Abraham didn’t believe it was possible to miss one human being so much. She still hadn’t contacted him, although he’d learned from Tessa that she’d stood up to her adviser and was now giving him hell – and it sounded like the rest of the advisory board was listening to her. He wanted to tell her he was proud of her. He wanted to hold her and congratulate her. He wanted to hold her, period.
But no, you had to go and be a jackass.
He knew that he’d have to grovel if he was going to make this right. And it couldn’t just be a grand gesture, not flowers or chocolates or diamond jewelry or something. He needed to show her that he understood how exactly he’d fucked up… and that he wouldn’t do it again.
It took some convincing to get the bookstore sisters, friends, and Tessa to get on board with him, but he finally won them over. Getting the guys from MPG to go to the bookstore wasn’t a hardship, because… well, the Frost sisters were hot, and the guys didn’t mind any opportunity to check them out and try and charm them. Granted, it never worked, but hope sprang eternal at Mysterious Pickles.
“When is she getting here?” Jose asked, his arm around his new girlfriend, Kelly. “I want to take Kelly to dinner at the Italian place, over on Railroad.”
Abraham let out a low whistle. “Nice,” he said. “I don’t know when she’s going to get here, but you don’t have to stay.”
“No, I want to,” Jose said, smiling. “You’re making a big move here. Believe me, I get how difficult it is to stand up to the guys, and stop being that douchebag when it comes to women. Once I met Kelly,” and the look he gave her was gentle and joyous, “I knew I didn’t want to be that guy anymore.”
“Well, she may not want me, so wish me luck,” Abraham said. He couldn’t remember feeling this nervous before, ever. Not before football games, not when he was in Afghanistan, not before game launches. Possibly because Ani meant more to him than anything he’d ever experienced before.
He just had to let her know that.
“Hey guys,” Ani’s voice called out from the entryway. “Lot of cars tonight! Is there a sale…” Her words petered off as she got a look at the MPG guys – and then Abraham. “What are you doing here?”
The deep freeze of her voice was not promising, but Abraham girded himself. “I’m groveling,” he said.
Her jaw dropped slightly. “You’re what, now?”
“Groveling,” he continued doggedly. “I fucked up. I know that now.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her arms crossed. “Why should I even listen to you?”
“Because I’m learning.”
“So you’ve changed.”
“No. Not entirely,” he said, wanting to be completely honest with her. “I am going to screw up more, I know it. And I am still going to have – what did you call them? – Alpha-hole tendencies. If we’re together, I’m going to think of you as my woman. I’m going to want to protect you and provide for you and beat any guy who mistreats you to a bloody pulp.”
She stared at him.
“But I’m also going to realize that you can take care of yourself. And that it’s not all about me, and I need to stop trying to make it about me. I’m going to remember that taking care of you means listening and stuff like doing laundry and bringing you dinner or making you chai when you’re hungover.”
He saw it: the small smile. Hope bloomed in his chest like an atom bomb.
“And I’m groveling in front of not only your friends, but the guys from MPG, because I was an asshole when I was with them, and I want to show you that I’m not just saying this when it’s easy. I’m not just acting one way in front of you and another in front of the gang. I don’t want to be that guy.”
“So, he’s begging to be whipped, then? That’s why we’re here?” Dennis stage-whispered to Fezza.
Abraham sighed. “Specifically,” he clarified, pointing at Dennis, “I don’t want to be that guy.”
Ani took a few steps forward, her arms still crossed. Her dark brown eyes were rimmed with tears. “You really hurt me,” she said slowly. “It still hurts.”
His arms ached to hold her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so damned sorry. I never want to hurt you again.”
She stared into his eyes. Then she sighed, nodded, and leaned forward. He eagerly folded her into his arms, feeling her arms weave around his chest.
“I missed you,” she said. “And I’ll forgive you. But if you hurt me like this again…”
“I can’t promise I won’t screw up on other things,” he said. “But I won’t hurt you like this again. That, I can and will promise.”
