by S. L. Naeole
“Where are we?” I asked again as he dragged me into a kitchen built for any chef, with a twelve-burner gas stove and a stainless steel hood rising above it, massive double wall ovens, and two stainless steel doors that could only open to a fridge and freezer each. Granite counters the color of white smoke covered everything, while white cabinets flanked the entire kitchen. The floors were gray wood, and the island that sat in the middle was long and wide. A deep farmhouse sink sat in the island that was painted a soft teal color, contrasting gorgeously with the white surrounding it.
Not answering me, Mal tugged me through a wide opening into a great room with a central fireplace that made the giant room feel smaller, homey. Floor to ceiling windows bracketed the fireplace while the gray floor from the kitchen carried through into the room. Not stopping, Mal continued to pull me toward a beautiful curved staircase. The banister was painted white, as were the spindles for the rail. The steps themselves were padded with lush gray carpeting that felt like clouds beneath my feet.
“Mal,” I said again, but he kept tugging me behind him. Upstairs were rooms galore, but I didn’t get a chance to see any of them. Instead, I followed Mal through a pair of double doors and into what I knew was the home’s master bedroom. It was spacious and inviting, with the same thick carpeting and a beautiful view of a swimming pool below and a massive expanse of grass and trees beyond.
“What do you think?” he asked excitedly as he finally let go of my hand.
I took another quick glance around the room, noting the crown molding and the French doors that led to an opulent bathroom. “It’s beautiful. But why are we here?”
Before I could register what he was doing, Mal was on his knees in front of me, and for the umpteenth time that day, he stole my breath away.
“Victoria, I don’t make impetuous decisions. It’s not in my nature to do so. I’ve always planned things out, taken control of everything, handled everything. I like order. I like control. But from the moment you spoke to me, everything’s gone upside down. You keep throwing me off, keep changing the rules, keep…handling things. And I’ve never been happier in my life. Never been more content. Never felt more fulfilled.
“I told you, some people know from the moment they touch someone that they’re the one. I knew it that day, with you all bloody and delirious and humming Village People songs that you were the one. I know it sounds crazy. Insane. Absofuckinglutely bonkers. But every single day with you since, every moment, every goddamn minute has only confirmed what my heart already knew was true.
“So I started doing things. Impulsive things. Things like meeting you for lunch when I should have been flying back to California for a meeting. Things like taking you out to dinner when I should have been walking away. Things like kissing you in my car and practically moving into your tiny bedroom just so I can be close to you.
“Like seeing this house and realizing that you would love it, and then buying it because I see you in it, see you painting in it, see me making love to you in it, see us raising our children in it.”
“Mal,” I whispered, my hands shaking at my sides as his words formed visions in my head. Visions that filled me with a longing for all of them.
“You ask me where we are, Baby, and I’ll tell you that we’re in the future. This house, this place, this is our future, the future I see for you and me. Maybe not now, but whether it’s tomorrow or two years from now, this place is ours. It’s for us, for you and me and whatever kids we plan on having.
“Because Victoria, I’m crazy in love with you, more than you could possibly know, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up every morning with you trapped beneath my leg and snuggled up against my chest. I want to go to bed with your taste on my tongue and your breath hot against my neck. I want to shower with you every day and take bubble baths with you every night. I want to cook you dinners and watch stupid movies with you. I want to fold laundry with you and just…just be with you because I love you so much and every day without you feels like a thousand.
“Marry me, Victoria. Marry me. Say yes and make this future a reality.”
And from his pants pocket—the same pants that I undid so that I could suck his cock on the way here—he pulled out a small box. He flipped the lid back and revealed a delicate ring, the diamond square and sparkling like a trapped star. I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking as he took my left hand and slid the ring on my fourth finger.
It fit. Perfectly.
My eyes darted between the ring and him, between crystalline sparkles and mossy depths. The cool metal warmed up almost immediately against my skin, reflective of so many things.
“I thought we were supposed to eat lunch,” I joked nervously.
He smiled broadly, his eyes glittering with anticipation. “I have a picnic outside on the terrace. I was going to wait until after we’d eaten but I couldn’t. I needed to ask you, needed to hear you say yes.”
“I…I want to,” I admitted. “But, I mean...this is all moving so fast. We’ve only known each other a few months and I’ve never even met your family—”
He shook his head. “Parents dead—dad from lung cancer and mom from botched plastic surgery. My baby sister, Hannah—dead.”
At that last bit, my heart stuttered and my breath lodged in my throat. His eyes turned down and an answer to an unasked question fell past his lips. “She died when she was eleven from acute lymphocytic leukemia. Hannah on Twentieth is named after her. She died on the twentieth of October at ten-twenty. It was her favorite number. All the net profits from the restaurant go to the Ronald McDonald’s house and the St. Jude hospital.”
