she has an answer to my proposal?
“Good.”
“Poor Keeley seems so lost about weddings. She really wanted my opinion on everything, like she’d barely given her ceremony a thought.” She shrugs. “If I’m not going to get to plan my own, it’s nice to…”
Britta falls silent as if she realizes what she’s all but admitting.
“So you’re marrying Makaio? You’re choosing logic over love?” I try to keep my voice even and not reveal my absolute fury at the thought.
She tenses again, moving around the kitchen watchfully, as if she’s steering clear of a wild animal. “I haven’t decided anything.”
I round the bar and invade her personal space. I don’t touch her exactly. I can’t or I’m worried I’ll lose my self-control and be all over her. I pin her against the counter, anchoring my hands on either side of her, and manage to stop myself from dragging her closer. “What can I do to help you choose me?”
“Back off.”
“Besides that.”
“Nothing. I have to think this through. Last night was…a lot.”
I can’t dispute that. “Let’s figure this out together.”
That sounds calm and responsible. Mature. Not too demanding.
She’s already shaking her head. “I need time to be alone with my thoughts.”
That fucking grates on my patience.
“Give me one evening. Just one to imagine with me what our lives would be like if we’d been married for the last three years and if our lives were normal—”
“How do I do that? If we’d been married that long, you wouldn’t have to force me to live with you. Jamie calling you Daddy would make me smile, not worry. We wouldn’t be living here.” She gestures around to the expansive mansion. “And I wouldn’t be trying to decide whether I’m marrying another man in less than two months.”
You’re not, I want to growl at her, but I manage to bite back the words. “Britta… Angel. Give me a chance. I can’t prove anything to you about us if you don’t let me.”
“Give me some space and we’ll talk when I’m ready. I promise.” She shoulders her way past me to take the fish from the oven.
As she sets the table, I clench my teeth. The old me would never have accepted that answer. She belongs with me. She needs to be with me.
But she doesn’t believe in me yet.
The new me knows she’s going to have to voluntarily choose me if she’s ever going to stand beside me in a white dress and say I do.
We sit down to dinner in silence broken only by Jamie’s antics. He’s not a fan of salad tonight, and we both have to stop him from throwing lettuce. He decides to push salmon between a gap in his baby teeth. When he reforms his mound of rice into a snowball and threatens to throw it, Britta takes it away with a wag of her finger. Only the banana I peeled for him at the last minute seems to be a hit.
“He do this often?” I haven’t noticed this behavior before.
She shakes her head. “Leslie, the woman who watched him today, is one of his favorite nursery school teachers, but she’s in her sixties. I don’t think they were running around the park all day. Sometimes when Jamie has energy to burn, he does this at the table.”
It makes sense, and I have childhood memories of being forced to sit through a meal when I had something way more interesting, usually sports, on my mind.
I stand and untie Jamie’s bib, then lift him into my arms. “Why don’t you finish? We’ll find some ball to chase for a while. If you’ll put our food in the oven, I’ll come back in a bit when we’re ready to eat it.”
She hesitates. “If you make him sit here long enough, he’ll get it down.”
“He’s a boy. He needs to run. He needs fresh air. This is my department. We’ll be back.”
“Daddy,” Jamie shrieks. “Let’s play!”
As I lead him outside, I feel Britta’s gaze on me, watching the two of us together. Is she assessing? Probably. I want to bristle a bit, but that’s what this period is for, to determine how I would be as a father and husband. This is me.
I hope what I’m doing is enough.
After a half hour of running and giggling on the lawn, Jamie is panting. One thing I know about my son now? He’s clever. He’s determined. He doesn’t mind being a little underhanded to get his way. He’s definitely my kid.
But he’s also kind and likes to laugh, and when I pretended to have a boo-boo, he didn’t hesitate to come kiss it. He’s caring, like his mother.
We enter the house again to find a spotless and empty kitchen. Britta slid our plates into a warming drawer, and I get them out, putting Jamie’s food on a plastic child’s plate so he doesn’t burn himself.
“If you eat well, I might find you some ice cream, partner.”
He claps his hands and digs into his food with gusto. Good, old-fashioned bribery works well. I can’t help but laugh.
Despite the turmoil right now, the uncertainty of not knowing whether Britta will ever be mine, I can’t deny how content I feel spending time with Jamie. Yes, he’s fun and incredible. But every time I look at him, I’m amazed that I see my face and Britta’s eyes. He’s a perfect blend of us.
