A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3)

by Adams, Noelle

  “You are an asshole. A big one.”

  “I know I am.” He reached out for her hand to lead her off the dance floor, but she jerked away from his touch like he’d burned her. “I’m an asshole. We all agree. But that doesn’t explain your sudden decline into this particular state.”

  “I’m having fun. I’m getting drunk. I can do it just like everyone else, no matter what you think of me. Now go away. You’re harshing my vibe.”

  “Did you actually just say har—”

  “Yes, I said it!” In her vehemence, she might have spit a little. “I can say anything I want. You can’t stop me.”

  “All right. I’m not going to stop you. You can dance to country music and use stupid expressions to your heart’s content. But I’m not going to leave you here drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy.” She grinned at him, pleased with that brilliant piece of repartee. Then she remembered something. “Hey! You shouldn’t have driven here. You’re drunk too!”

  “I haven’t been drunk in hours. I’m dead sober now, and I’m getting you home.” He put an arm around her and propelled her toward where Rosa was standing and waiting for them.

  “But Rosa—”

  “Rosa can drive you. She can even take you back to her place if you want her to. But you’re leaving here right now.” Lance didn’t sound mean or worried or anything really. Just firm and vaguely resigned.

  Savannah liked the feel of Lance’s lean body beside her. She liked the smell of him and the slight rumble in his voice. She leaned against him heavily when he came to a stop beside Rosa.

  She forgot she was angry at him. “Take me home,” she mumbled, pressing her face against his T-shirt.

  “I am.” One of his arms slid around her more, holding her fully against him. “That’s why I’m here.”

  She felt a hand stroking her hair very gently. It took a while, but she eventually figured out it must be Lance doing it. She sighed and closed her eyes, loving the sensation.

  “I’m going to take her home with me, if that’s all right with you.” That was Lance talking, but he didn’t seem to be talking to her, so Savannah just sighed again and rubbed her cheek against his shirt.

  “I guess, if you think you can manage not to be the biggest asshole in the history of the world again because you’re too scared to tell her the truth.” Rosa. Sounding tired and annoyed.

  Savannah didn’t even try to piece together that incomprehensible comment. She wrapped her arms around Lance’s tight waist and squeezed him. No one had ever felt as nice as he did.

  “I’m not going to be an asshole,” he said. “I didn’t understand what was happening here, but I’m finally figuring it out now.”

  “You better. Don’t you dare do this to her again.”

  “I won’t.”

  Savannah wasn’t following much of this, but she was pleased she’d come away with the core of the conversation. “Lance is an asshole.”

  “Yes, he is,” Lance said.

  “Yes,” Rosa added. “He is. But he’s going to take you home now, and he’s not going to do it again.”

  “Okay.” Savannah ran one of her hands up and down Lance’s bicep. “Lance has the best arms.”

  “You can admire them all you want once we get out of here. Let’s go. Now.” He peeled her off the front of his body and tried to get her to walk at his side again, the way they’d done before.

  She started with him compliantly since she couldn’t see any reason not to.

  Then she remembered.

  “No!” She jerked to a stop like she’d suddenly applied brakes. “I’m mad at you.”

  “I know that, but you’re still going home with me tonight. If you want to leave me tomorrow, you can do it.”

  “I will.” She glared up at him angrily, but his face was too blurry to make out. “I don’t want to be your wife. I don’t love you anymore.”

  She really didn’t know what was happening, but it seemed like he suddenly grew still. Like he froze. He didn’t move for what felt like a long time.

  Then he asked in what was barely a breath, “What did you say?”

  She huffed and gave him a shove that couldn’t possibly hope to move his body. “I said I don’t love you anymore. Because I don’t. Asshole.”

  Before she knew what was happening, his arms were almost crushing her in a hug. She squealed in outrage at the unexpected pressure.

  He released her almost immediately.

  She tried to summon up a good glare, only managing to narrow her eyes. “I said I don’t—”

  “I know what you said.” His voice sounded different. “And it’s a perfectly reasonable way to feel. I wouldn’t love me either.”

  That confused her. She stood frowning and tried to work it out.

  “Savannah, it’s time to walk.”

  She was still working on the bewildering riddle. She swatted his arm away.

  “Savannah.”

  “I’m thinking!”

  “Think while we go home.” He changed positions, moving in front of her. Then he bent his knees, leaned forward, and swung her arm around him just before he hefted her onto one of his shoulders, her head hanging down his back.

  “Hey!”

  “I know,” he said, his voice coming from somewhere near her butt. “But we’d never get out of here at the rate we were going. You can yell at me for it tomorrow.”

  Even in her dazed state, she remembered that he’d carried her like this the first night they’d had sex. He’d carried her into the bedroom.

  To prove that the night wasn’t over.

  It hurt so much. How they’d gotten from that night to right now.

  She whimpered and fought a wave of nausea, her body bouncing slightly as he walked.

  A burst of cold air hit her as he exited the building. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough to overcome her churning stomach and rising dizziness.

