Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  “But you’re not eating that scone and I happen to know that blueberry-lemon-thyme is your favorite.”

  I laughed. “I told you I wasn’t that hungry. And I’m meeting Cole and Mariah for dinner soon. We’re going to do some shopping and then go for tacos.”

  “Nice. Have you gotten him something for Christmas yet?”

  I nodded. “A sweater and a scarf. Do you think that’s too boring?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I got Mariah a giant furry blanket, plus some lip gloss and nail polish.”

  “She’ll love it. Do you have any idea what Cole is getting you?”

  “No. He might not even get me anything.”

  Blair rolled her eyes. “Because he might forget the woman he loves at Christmas?”

  I blushed. As soon as Cole had left my house last Friday night, I’d texted her HE JUST TOLD ME HE LOVES ME!!! in giant shouty caps. “I don’t know. Maybe he hasn’t had time to shop yet. He’s been busy with the house.”

  “Give me a break.” She took another sip of coffee. “How are things going with the house?”

  I sat up taller and smiled. “Good. I saw it on Monday, and it’s incredible. I mean, it needs a ton of work, but it’s a beautiful old brick house with a wraparound porch and a huge yard.”

  “When does he move in?”

  “Closing is the twenty-ninth, but I don’t think he’s moving in until after the first.”

  “When do you move in?” She smiled deviously.

  “Blair!” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not moving in. Good grief, it’s only been a few weeks.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks since you guys did something about your feelings,” she clarified. “But the feelings have been there a lot longer than that. And it sounds like everything is perfect, so what on earth is bothering you?”

  Sighing, I took one more sip of tea and set the cup down. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but this is going to sound totally stupid, and you’re probably going to tell me I’m nuts.”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  I rolled my eyes and sat up taller. “So everything is going really well. We see each other every day, even if it’s just for a little bit. We talk for hours on the phone each night. And the way he looks at me—it’s the cutest thing, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear.”

  “Awww.” She sipped her coffee, holding the cup in two hands.

  “We don’t get enough alone time, of course, but when we do, the sex is like rattle-the-ceiling good.”

  “Yes, I know—because you rattled my kitchen floor when you were going at it downstairs in the garage.”

  My cheeks got hot, and I laughed. “Sorry about that. We were trying to be fast. And quiet, I swear.”

  “Fail,” she said. “But I’m still not hearing any cause for concern here, Chey.”

  “I’m getting to it. A week ago, the night he told me he loved me, in fact, he mentioned something about being afraid.”

  Blair’s eyes widened. “What did he say he was afraid of?”

  “Something he can’t see coming.” I let it sink in for a moment. “And ever since then, I cannot shake the feeling that he’s, like, looking over his shoulder, waiting for disaster to strike.”

  “Hmm. Are you sure you’re not imagining it?”

  “I’m sure. He seems happy, but he goes silent a lot too. And when I ask if he’s okay, he says he’s just thinking about the house or something at work, or he gives me the dreaded ‘I’m fine.’”

  She nodded. “It kind of makes sense, you know? The whole ‘waiting for disaster’ thing? Looking at you like he’s worried you’ll disappear? He’s probably nervous about feeling so happy. Like, he’s looking around for the anvil about to drop on his head because that’s what happened when he loved someone before.”

  “You might be right.” I thought for a moment, chewing my lip. “He said something else once, and I never forgot it. He was talking about Mariah, and he said, ‘She’s learned that love doesn’t protect you from loss.’ Like it was a fact.”

  “Well . . .” Blair’s shoulders rose. “It kind of is.”

  “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love people,” I said, frustrated that she agreed with him.

  “No, and he wasn’t saying that. He was saying that love isn’t some kind of magic shield you can wear that will prevent you from getting hurt. In fact, love makes you more vulnerable to pain.”

  “Blaaaaair,” I moaned. “You’re not helping. You were supposed to tell me I’m being paranoid.”