After a little contraband in vanilla/chocolate swirl, I give him a quick bath, then hoist him into my arms so he can get a kiss from his mother.
I find her in the media room curled up in a chair near the CD player, wearing noise-canceling headphones over her ears.
And tears streaming down her face.
I rush over to her. “Angel, what’s wrong?”
She brushes the wetness from her cheeks and gives Jamie a falsely cheerful smile. “You all ready for bed, handsome man?”
“I want stories,” our son insists.
Her grin turns genuine. “Of course you do.”
When she stands and reaches out for Jamie, I hesitate. “You sure? I can do this.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
I don’t think Britta means that, but she’s stubborn and this isn’t worth the fight. I hand him over. She hugs the little boy to her chest, eyes closed, her face a wealth of emotion as she holds him tight.
I can’t stand seeing her upset. I lean in and settle my lips against her ear. “How can I make you happy, angel?”
She shakes her head and clutches Jamie. “I’ll be back.”
I don’t like that answer, but I doubt she wants to risk upsetting our son just before bed.
“Night, little man.” I kiss the top of his head. “Soccer tomorrow?”
“Yeah!” He cheers and grins. “Night, Daddy.”
That still chokes me up. “Night, son.”
As Britta takes Jamie from the room, I give her my silent support with a caress down her back. I’m here for her. I may not have been good at that the first time we were together, but nothing means more to me now.
Once she rounds the corner and disappears, I look around for what might have upset her. Britta is usually the quiet, suffer-in-silence type. So when anything makes her cry, I know she means it. I hate how often I’ve reduced her to tears in the last few weeks. But I’m even more baffled by what made her sad just now.
The only thing I see are the headphones on the table in front of me. The second I put them on, I realize she’s been listening to the CD Keeley gave me.
I hear the ending notes of a song that tugs at me. I’ve heard this, I think.
I hit the BACK to start the last song she listened to over again. Instantly, I recognize it. Green Day’s “Good Riddance.” Most people think it’s titled “Time of Your Life” or some similar crap, but that’s just the sentiment of the song.
As I listen to the lyrics, so many things ring true immediately. It’s about turning points and forks in the road, making the best of tests in front of you and learning over time. Yes. To all of that, yes. And if the last three years has taught me anything, it’s echoed in the next line. What’s happening is unpredictable, but being with Britta and Jamie? Despite the discord and the uncertain future, I am having the time of my life being with them both. So I’ll preserve the still frames in my mind and tattoo the memories in good time. Whatever happens, this was worth all the while. Even if Britta chooses Makaio in the end, I will always have this period to look back on and remember.
Will it be enough if I wind up alone?
I listen to the song three times and imprint each word to memory. Keeley has always used music to process how she’s feeling. I’ve never really understood why. It seemed like something a high-school girl does. But I’m seeing that at times—like now—songs help me understand what’s in my head and heart when I can’t exactly put everything into words. Or when I’ve buried my emotions so deep the right song will dredge whatever I’m feeling up.
I don’t love the experience…but ultimately it’s better than suffering without really understanding why.
When I see Britta come back into the room, she still looks red-eyed. I lift the headphones from my ears and pause the music.
“Now you know what had me stirred up.” She gestures to the headphones.
“Yeah. Did you listen to more of the CD?”
“I started at the beginning.” She pauses. “Keeley made this for you? And these songs represent how you feel?”
“Yes.”
In the past, I would have danced around the truth. Telling Britta too much about what was going on with me would be too revealing. Now I’m not afraid to express the tangle of thoughts and pangs, aches and desperation. I want her to know she has power over me. She always has.
“She must know you well.” Britta sounds torn about that.
“She sees through me a lot. I’d like to be annoyed or weirded out by that. I was when we first met. But now, I admit it’s kind of nice.”
“Then I’m glad you two are friends. Keeley seems really lovely.”
I take Britta’s hands. “And that’s all we are. That’s all we ever have been. I wasn’t sure how to wrap my head around it when she first got together with my brother, but now I’m happy I’ll be calling her my sister.”
Tears well in Britta’s eyes. “Maybe we should talk about this.”
“Keeley?” When she shakes her head, I lift the CD case. “The music?”
“No.” Wisps of her golden hair come tumbling from her haphazard updo. “Us.”
Oh, thank god.
