by Rica Grayson
I closed my eyes. Five months. Five months and he burned money so fast. I felt Luke's arm close around my shoulders. "I'm right here," he murmured. I squeezed his hand in silent thanks.
I took another deep breath and faced him. "I'm not pressing charges. But I want you to know that if you do it again, I will."
His face went red, and his arm raised and pulled back. I flinched.
But I didn't feel the impact.
Because Luke was in front of him, intercepting it. His eyes were glittering, his jaw set. "Fucking enough."
"I heard about you," my dad sneered. "I don't care. Don't tell me how to talk to my—”
But he didn't get a chance to say the word, because Luke's hand was on my father's shirt, getting close to his face. "See, you don't get to say that. Not for hurting her. Never again. Do you understand that?"
And suddenly my dad’s tough mask cracked. His face paled. It was clear he didn't expect it. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Do you understand?" Luke bit out sharply.
He nodded shakily. "Y-yes," he wheezed out.
I put a hand on Luke's back and said gently, "Luke, it's okay."
Abruptly, he let go.
"Someday, I'm going to marry her. If she doesn't want you there on that day, you won't be. I'll make sure of it. And you'd miss that chance with her, because you didn't straighten yourself out."
Did he just declare that he was going to marry me?
I was half-waiting for him to take it back, but he didn't.
I'm going to marry her.
What was I supposed to do with that?
And my dad looked displeased, but he remained silent. Probably since Luke was acting like he'd regret it if he so much as made the wrong move.
And I realized two things—
I was still hoping that my parents would change. It was why I gave them money. Why I could never seem to stop from hurting that they’d rejected me. Why I was letting what he did to me go.
The second was that Luke knew all that, and he had no problem telling my dad. He was still here, with me.
“Luke’s right,” I announced, my voice firm. “I’m putting my foot down. Do something to change, or lose me.”
He didn’t look at me, his head slightly bowed and looking at the ground.
I swore to myself that this would be the last time I’d let them do this to me.
And when we left a short while later, I didn't look back.
Well, that went well.
I slid into the car, wishing I was back in bed this morning and the encounter with my dad never happened. Wishing it wasn’t him that did it.
“You okay?” Luke asked me when he got in.
"Yes. No. Shit. I don't know," I lowered my head on the window, my forehead hitting the cold glass.
“Hope you’re not offended when I say he’s an asshole,” Luke started without preamble.
That brought a smile to my face. “I know. I’m not. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
But a spark of anger burned in his eyes. “Don’t. He doesn’t deserve your apology. He’s been a shit parent. And that’s not on you.”
I remembered how he nearly hit me today, and my smile dropped. If Luke wasn’t there, he probably would’ve.
I let out a breath, and it came out shaky. “Thanks for coming with me. If you hadn’t…”
He’d insisted on coming with me. Although I protested at the time, I was glad he did. Dealing with it alone would’ve been difficult.
I got through it because he was there.
He knew I was being stubborn about it earlier, but he didn’t say anything about it, and merely grinned. “Anytime. Do you want to go home?” he offered.
“If it’s okay. I’m sorry. You should’ve been with your sister today.”
He gave me a look. “That part about not apologizing…”
I rolled my eyes. “Luke, I’m not going to not apologize for taking up time that should’ve been for—”
“If you insist on doing it, then you better start going back from now, sweetheart,” he interjected. “Because you’ve been doing it ever since I met you.”
The words that were about to roll of my tongue died, and nothing came out.
What?
“How?” I hadn’t been taking his time at all. “I tried to go do my own thing. You started it.”
“You did. You waited for me on that day, waited outside your door.”
Then I remembered what he said earlier, and I promptly shut up.
He said he was going to marry me.
He was being serious.
I thought he might’ve said it as a warning so my dad would stay away, like he did with my mom.
Now I knew it wasn’t. “You weren’t joking, were you?” I blurted out.
The car pulled over at our apartment’s parking area. He shut off the engine, and then he got out, opening my door for me.
He waited a while before he asked, “About what?”
“About what you said earlier.”
“I said a lot of things.”
Ugh. He was making me spell it out for him.
We entered the building, and I decided to hell with it.
“About marriage!” I burst out.
Sylvia was just outside her door, her eyes wide. She waved her hands around. “Ignore me. I’m going away. Bye.”
But she didn’t close the door all the way. Her eyes peeked out on the narrow gap.
We stared at her suspiciously.
She shut the door immediately.
We got up another level.
“So?” I tried to wring an answer out of him.
“I thought I was making myself clear.”
Amelia, my older, widowed neighbor, who lived a floor below Sylvia was out her door, cleaning her shoes. She looked up at us with a smile. “You sorted it out!” she said brightly. “We thought you might’ve, since you both didn’t come back last night.”
“How did you… Never mind.” I sighed.