  “Oh no,” she moaned.

  “We’re almost to the car.” He’d wrapped an arm around her thighs to keep her stable.

  “I think I’m gonna throw up now.”

  “Okay.” Before she knew what was happening, he’d set her back down on the ground. They were in a parking lot. She figured out that much.

  Her stomach heaved, and she bent over. She would have fallen facedown on the pavement if Lance hadn’t caught her, holding her up and keeping her hair back as she vomited.

  When her stomach finally settled, she burst into tears.

  “Oh shit, baby,” Lance murmured, his arms moving around her more securely. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  She cried helplessly into his shirt until the cotton was wet with her tears, saliva, and snot. If he hadn’t been supporting her, she would have collapsed to the pavement and maybe never gotten up again.

  When the worst of the sobs had worn themselves out, Lance said, “We’re almost to the car. Let me take you home.”

  “Okay.” She sniffed and rubbed her damp face on a dry spot on his shirt. “I want to go home.”

  She leaned on him as they walked a short distance to his SUV. He eased her into the passenger seat, and she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe she passed out. She wasn’t sure what happened, but she had no memory of the drive back to the condo.

  The next thing she was aware of was Lance leaning into the passenger side of the SUV where she was sprawled out. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a wordless babble.

  “It’s okay,” Lance said. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

  With some maneuvering, he picked up her up and carried her again, but this time she was cradled in his arms.

  “What’s happening?” she mumbled as he shifted her in his grip so he could unlock their front door.

  “We’re home. And you’re going to bed now to sleep it off.”

  “Okay.” She held on to him tightly as they walked down the hall. She could feel his so
ft hair against her skin. “Lance?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  She didn’t know what she wanted to ask. She was so tired now she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Then she remembered something. “Did I tell you I don’t love you anymore?”

  “Yes. You told me.”

  “Because I don’t.” There. That definitely needed to be said, just in case he was confused about how she’d been acting just now.

  “Okay. I don’t believe you, but it’s fine if you want to say it.”

  “What?”

  He laid her down gently on her bed, reaching down to pull off her shoes. When he dropped them on the floor, he leaned over to press a kiss on her lips. “I didn’t understand before. I thought the same thing was happening as always happens to me—that the people I love don’t love me back. I was buying what you were trying to sell me. But I get it now. I don’t believe you anymore.”

  She blinked up at him. “You don’t?”

  He smiled. She could see clearly enough to see the smile, and it was the sweetest thing. “Rosa was right. I was scared. I’ve lived my life expecting to never be loved for real. So I believed you. But I don’t believe you anymore.”

  Her face twisted with an emotion she wasn’t in a fit state to process. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t. But you will.”

  She cried a little bit, sprawled out in her clothes on top of her covers. Then Lance went away for a minute and came back with toothpaste on a toothbrush.

  He handed it to her. “Brush.”

  She managed, but rather clumsily. Then she spit in the cup he held in front of her mouth.

  Her tongue tasted a lot better after that, and she gulped down some of the water he brought her. Then he helped her take off her jeans, top, and bra and put her in a set of fleece pajamas.

  She was climbing under the covers when he came back to the bed and rubbed her face with a damp washcloth. She whimpered at the pleasure of it.

  When he pulled his hand back, she grabbed for his wrist. “Sleep with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “But I want you to sleep with me.”

  “I want to, but I’m not going to do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when you wake up tomorrow, your feelings aren’t going to be clouded by alcohol, and you might not want me in bed with you.”

  “But I want you to stay.” It seemed vitally important that she tell him that. She was clinging to his arm with both hands.

  He stroked her damp hair back from her face with his free hand. “Okay. I’ll stay. But not in bed.”

  She didn’t know what he was talking about, but his agreement was enough to get her to loosen her grip. She relaxed and closed her eyes, trying to figure out why there were all those lights dancing against her dark eyelids.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was dark in the room. She was scared and sat up in a panic.

  “I’m right here.” Lance’s voice, coming from beside the bed.

  She blinked until her eyes adjusted, and she saw he’d dragged the chair over that normally sat in the corner of the room and was used only to drape the clothes on that she decided not to wear in the mornings.

  He was sitting in the chair beside the bed.

  “Go back to sleep, baby. I’m here.”

  “Okay.”

  She did what he said because he’d said it. And because he hadn’t left her.

  Ten

  THE NEXT MORNING, SAVANNAH woke up with her head throbbing and her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. She tried to lift her head and groaned instead when the effort was simply too painful.

  She blinked in the dim room. It must be morning because she could see the strip of light through the windows surrounding the blinds. But she had no idea what time it was. What day it was. What world she was living in.

  She managed to turn her head enough to see that Lance was in a chair beside the bed.

  It was so strange. He was fully dressed in a T-shirt and khakis, but he’d evidently been sleeping in that chair. He was slumped down it in, his head lolling to the side. The chair was upholstered, but it had a straight back and a sleek, modern style. It must have been miserably uncomfortable to sleep in.