  “Sorry. But I don’t think you are.” She set her cup down and reached for my hand. “Listen. You’re in love with a man who suffered a horrible loss, out of the blue, on the happiest day of his life. He wouldn’t be human if he wasn’t a little scared of falling in love again.”

  “But he’s not saying that.”

  She gave me a look. “Are you kidding? What man is going to volunteer to talk about his emotional baggage when you ask if they’re okay? Remember that episode of Friends where Ross finds out Rachel and Joey are a couple and he’s all ‘I’m fine’ over and over again, but it’s obvious he isn’t?”

  Despite everything, I smiled. “Oh yeah.”

  “Cole is kind of like Ross here. He’s just working through it. Take a breath, okay?”

  I did what she said, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. “Sorry. Maybe you’re right. I guess I’m still learning things about him. I get nervous when he goes quiet. And it’s still hard for me to believe that after all this time, he’s really mine.”

  “Get him talking about old man baseball. That’ll perk him right up.”

  I burst out laughing. “I bet you’re right.” Then I picked up the scone and took a bite. “Thanks. I feel better.”

  * * *

  Cole and Mariah met me at the bakery, and we strolled up and down the streets of downtown Bellamy Creek, which were all decked out for the holidays. Strands of lights stretched across Main Street. Boughs of evergreens adorned every streetlamp. Wreaths hung on every door. Christmas carols played in every shop.

  As we walked along, Cole held my hand, and some of the unease I’d felt earlier dissipated. When people we knew stopped on the street to say hello, he didn’t let go. When we went into a store to look around, he’d show me something that he knew would make me laugh, or drop an arm over my shoulder, and once he even kissed my forehead.

  I decided Blair was right, and I was being paranoid. So what if he occasionally seemed a little broody? So what if he didn’t tell me everything that was on his mind? So what if he needed some time to realize that there was no dragon waiting to snatch his happiness away?

  What mattered was that I was the one he’d been willing to fight for. That we were together now. That when he looked into his future, he saw me. Us. A family.

  I would continue to show him patience, love, and understanding.

  I wanted him to feel safe with me.

  Twenty-Five

  Cole

  “Mariah, come on,” I complained Saturday night. “You’ve been sitting between us all day.”

  I’d had the day off, and we’d taken Mariah over to a neighboring farm, which offered horse-drawn sleigh rides. She’d wanted to sit between us in the sled, and we’d said of course, the three of us cuddling up beneath a thick wool blanket. Afterward, we’d returned to town for an early supper, and Mariah had requested to sit at the counter of the Bellamy Creek Diner. We’d laughed when she insisted on the counter stool in between us. Back at our house, we were going to watch The Grinch, and once again, she was claiming the couch real estate between us.

  “So what?” she asked.

  “So I get to sit next to Cheyenne now.” I got her in a gentle headlock and pretended to strangle her.

  Mariah squirmed and giggled, tugging at my arms. “No!”

  “How about if I paint your nails while we watch, Mariah?” Cheyenne suggested.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go get the polish.”

&
nbsp; I dropped my arms, and Mariah darted upstairs. “You know,” I said, getting Cheyenne in a headlock this time, “that didn’t solve the problem.”

  “What problem?” she asked, laughing as I squeezed her.

  “That I want to be next to you for once. She’s hogging you.” I loosened my grip, and she turned to face me, twining her arms around my waist.

  “It’s cute. I don’t mind.”

  “I do,” I said gruffly.

  “Listen. I feel really lucky that she’s happy about us. I want her to feel included. If it means letting her sit between us, I’m okay with it. It won’t be forever. Soon she’ll be a teenager and she won’t want anything to do with us.”

  Groaning, I kissed her temple. “I can’t think about that. I’m going to throw some popcorn in the microwave and grab a beer. Want something to drink?”

  “No thanks.”

  I went into the kitchen, got the popcorn going, and uncapped a beer. While I waited for the microwave to go off, I listened to Mariah and Cheyenne chatter in the next room. My mom was visiting her sister in Gaylord this weekend, so it was just the three of us.