What is with everybody being outside today?
I gave Luke a look, and he merely shrugged.
“No,” I continued our conversation, “I thought you might’ve said it to drive my dad away,” I rambled on, now starting to get irritated. “You know, like when you told my mom you were my boyfriend.”
“I never lied,” he replied firmly. “And that wasn’t so far from the truth, even then.”
What?
I stopped when we reached another level.
“So you’re saying you intend to marry me? Someday?” I asked him straight up.
This was a dream. Or he was officially insane. Or I was. Because this couldn’t be real.
His eyes met mine as he said, “Baby, I couldn’t be more fucking sure.”
My lips parted, but no words came out.
“You okay?”
Okay?
No, I don’t think that was the right word. I don’t think I was even in the realm of okay. I was floating. In some cloud. Where nothing I was experiencing now was even remotely real.
“Isn’t that being a little too presumptive?” My voice came out strained. “You didn’t even ask.”
He looked amused as he asked, “Would you like me to?”
“No!”
He started to laugh.
I narrowed my gaze. “Luke, this isn’t funny.”
I scowled at him.
When I turned around, I saw Pat’s door was open all this time, only the screen door closed. She was knitting in a chair, deep in concentration at the task.
I climbed upstairs, each step heavy. I nearly made it to our level when I saw it.
My gaze was drawn down to the basket on the floor. A pile of clothes was inside. Clothes that were mine, and previously missing.
Right in front of my door like it was something I merely misplaced and it was being brought back to me.
What the hell?
I flicked my gaze to Luke.
He couldn’t have returned it si
nce I was with him this whole time, which meant—
“You never took my clothes,” I muttered, stunned.
His expression was almost smug, with a look that was clearly an I told you so. “I thought I told you that I didn’t take them.”
Shit.
Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “Luke, if you didn’t take the clothes, that means our neighbors took them.”
The walls are thin, Sylvia told me once.
I saw the moment it hit him, too. But instead of sharing my feelings, his face cracked a wide grin. “Can’t say it didn’t work. It brought you back to me.”
Typical.
“Right. I’m sure you probably conspired with them or something.”
“I didn’t need to. You already said I was important to you.”
I slapped a hand over my forehead in frustration. I took a peek down the railing and saw Amelia’s head move back, but it was too late—I saw her. Who knew who else could’ve been listening?
I groaned, marching up the last steps faster.
This was mortifying.
I needed to go back to my apartment and hide under my covers and just sleep.
Behind me, Luke was chuckling.
“Stop it.” I nudged his side. When I opened my door, he followed behind me.
“Admit it—they were good,” he said good-naturedly.
I scrunched up my nose. “They’re nosy.”
“But it worked,” he said against my skin as he kissed my neck, his voice teasing.
I moved back a little and turned my head to face him.
“Luke—back to the marrying part.”
“You seem to like that part a lot.”
Argh. “No. I need to clarify things with you.”
After he met my mom and we had that pleasant conversation with my dad, he should know by now that we were different.
“We're night and day, Luke. You piss me off on a daily basis, and once, you said I drive you crazy."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
What?
No, he didn't understand. “Luke, we can't even stay on the same radio channel.”
He didn't even blink. "We'll compromise.”
"And when that wears off?" I voiced what had been rolling around my head for a while. When he got sick of the banter, got sick of the whole chase, where did that leave us? “What, then?" I pressed.
He only smiled wider. "Then life will be a whole lot easier."
He was so easily knocking down my concerns, it was starting to piss me off. "I'm serious!"
"So am I,” he returned, no more trace of humor in his expression.
His eyes were drawn to something else behind me, and then I realized he was looking at the real-estate catalogue sitting on top of a tall cabinet.
"You're looking at houses. You're moving?" he asked, his expression unreadable. He flipped a page.
Shit.
I forgot to put it away. I'd left it there months ago, when I'd been flipping for potential candidates. It seemed like forever ago.
"Yeah.”
I waited for him to say something, but he didn't.
He continued flipping the pages.
"As I was saying, I’m not sure how this is going to work out.”
He didn’t look up from the catalogue. “What do you think of this? Two-storey, four bedrooms. Stunning view."
Was he even listening? “I don't need that much space. And it's too expensive."
"I'm the one buying."
"Oh." It only made me more confused. "Then why do you need my input? It's your house."
He shook his head. "Clueless," he muttered.
He was leaving, too?
Of course he wouldn’t stay here forever. I realized I’d gotten so used to him here that the thought of him leaving felt like a part of my world tilted on its axis.
I finally found my voice. “You’re moving too, huh?”
He abandoned the catalogue and moved towards me, but I couldn’t look at him.
I was afraid he’d see how much it affected me. Right here, standing in front of him I’d never felt more vulnerable.
“Sweetheart, I want one with you."