I suddenly developed a whole new understanding of his concern for Ralph’s wife Hannah and my heart swelled at the knowledge of this man’s pain, his loss, and his desire for a family. But… “I’m sorry, Mal. I’m sorry about your family. Thank you for telling me about them, but...I’m not ready.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, and he didn’t hide the hurt on his face as he stood, pocketing the box but leaving the ring on my finger. “I understand. You’re right; this is all moving very fast for you.”
Nodding, I thumbed the ring’s band, adjusting it between my fingers so that the stone pointed straight up. It wasn’t a large stone, but I knew that it was probably the most perfect stone he could buy. Flawless, like his love for me. “It is.”
His hand moved to cover mine, my fingers curling into my palm as he held it firmly. “Then you take all the time you need.”
My head tilted up to look up at him, my heart twisting a bit knowing that I’d done something that hurt him. “Really?”
“Yes,” he replied as he swept my hair over my shoulder and then rubbed his thumb over my neck and pulse. “I told you, I can wait. I know you love me. I know that what we have isn’t a fluke. As long as you know right now that this is how I feel. As long as you know that who I am, what I am, is all for you and I’m not running away. I already know that you’re my future, sweetheart. I can wait until you’re ready to accept that I’m your future, too.”
His tone was reassuring, filled with hope and promise despite the look of pain that only enhanced the beauty in his face. “I just need time, Mal.”
He kissed me, a sweet, tender press of his lips to mine. “Take all the time you need. This house is ours, whether you said yes today or a year from now. And I’m yours, whether you say yes now or never.”
“I love this house,” I confessed, my eyes glancing around the bedroom once more. “I really do. And the fact that you can see us here, together, makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I want to see those things here, too. I want to do those things with you. When it’s time.”
He smiled, a soft, sad smile that said more than any other expression or even with words just how hurt he was that I wasn’t giving him what he wanted, that I hadn’t envisioned the same future with him as he had with me. “I’m happy to wait, love.”
It was the first lie he’d
ever told me.
And it hurt. Dear God, did it hurt.
But there was a reason for it and I knew what that reason was. I only wished that I wasn’t it.
Lunch was quiet, and I didn’t taste any of the steak and scampi that sat on my plate. I did drink the entire bottle of wine, though, and tried to picture my life here in this huge house with Mal as I sipped from my glass. He wanted children—that had been clear the minute we confronted the consequences of having unprotected sex. Truth was, I never saw myself having them. I never saw myself being with anyone to even consider it.
But he saw children here. He saw them playing in the pool and running up and down the grass, perhaps playing on swings. He saw us hosting parties and sitting in front of the fire snuggling. He saw us raising a family, having friends over, being together for the rest of our lives. A part of me saw that, too.
But what kind of wife would I be to a man whose entire life seemed to unfold on the covers of tabloid magazines? What kind of wife would I be to a man who didn’t even understand what it meant to struggle the way I had? What kind of wife would I be when he rushed forward head first, charged at a problem and handled it, while I ran toward the safety of the dark?
And what kind of mother would I be to his children? I’d nixed the idea of having a pet because I couldn’t handle the idea of it getting hurt, of the vulnerabilities it faced that I couldn’t protect it from. How would I handle that with children? I was barely emotionally stable enough to deal with Mal, and right then and there I wasn’t even doing that.
Because as I took another sip I knew that the wine was just another way for me to run away. Mal had already stood up and was walking around the pool, his gaze turned toward the tree line and the late afternoon sun. He knew that I was avoiding him in my own way, hiding from him and the topic of our future together.
I wanted him. I wanted to be with him for as long as humanly possible. If that meant forever, then I’d take it. But in marriage? In a committed relationship that denied me the chance to turn around and escape when I needed to? Marriage to him meant I’d have to stick around. Marriage meant I’d have to face everything head-on, and I wasn’t ready for that. I could barely confront my own reflection.
And yet, the idea of waking up to him every morning just as he described appealed to me in ways I never thought possible. It made me yearn for it, for that comfort and security that I’d only ever felt in his arms, trapped in his gaze.
Plus, I felt the same way he did. A day away from him was agonizing. His voice was a soothing, rich song in my head. His touch was ever present, carrying with it so much emotion, so much promise, that I knew what he wanted, what he felt with just the gentle graze of his finger. Was that because of the connection we shared? Was it like that with every couple?
I watched as Mal paced, his back to me, his hands shoved into his pockets. I could see movement in his pocket and knew that he was fumbling with the box the ring came in. My eyes lowered to the brilliant gem that sat on my finger and saw the colors bend and shift in the blurriness that formed as my vision brimmed full of tears.
Dashing them away with a quick swipe of my hand, I finished the last dregs of wine in my glass and sighed. I was fucking things up, but I couldn’t not do it. I wasn’t going to rush into anything this important. Our relationship had already moved a lot faster and farther than I’d ever anticipated, and the consequences had already reared its ugly head more than once. I needed to be thoughtful, patient, and so did he.
I smirked.
