How to Deal

by Shey Stahl

  He didn’t know? So he acknowledges she’s real? For a moment I hoped this was all some kind of sick joke. Apparently not. “Yeah, well, she did.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I don’t care,” I shout, cutting him off and then press the End button, hanging up on him. “Don’t you dare answer my phone again.”

  Zane’s eyes widen, and he nods. “My bad.”

  No, my bad. For believing good straight guys actually exist in life.

  Five days.

  Five days of calls.

  Five days of meeting Selma in the hallway while she lives at his apartment.

  Five days of crying with Oliver in my arms.

  And finally, on Saturday at four in the morning, there’s a knock on my door. Actually, it’s more of a pounding.

  I know exactly who it is, and I don’t answer it. I don’t want to hear his lame excuse as to why he didn’t feel the need to tell me he was engaged to be married.

  “Open the goddamn door, Amalie!” Tathan shouts, slamming his hand on the door. And then I hear him talking to someone, actually yelling at someone.

  Peeking through the peephole, I see him standing there, looking like hot hell, and his hand wrapped around Selma’s upper arm, scowling at her.

  “Why’d you fucking show up here and make her believe we’re still together?”

  Holding my breath until I feel like my lungs are going to burst, I stand on wobbly legs waiting for her answer.

  Selma stutters, probably tired. “Jesus, Tathan. I didn’t know you’d moved on so quickly.” It looks like he ripped her straight from bed, wearing his clothes.

  His scowl deepens. “So quickly? We’ve been broken up for over a year. Remember? I caught you in bed with another guy.”

  Selma rips her arm from his grasp. “It was an accident.”

  “Whatever it was. . . it meant we were over.”

  My heart leaps in my chest. It was over between them? So. . . he didn’t lie?

  I rip the door open. “What do you want?”

  Tathan’s eyes snap to mine, fire flaring in them. “Five days. I’ve been calling you nonstop for five fucking days.” He smacks his hand at Selma, knocking her shoulder lightly. “She is not my fiancée. She’s a lying whore who slept with my friend. In. My. Bed.”

  I glare at Selma but say nothing. I want to punch her in the face. How dare she hurt him and lie to me. But then again, when my eyes meet the tired man beside her, why’d I believe her so easily and not the one who’d made me a deal to fall in love with him?

  There’s a water trickling sound, like, well, pee. In shock, Selma looks down at her feet. “Oh my God! Your stupid dog peed on me.”

  No one calls Oliver stupid!

  “He doesn’t like women.”

  “You’re a woman,” Selma points out, looking like she’s going to vomit.

  “I’m his mom.”

  And get this, when Oliver spots Tathan, he wiggles and rubs up against his legs. Traitor.

  Reaching down to ruffle his floppy ears, Tathan smiles at him.

  Selma huffs out a breath and stomps back to Tathan’s apartment.

  “You have five minutes to get the fuck out of there,” Tathan tells her over his shoulder. With a gentle push, he shoves me back in my apartment and locks the door behind him. “We need to talk, and you’re not ignoring me this time.”

  Defiantly, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t have to do what you say.”

  “Yes, you do. You fucking drove me crazy this week. I. . . .” He pauses, dropping his bags at my feet. Goddamn, angry Tathan is just. . . fuck. I have no words. But he does and continues with, “You have no idea.”

  “You have no idea.” I can be such a brat sometimes.

  “Whatever you say.” He laughs, sarcasm lacing the sound of bitterness. With his eyes on mine, he backs me against the wall. I don’t know where Oliver disappeared to, but I’m trapped in Tathan’s steal embrace. “I love you.” He blurts it out. Just like that. No messing around. “I need you. Not to survive, but to make my life worth living. I’m not letting a misunderstanding destroy that.”

  Goddamn him. “I don’t even know if I like you.” God, I’m a horrible liar.

  He dips his head, catching my eyes and then let’s go of my wrists he had pinned to the wall. Framing my face, he kisses me. Just a quick one, then pulls away. “Bullshit. Yes, you do. I know you’re scared. You’re afraid of the realness of this. You’re scared you won’t be able to walk away from me.”