“I’ll work with you on it,” she said. And kissed him.
Epilogue
2 Years Later
Ani was nervous. She stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, holding the robes she was going to wear shortly in front of her. In just a few hours, she was going to walk across the platform and receive her doctorate. Right now, she was dressed in a flame-to-peach colored dress that Kyla had made for her. Her parents were in town. Everyone from the bookstore was going to be there.
“You ready?” Abraham asked, sneaking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, nibbling at her neck as he took in both of them in the mirror. His gray eyes glowed with approval. “You look amazing.”
“You always say that. Even when I’m in sweats, you say that,” she said, leaning back and nuzzling her head against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I always mean it,” he said.
She’d moved in with him a year and a half ago, and she hadn’t regretted it for a second. When he promised not to hurt her like that again, he meant it. He’d spent that time taking care of her, becoming more supportive than any spouse she’d seen in the program. He gave her back rubs, he made her food, he did the laundry.
Every now and then, he’d have gaming parties at the house. She’d hear “the guys” giving him shit about being a house husband. To her shock, he never rose to the bait. Instead, he’d remain chill with Adam and Rodney and Jose, and shake his head.
“You guys don’t know,” he said, looking particularly pitying when it came to Dennis. “Someday you will.”
Now, he was kissing her, holding her. She wished there was a little more time before they had to get to the campus, so she could show him in a much more physical way just how much all his help and support meant to her.
“I couldn’t be here, couldn’t have done all this, without your help,” she said, her voice clogging with emotion.
He shook his head. “You’re one of the strongest women I know. And they got rid of that asshole Dr. Peterson, so you got to work with Dr. Kantor. You would’ve made it regardless.”
“Everybody who does something like this needs help. I had you. I want you to know that I never want to take you for granted,” she said. “You said you’d never hurt me, and with whatever stupid fights we’ve had, you’ve kept your word.”
His eyes were shining, and he turned her to face him, kissing her gently.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you back,” she said, kissing him a little harder. “I’m glad we’re celebrating with everyone tonight, but I swear, tonight, you’re going to get a special show. Just you and me.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow went up.
“This dress,” she said, gesturing down, “isn’t the only thing I had Kyla whip up for me.”
“Oh.” His smile was fierce. “In that case – I can’t wait for tonight.”
She was still laughing when he held her hand. “I’ve got something you can wear in the meantime, though. I didn’t have Kyla make it, but I hope you like it anyway.”
She paused, puzzled, when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Her heart caught in her chest.
“Is that…?”
“Will you marry me, baby?” he asked, and his voice actually shook. “Because I don’t want to be without you. Ever.”
“Yes,” she said without hesit
ation. “Yes, yes, yes.”
With that, she kissed him.
“That’s my girl,” he said, slipping the diamond on her finger. She watched as it flashed on her finger, catching the light like his eyes. “Anything you want, I want to give to you.”
She pulled back to look at him, smirking.
“Think you can wear the leather pants and mask tonight?”
His grin was slow and broad.
“Oh… I think that can be arranged.”
About the Author
Author Photograph © Linda Gossett Raderman
Cathy Yardley is an award-winning author of romance, chick lit, and urban fantasy, who has sold over 1.2 million copies of books for publishers like St. Martin’s, Avon, and Harlequin. She writes fun, geeky, and diverse characters who believe that underdogs can make good and sometimes being a little wrong is just right. She spends her time writing in the wilds of Eastern Washington with her husband, son, and three dogs.
Connect with Cathy:
Mailing list signup and book list: http://www.cathyyardley.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CathyYardleyAuthor/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Cathy_Yardley
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cathyyardley
Email: [email protected]
COPYRIGHT PAGE
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
WHAT HAPPENS AT CON. Copyright 2018 by Cathy Wilson. All rights reserved.
First edition: July 2018
What Happens at Con Page 17