Still rubbing her hands between mine, I nod and sit on the sofa. “Let’s do that, angel. I’m here for no other reason than to convince you that I intend to make you and Jamie happy forever.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to process that.”
“I can’t not tell you the truth.”
Britta mulls that for a moment, then nods. “I’m just at a loss. I never expected to have you in my life again, much less as something more than Jamie’s father. I have no idea what to do.”
“I know I’m not making anything easy on you. I’m sorry. If you break things off with Makaio, I’ll do my best to downshift so we can grow our relationship more slowly—”
“You can’t expect me to end my engagement before I’ve even figured out how I feel.” Her expression holds a hint of apology. She knows I want that—and more—from her and she’s sorry she can’t give it to me now.
“Then tell me how you and I can proceed, beyond what we’re doing?”
“Can you give me a little breathing room?”
“No.” I say the word softly. I can’t candy-coat the truth or change the hand I’ve been dealt. “When he moved up the timetable of your wedding, he was putting me on notice. Did you realize that?”
She shakes her head. “He said he just didn’t see the point of waiting and—”
“He also wasn’t about to give me an opportunity to woo you away. He was letting me know that he’s aware of my intentions. That date was a giant fuck you to me. I only have this small span of time to work with. So I have to use every moment of every day that I have to make you see how good being married to me would be. I’ll bet he wasn’t thrilled when you said you would be moving in with me temporarily.”
She hesitates. “No.”
“How did you get him to agree?”
“I told Makaio there was no other way to convince you to sign away your rights so he could adopt Jamie. He didn’t like it but…” She wrings her hands in her lap. “Ultimately, he made me promise him something before he would agree to let me come here.”
“What?” I have a suspicion and I don’t like it.
“That I could never see you again.”
I sit back, fists clenched, and nearly lose my temper. I take a deep breath and calm myself with two important facts: One, in Makaio’s shoes, I probably would have wedged a similar promise out of Britta. Two, I understand his game completely. Sadly for him, I’m just better at playing.
“Then let’s work things out so you don’t make a mistake and marry him.”
Britta bites her lip so hard it blushes bright red as she tries to hold back tears. “I’ve spent three years thinking I knew precisely who you were. Gorgeous, cocky, funny, possessive, sexy…and at the same time self-absorbed, aloof, quick to blame, slow to trust, even slower to commit. Last night, that engagement ring…” She shudders as she inhales to keep the tears at bay. “You made me question everything. I’ve spent our time apart believing that our relationship meant far more to me than to you, that you were never the sort of man who was going to simply love a woman for the rest of your life, that you could never care about me enough to stay and be faithful and—”
“You’re wrong. Not about being self-absorbed. Or having difficulties trusting. But the rest…”
“Why? Why couldn’t you trust me?”
I wave her away. If she can’t handle the number of women I slept with during our split, the rest of my past will blow her mind. She’ll never look at me the same. “Shitty childhood. You’ve met my parents.”
She winces. “They’re terrible people.”
“Exactly.” And hopefully that’s all I ever have to say again about that topic. I couldn’t stand it if she looked at me like some psycho-sexual monster. “But you’re wrong about the way I felt back then. Our relationship meant everything. I did want to love you forever, faithfully. I wanted to marry you and…” Fuck, now I’m getting choked up. “I didn’t know how to tell you then, and I’m trying to now.”
“I just wish you hadn’t waited until I was engaged to someone else.”
Her whisper rips at me. I wish I had a good answer other than I should have pulled my head out of my ass sooner. But I don’t. I can only try to move her forward with me.
“I didn’t coerce you to live with me until your wedding day to make your life hell. I did it to prove that we belong together. If you didn’t believe, at least a little bit, that I might be right, this situation would be easy for you. You would tell me to fuck off. You might acknowledge me as Jamie’s father and make me fight out visitation in the courts, but you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. We’re here because what you feel for me is more than the remnants of first love. There’s something else between us. Can you admit that much?”
She inches back on the sofa and crosses her arms over her chest, like she needs space between us. “If I do, you’ll only come at me harder.”
“But I’m right?”
No doubt she’ll think I’m a pushy bastard, but Britta needs comfort and I think she needs it badly. From me. I take her hand and rub my thumb over her knuckles.
She grips my hand in return as she squeezes her eyes shut, silently affirming everything I’ve been thinking. “Yes.”