My heart stopped.
Was he saying…?
“We barely know each other,” I reminded him, starting to panic.
“I know enough about you.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” I don’t know how I was remaining so calm. Inside my head, I was freaking out.
“I know even though your parents hurt you, you provided for them."
I just did what I felt was right. “I couldn’t just leave them.”
“You don’t have the best relationship with them, but you try, and it fucking kills me, because they don’t deserve it.”
“Luke—”
“Your friends are loyal to you. And,” he released a curl of my hair that was nearly falling with the tip of his finger, letting it drop, “that speaks a lot more about you than you think.”
My pulse raced as I took in his words, along with the effect of his touch. He continued, “I know that even though you fail at something, you keep trying. Because you know that you could do good. Do better.”
I’d kept trying, because that was just me. I didn’t really know how to give up.
I put both hands on his shoulders, not knowing whether to pull him closer or push him away.
I remembered the way his aunt hinted that I’d jumped on the relationship so quickly, believing him.
I looked him in the eye. “I’m not easy.”
His head lowered, and his shoulders started to shake.
Was he laughing at me?
“Easy? You?” He threw his head back and let out a throaty laugh. “Asked you out three times before you said yes. The first you ignored, the second you argued about. The third didn’t happen.”
Then he continued, “I had to find out your name by taking your wallet.”
Okay, so maybe he was right. Just a little.
“You called me maybe a week after getting my number. Hell on a man’s ego, sweetheart.”
I was never easy to him.
It was slowly becoming clear that I wasn’t simply a challenge to him either—otherwise, he wouldn’t even be here.
Suddenly, I felt an urge to cry. “Stop it,” I warned him, but it didn’t hold much threat.
He smiled, and his head lowered, his lips warm on my neck, then on my throat, nipping on the tender skin.
My neck arched up, needing more.
“Never,” I heard him say.
He kissed me, and my arms came around his shoulders to his hair, the heat of his kiss stirring desire in me.
I surrendered to it.
He wasn’t perfect, but neither was I.
With whatever I was going through, he’d been with me through all of it. I knew he had my back when I needed it. Fighting this any more was only causing both of us pain. It was stupid. I was being stupid.
When we pulled apart, I looked up at him, unable to hold the words back. “I love you.”
We both froze the moment the words came out.
I’d told him what I felt about him before, numerous times. Mostly when he was pissing me off, so that wasn’t exactly a revelation.
I’d just done a complete one-eighty, and I was so screwed.
He was going to go away.
He was going to say something about how this was all some mistake, and maybe he could leave now.
Something about the love word tripped a lot of men up.
My cheeks heated, and I couldn’t take it anymore. “I mean to say—”
“I heard you just fine, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want you to think that you have to say anything back,” I amended, my words coming out in a rush. “I just… We can, um, take things slow.”
“Slow?” he repeated, like the word was foreign. He chuckled. “You do realize, in just a few months, slept together, fucked, and you’ve met half my family.”
Great
. He found it hilarious, while here I was, freaking out. I pulled away, and he let me go easily.
Because I realized he hadn’t said the words back, and I realized I was hoping that he would.
It was probably better if I got away now and saved myself from the embarrassment.
I was not going to cry.
Not. Going. To. Cry.
I moved away, picking up a jacket and keys, my hands shaking. Anywhere was better than here.
His arms went around me, pulling me back towards him.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low.
“Just… Maybe, um.” I stopped. I was starting to look like an idiot. An idiot who was trying not to cry. “Out. I need some air.”
He was quiet.
I tried to pull away, but this time, he didn’t let go. He turned me so that I was facing him.
“I love you,” he finally said.
My heart beat faster in my chest as his words sank in. “If you don’t know that by now, sweetheart, then I’m doing this all wrong.”
I blinked.
“Even though I burn the things I cook?” I murmured, swiping away a tear that slid down.
He let out a deep breath. “Even though.”
“Even though I’m mouthy?”
His eyes burned, hot. Then they slid down to my lips, a hint of a smile on his face. “I like your mouth.” His head dipped down and he traced my lips with his.
I let out a happy sigh.
“Just making sure,” I mumbled.
We drove each other crazy on a daily basis, and he didn’t care.
And he said he was going to marry me someday.
No one had ever made such a bold claim before. He was pretty good at getting what he wanted, but I could be equally stubborn.
He kissed me deep, until I was lost in it—in everything that was him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Six months later
Luke
“Are you sure?” my mom’s voice sounded strained. Because I knew her well, I knew she wasn’t happy.
I wasn’t inclined to make her happy.
I was done.
“Yes,” I replied, clipped.
“Is she really worth it?”
I was really fucking tired of it. I let out a breath, trying to be patient. “We’ve been through this conversation several times.”
“I’m trying to make sure you’ve made the right decision.”