  She had no idea what he was doing in her room like that. Dark stubble covered his jaw. He clearly hadn’t shaved in multiple days.

  Her groan must have awakened him because he lifted his head and straightened up with a sputtering sound. His eyes flew to her immediately. “Hey,” he murmured hoarsely. “How you feeling?”

  His expression was too gentle. It wasn’t like him. And her head was throbbing so intensely she was convinced it might explode. Maybe she was dying or something.

  She raised a hand to feel her head. “Do I have a concussion or something?” Her voice was scratchy. Almost unrecognizable. “Did I fall and bust my head open?”

  He chuckled softly and pushed both hands through his wild hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it. “Not exactly. This is what a hangover feels like. It’s what we mere mortals have experienced many times, but I guess it’s the first time for you.”

  She groaned again as she pushed herself up farther, propping her back against the pillows. “I have a hangover?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you remember last night?”

  She shook her head. Whenever her mind tried to reach for the memories, it hurt too much to pierce through the darkness.

  Lance got up and handed her a half-drunk bottle of water from the nightstand. Then he dragged the chair closer to the bed and sat down in it again, leaning forward like he was going to talk to her.

  She took several gulps of water. Shot him a few quick, wary looks.

  Something weird was going on here.

  How the hell had she ended up with a hangover? She’d never been drunk in her whole life.

  She breathed and drank more water and tried to clear her head. Gradually, flashes of memory came back to her. Country music. Guys in cowboy boots. Grinding up against a stranger. Drinking way too much.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, closing her eyes and setting the water down on the nightstand so she wouldn’t spill it.

  At some point, Lance had gotten up and gone into the bathroom, because he was returning now with a damp washcloth. “Coming back to you now, is it?”

  “What the hell... What was I thinking?”

  He leaned over and wiped her face with the cool washcloth. “Drink some more water. I promise it will help.”

  She did what he told her, feeling ridiculously like a sick child. The washcloth felt good, so she let him wipe her face with it again after she’d gulped down more water.

  “Shit,” she breathed, closing her eyes and willing away a night that was still mostly a painful blur. “I’ve never been so stupid in my life.”

  Lance chuckled softly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” His voice was characteristically dry but still had that edge of gentleness. “All of us are stupid occasionally. Granted, most of us do the drunk-off-our-ass thing when we’re seventeen or twenty-two. Not thirty-one. But hey. Some of us are just late bloomers.”

  She opened her eyes. “Lance?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  She blinked at the endearment, but she liked the sound of it so didn’t question it. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Can you promise me that I’ll never again have to hear you say the word bloomer?”

  Laughter spilled out of him, warming his face and shaking his body. He reached down and pulled her into a soft hug.

  She loved the feel of that too, so she held on to him.

  The intensity of her headache had faded just slightly, and as it did more fragments of memories were coming back to her. She suddenly remembered a different scene from the day before. Here in the condo.

  Lance saying the meanest things anyone had ever said to her. Things that had hurt her more than anything else had.

  She sucked in a har
sh gasp and drew back from him abruptly.

  He let her go immediately, sinking into the chair with a resigned expression. “Remembering more now?”

  “You... asshole. How can you sit there and act like you’re... we’re... when you treated me that way just yesterday? Did you think I wouldn’t remember?”

  He shook his head. “No. I figured you would. And if you didn’t, I’d have told you. Otherwise it would have sat there like a bomb waiting to explode in my face.”

  “What are you...?” She wished her head wasn’t hurting so much so she could think more clearly. “You said... you said...”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I know what I said, Savannah. I’ll never be able to forget it or take it back. All I can say now is that I’m sorrier than I’ve ever been in my life and that I didn’t mean it.”

  She made a choking sound. “You didn’t mean it?”

  “No. I didn’t mean it. I was being worse than an asshole. I was doing what I always used to do. Lashing out because I felt wounded. Attacking before I could be attacked. I thought... I thought I’d grown. Gotten better. But I haven’t. I guess I’m the same heartless, entitled guy I used to be. It felt too hard. It hurt too much. And I took it out on you. I’m so sorry, Savannah.”

  She raised both her hands to surround her head, applying pressure in an attempt to ease the throbbing. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’d told me we needed to stop what we were doing. I assumed you were about to break things off with me. I thought I’d lost you. So I tried to protect myself by pretending I didn’t want you when I did. I do. I always will.” He reached over to touch her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it, Savannah. I didn’t mean any of it.”

  Her throat was closing up. Her head was spinning as well as throbbing. For a moment she was sure she might vomit.

  “Shit, you’ve gone white. Are you gonna be sick?”

  She breathed slowly until her head stopped spinning. “No. I’m okay now.” Tears pricked at her eyes. “Am I just supposed to believe you?”

  “No. Of course not.” He was almost smiling, which was the strangest thing. “It wouldn’t be like you at all just to believe me for no reason.”