He hated being denied control, and I’d taken that away from him yet again by not telling him yes. His stiffness, his hurt was from me “handling” things. But he’d agreed to wait for me, mostly because he loved me, but also because despite his annoyance, he also loved the fact that I didn’t do what he wanted, didn’t let him control every aspect of our relationship even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to.
This house proved it.
This ring proved it.
So what if I loved the house—and holy fuck, did I love this house!
And so what if I loved the ring—because sweet baby Van Halen, was this ring a fucking beauty!
I was still in charge of me. I’d been in charge of me for a long time. He knew that. He respected that.
God, I loved him so much.
Which was why it hurt to tell him no. Or, at least no to an immediate answer.
Who am I trying to convince, him or me?
“Are you ready to head back to the city?”
I looked up and saw Mal standing before me. His face was still marked with sadness, but he had forced a smile on his lips that tore at me. I stood, my legs shaky from the wine. “I’m ready whenever you are,” I told him honestly.
He took my hand and I followed him through the French doors that led back into the great room. He didn’t bother closing the doors behind him, or even to clean up. Instead, we moved toward the kitchen and then the garage. I climbed into the passenger seat as he held the door open, and for the next forty minutes sat quietly while we drove back to his apartment.
That night, he held me close to him but made no attempt to make love to me. He’d kissed me chastely, almost brotherly, before tucking my head beneath his chin and resting his hand on my hip, his other arm beneath my pillow. I waited until his breathing steadied and I knew he was asleep before I eased myself away from him and dug into my bag for my phone.
There were several messages from Del, as well as a few unknowns with random numbers and words. But the ones I wanted to see were there, my friends all asking how my weekend was going. I replied in a group message.
Me: He bought us a house.
Vonne: He what?
Kara: Holy shit! Roy says holy shit too!
Holly: Lyle told me! How exciting!
Me: He also proposed.
Vonne: And?!?!?!
Lara: Did you say yes??!!
Kara: Bitch, you better not have your wedding before me!
Holly: How big is the diamond?
Me: I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no either. I told him I needed some time. This is moving way too fast.
Holly: How did he take it?
Vonne: If you think it is then you need to slow down. You don’t want to rush into such a huge life-changing decision.
Kara: I wasn’t serious about not having the wedding before me! Marry him, Ria! He’s your soulmate!
Lara: What’s too fast? Kara and Roy were fucking before they started dating. Compared to her you’ve had a yearlong courtship!
Kara: You’re lucky I’m at Roy’s right now or else I’d totally kick your ass for that, Lara!
Me: I think I screwed up, guys. He said he’d wait, that he didn’t mind waiting, but he was so distant tonight, and he didn’t even try to make love to me once since coming back.
Lara: Holy fuckballs! You guys finally did it?
Kara: Mother Mary Tyler Moore, she finally had someone punch her V-card!
Holly: I’m so glad you finally gave someone a slice of your cherry pie, Ria!
Vonne: Was it worth the wait?
The subject change made me smile, and I couldn’t help but nod at my phone.
Me: Definitely worth the wait.
Vonne: No panic attacks?
Me: None. He was very considerate and knew just what to do to keep me from panicking.
Holly: They don’t call him the pussy collector for nothing. He knows what he’s doing.
I grimaced at the reminder that to everyone else, Mal was still a womanizing playboy with a list of conquests longer than the phonebook. They didn’t know that he’d been just as much a virgin as I was and they never would. That secret was Mal’s. But it still hurt to hear the lies.
Me: Can we never call him that ever again? The man did just propose to me.
Kara: And bought you a house.
Lara: Is it a big house? Can we all move in and live like billionaires?
Me: It’s a huge house. Tudor. With a massive po
ol and a garage bigger than our apartment.
Vonne: I’m taking your room when you move out.
Holly: Are you still going to move into the house?
Me: I’m not moving anytime soon. I can’t. Not with the lawsuit still hanging over my head.
Holly: All you’d have to do is ask Mal to help you and he’d pay that thing off in a heartbeat. You know that.
Kara: Have you even told him about everything?
Lara: Does he know about the lawsuit?
Me: Yes he knows but I’m not going to have him take care of my problems. I’m not going to use him for his money.
Vonne: But that wouldn’t be using him. He wants to marry you, hun. That means he wants to help you. You not letting him do that for you out of pride or whatever reason you’re conjuring up is only going to drive a wedge between you two
I frowned, my fingers moving furiously across the screen.
Me: And $250k wouldn’t? That’s not chump change.
Holly: Lyle told me that house cost over 3 mil. Do you really think $250k would matter to him?
Me: That’s not the point. And holy shit. $3 mil?
Kara: If he’s feeling generous the Monique Lhuillier gown I want costs $18k
Lara: Is the reason you’re not saying yes to marrying him because of the money? Because if it is then that’s pretty stupid, Ria. If he wants to marry you despite you not being some super-rich heiress then I think you can get past whatever hang-up you’ve got about him being a mega hot billionaire.