We’re finally getting somewhere. I sit up straighter and bring her closer. I want to put her palm against my skin. Hell, I want to put my hands all over her body. I live in a constant state of arousal fantasizing about it. But she’s worth every moment of the agony.
“Thank you, angel. In order for you to figure out if you want me in your life, if what we have could work for you, we both have to be as honest as possible. I’ve been trying. I’ve been letting you in on everything I’m feeling and thinking—”
“I told Keeley today that you’re so forthcoming I almost don’t know who you are.” She sends me a teary smile. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m waiting for the old you to show up. In the past, I spent half my time wondering if I mattered to you. Or if I even crossed your mind. Now I know. It’s refreshing, on the one hand. Disarming on the other.”
“If you’ll let me, I’ll tell you every day that I’m thinking of you. That I want you. That I love you. I’ll never make you wonder again.”
“What about the rest of our problems? I mean…you just left me that morning. I didn’t even know what was going on so I could defend myself and tell you why you were misunderstanding the situation. You severed all ties before I could assure you that I knew nothing about Maxon’s deal with that secretive prince.”
I wince. “I know. But I’m getting better at trust.”
Britta shakes her head. “That’s not enough for me. We have a child now. Whatever anger you have? You have to think beyond it long enough to figure out what’s best for everyone. This can’t be about your temper and your pride anymore.”
“You’re right. Does it help if I make you a promise? If we ever seemingly reach the end of our relationship, I’ll talk to you. And you’ll talk to me. If we do that, I can’t imagine that we’ll ever call it quits again.” I edge closer to her. “Britta, I was young and cocky. Angry and stupid. Immature. You’ve met my parents. That was my example of marriage. I knew I loved you. I was afraid to say it because that would be giving you power over me.”
“But you had that power over me.”
I nod, conceding the point. “You have to understand… I’ve seen one partner punish the other with their ‘love.’ The thought of reliving that wasn’t something I could handle. But I’m telling you now because I know you’ll never abuse it. Because I’ve lived years without you, and it made me fucking miserable.”
She frowns like she doesn’t understand me at all. I’m not surprised. Her mother is a doll of a woman who loves her daughter with all her heart. She chose a man who ultimately didn’t stay with her because he went back to his ex-wife. But Eleanor knew her heartache was as much her lover’s fault as her own. She’s not resentful. Her maternal adoration shines in everything she does for Britta. My angel never saw two people tear each other up on a daily basis for the sport of it. She never gave her heart to anyone who crushed it simply for amusement.
“If you could promise you would never walk out on me again without a conversation—”
“Absolutely. Done. I will never, ever simply leave without a word. You won’t do that to me?”
Britta frowns. “Whether we’re together or not, you know that’s not my style.”
She’s right. It’s not. I’m a lucky bastard that Britta has never been the sort to try to make me jealous or angry or threaten me to get a reaction. Honest. Kind. Caring. Perfect. That’s her.
“Okay, so that’s one hurdle. I think…” She swallows. “We have to talk about all the other women.”
“When we were together, I never once cheated on you.”
“But you’ve hardly been a monk the last three years.”
I want to protest. She can’t hold against me what I did when we were apart. But she can’t help how she feels about everything I’ve done since we separated any more than I can help how I feel about her crappy fiancé.
“If you’ll say yes to me…” I dare to curl my fingers around her nape and make damn sure she’s looking into my eyes. “If you’ll marry me, I guarantee you’ll be the last woman I ever touch. And I’ll never give you a reason to want anyone else.”
Much less someone like Makaio Kāle.
“I’m not ready to commit to that.”
I try not to gnash my teeth. It’s like we’re having a circular argument. I don’t know how to move her forward. I can’t go back.
“Angel…”
“But your point about our time together makes sense. At the end, we should be certain of our decision to either get back together or split up for good. What if…” She sighs, collecting her thoughts. “What if you had the right idea earlier? Instead of one night of trying to imagine what life would be like if we’d been married all this time, what if we live that way the rest of our time here together? Minus the sex, of course.”
Of course. That part doesn’t thrill me, but the rest? I want to throw a fucking party. “Hell yes!”
That’s a far better concession than I ever expected her to give me. It’s such a relief to know I won’t have to fight her for every conversation we share for roughly the next seven weeks.
The smile she gives me is halting at first, but it grows, reaches her eyes. It makes her come alive. It makes her look happy.
This is what I’ve been waiting for, fighting for, aching for.
Britta Stone is almost mine again.