  This is how it would be at the new house if she lived with us, I thought. The three of us home on a snowy Saturday night, Christmas just days away, a perfect winter afternoon behind us. A brand new year ahead of us. It was comfortable, easy, intimate.

  So why couldn’t I shake the uneasy feeling that it couldn’t last?

  Stop it, I told myself, lifting my beer to my lips. I was determined not to let negative thoughts distract me tonight. More than once Cheyenne had caught me brooding silently over the last week, and I always said it was nothing. I didn’t want her to worry, and sooner or later this stupid nagging fear would loosen its grip on me, wouldn’t it? I just had to tough it out.

  “So which color?” I heard Mariah ask from the next room.

  “Hmm. I like the darker one,” Cheyenne replied. “More dramatic for Christmas Eve. Think you can make it last until Thursday night?”

  “I’ll try,” Mariah said.

  Then I heard clicking noises, as if Cheyenne were shaking the polish. “Are you excited for Santa to come?”

  “Yes,” Mariah said. “I’m still hoping for a puppy. Daddy says he doesn’t bring animals, but Avery Frankel in my class said that’s a lie because she got a rabbit from Santa last year.”

  Cheyenne laughed. “Well . . . good luck.”

  “What did you ask him for?”

  “A winning lottery ticket.”

  “Why?”

  “So that I can move out of my mother’s house and get a place of my own,” Cheyenne said, her voice determined. “And rescue a dog.”

  “You could move in with us,” Mariah suggested. “Then we could share the dog!”

  Cheyenne laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think you and your dad should make that house all your own.”

  “But it’s big enough for you too,” Mariah insisted. “You could even have your own room.”

  That made me smile—as if I’d let her sleep anywhere but next to me.

  “You’re sweet,” Cheyenne told her. “And I promise to come visit you a lot, how’s that?”

  A loud sigh from my daughter. “I guess that’s good.” Then her tone brightened. “Hey, maybe you could buy the house next door!”

  Cheyenne burst out laughing. “We’ll see, sweetie. Right now, I couldn’t even afford that doghouse in the yard. Come on, let’s get some paper towels so we don’t make a mess.”

  A moment later, they appeared in the kitchen, and I have no idea why my heart chose that moment to fall through the floor but it did. I took one look at Cheyenne in that giant sweater with the floppy arms, and the fuzzy socks and the hat hair and the mascara that had run earlier because she’d laughed so hard she’d cried and was now smudged beneath her eyes—and I knew I loved her so much I never wanted to be without her. This was it for me. She was the one.

  My chest grew tight. My breathing was shallow.

  I wanted her to live with us. I wanted to put up our own Christmas tree. I wanted to play Santa with her after our kids went to bed and then take her to our own bedroom, undress her, and wrap myself up in her warm, soft body and stay there all night, until our kids came flying into the room in the morning again to wake us up, squealing that Santa had come. I wanted to wash the wedding china with her after Christmas dinner. I wanted the wedding.

  I wanted it all. More than that—I could see it all.

  The bed that was ours, in a home that we shared, in a life that we’d started together.

  The promise of a new forever was unfolding right in front of me.

  But promises could be broken.

  I started to sweat. My hands tingled, and I had to set my beer bottle on the counter because I was afraid I would drop it.

  “We need paper towels,” Mariah announced, going over to the roll to rip some off.

  “Hey. You okay?” Cheyenne asked, eyeing me with concern.

  No, I wasn’t okay. Not only was I in love with her, I was in love with the future I’d imagined for us—and it could all be destroyed in an instant.

  “I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Sure you don’t want a beer? Let me just get you one.” I turned toward the fridge.

  “Okay.” She came over and rubbed my back as I popped the cap off for her, hoping she wouldn’t see my hands tremble. “Sure you’re alright?”

  I nodded.

  But I wasn’t sure at all.

  I was a zombie the rest of the night.

  Distracted. Anxious. Two seconds away from a panic attack at all times. The effort to keep it from happening exhausted me.

  I couldn’t relax during the movie. I couldn’t keep my hands still. I couldn’t stop my leg from twitching.

  Cheyenne knew something was off, but didn’t ask again. And since Mariah was between us, she couldn’t touch me either. But maybe it was better that way. Maybe I shouldn’t depend on her touch to soothe me.

  After the movie, I sent Mariah up to bed and told her I’d be back after I walked Cheyenne home.

  “But I want Cheyenne to say goodnight too,” she whined.

  “No.”

  “But it’s not even that late.”

  “Not tonight,” I said sharply.

  “But Daddy, she always—”

  “Enough!” I yelled. “You can’t always get what you want. Now go up and get ready for bed!”

  Cheyenne spoke up gently. “Cole, I really don’t mind—”

  “I mind.” I cut her off.

  Hurt, Mariah hugged Cheyenne and then plodded up the stairs, sniffling. I felt horrible—I rarely raised my voice to her. But it was for her own good. I didn’t want her to get too used to Cheyenne being there to say goodnight to her all the time.

  “Ready to go?” I asked her stiffly.

  “Yes. Let me just get my coat.”

  “I’ll get it.” I grabbed her coat from the closet and held it out so she could slip her arms in. When she was all zipped up, she pulled her hat and gloves from her pocket and tugged them on.

  “I’m ready.” She was looking at me kind of like she didn’t know me, and it made me feel like shit.

  I opened the front door for her.

  “Don’t you want a coat?” she asked.

  “Nah. I’m coming right back.” But fuck, it was freezing outside. I shoved my hands in my jeans pockets as we walked.

  Cheyenne said nothing until we were on her doorstep. “Well, thanks for everything today. I had a great time.”

  “Me too.” I faced her. “And I’m sorry I lost my temper with Mariah back there. I’m just in a weird mood.”

  “I can tell. It sort of came out of nowhere.”

  “Sorry,” I said again, frustrated and angry with myself. Why should I panic about wanting to be with the woman I loved?

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to keep asking if you’re okay, so I won’t. I’ll just . . .” Looping her arms around my neck, she hugged me tight,
pressing her body to mine.

  I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her scent, and felt the tension in me ease up. “You always know what I need.”

  “I love you,” she told me.

  “I love you too,” I said, squeezing her tight. “So much. And I’m tired of walking you home at night.”

  “Cole, you never have to—”

  “I want you to spend nights with me.”

  A pause. “What?”

  “You heard me. I want you to spend nights with me. I want to say goodnight to you in a warm bed, not freezing my ass off on this porch. I want to wake up next to you. I want to make you coffee in the morning and scrape the ice off your car windows and let you pick out all my party outfits.”

  She laughed. “Cole, I would love that. But I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “It is if you move in with me.”

  She pulled back and looked up at me with wide, shocked eyes. “What?”

  “Move in with me. With us. To the new house.” I grinned. “You can try to have your own room, but I won’t let you.”

  She laughed nervously. “You heard that conversation, huh?”

  “Yes. And it made me laugh too, especially when she said you could buy the house next door.” I kissed her lips. “I don’t want you next door anymore, Cheyenne. You belong with me. You belong with us.”

  Her eyes teared up. “But Cole, I’m not quite out of debt yet. And I can’t afford to pay you—”

  “Jesus Christ, Chey.” I shook her gently. “I’m not asking you to be my roommate. I don’t want your money. I just want to be with you as much as possible.”

  “I want that too, but . . . it’s only been a month, Cole. Aren’t you worried we’re moving too fast?”

  “No. I’m thirty-three years old, and I know what I feel. I don’t want to play games or put things off. Life is short. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly, laughing again. “I know how I feel too. I just want you to be sure.”

  “I’m sure.” I kissed her again. “And we know how Mariah feels about this, so there’s nothing to hold us back. You’re already family to me, Cheyenne. Let me take care of you. It will make me happy.”