  This motherfucker is too smart for his own good. “I uh. . . .” I can’t form words. Instead, my lips find his, and I show him how right he actually is.

  But then I pull back, just like he had. My mind twists and tumbles over everything I want to say to him. “I have some things I need to say to you. . . and it’s really important that you listen to me.”

  He nods slowly, his expression completely unreadable.

  Taking a deep breath, I decide not to wait any longer and spill everything I wanted to say over the past couple weeks and had forgotten in the five days of hell. “After Colton, I told myself I wouldn’t depend on a man ever again. I wouldn’t let one in. I thought I understood how love worked, too. To really love someone, the way you need to, there’s a certain amount of dependence there. Dependence I wasn’t going to give anyone because I was scared I wouldn’t be able to walk away.”

  “Like I said.”

  “Let me finish,” I say, slapping at him.

  Tathan crosses his arms over his chest, leaning away from me and against the wall behind him. Fuck, there he goes again leaning. “Fine. Finish.”

  “Well,” I smile. “I actually was done.”

  A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. Even if he rejects me now—which he won’t because he said he loved me already—at least he knows how I really feel about him, even if I hadn’t told him I loved him.

  When I raise my eyes to his, part of me is surprised to see him smiling. But there’s a certain sadness to his eyes. I remember it from before. That night he took me up to Camelback Mountain to watch the sunset and briefly mentioned being engaged at one time. That sadness, it’s still there. A sadness he isn’t sure he can let go of. A hole he never mended.

  I never realized it, until now, with that sadness lying under the surface of his expression that we’d both been hurt by love.

  “The way I love you is fucking consuming,” Tathan says, laughing under his breath. He stares at me. “I probably shot the worst photographs of my life this week.”

  “You terrify me,” I admit. “You fucking terrified me.”

  His arms wrap around me, drawing me into his chest. “I know,” he agrees, turning his head into my hair, then sighs. Tathan breaths out a long breath in my ear. “Look at me, Amalie,” he says, his voice cracking. I can’t though. I try, again, and still can’t. I’ll cry if I do and I cried enough this week. I don’t want to do it anymore. “Please. . . just look at me.”

  Tensing and squeezing my eyes shut, I pull back and look up at him.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you by not telling you about her.” He’s speaking softly, trying to make me see. “It took me months to get her out of my head, and I still haven’t. I don’t love her, but you know as well as I do, being hurt like that doesn’t go away. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to go back to that time in my life, if that makes sense.” He swallows, drawing in a deep breath. “Do you know how hard it was to stay in Santa Monica this week with you ignoring me?”

  I nod, as though I had expected his response, because I did. My hand moved to his jawline, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry I ignored you.”

  Tathan opens his mouth several times to speak and then finally asks, “Do you trust me?”

  “Should I trust you?” I ask, and he arches an eyebrow in surprise, making me look in his eyes, hating the heartache at the expression on his face. “My gut tells me I should.”

  “Then tell me you love me. Tell me you want this as much as
I do.” There’s an easiness about Tathan I adore. A softness I’ve never experienced before him. It’s something I missed this week, and now he’s here, his gentleness is calming.

  I want to let the words fall out, so natural, so true they have depths and valleys I can barely understand. I can, however, understand three very simple ones. The ones he’s looking for.

  Reluctantly, my eyes lock on his. “I love you,” I tell him, moving toward him again.

  With a jerked motion, his fingers dive into my hair, and he inhales deeply. It’s everything I’d been waiting for since he left on Sunday.

  Our lips part and he slides one hand around my waist, pressing me flush against his chest.

  Tathan is all for the kissing. In fact, he practically attacks me. His tongue excitedly explores my mouth. It’s the kind of kissing I feel deep in my bones like a shockwave.

  Needing to breathe, we part, gasping, and stare at each other. “Jesus,” he murmurs, running his nose along my jaw, attempting to catch his breath. A slight smirk touches his lips, and his eyes blaze with desire. “I missed you.”

  His lips find mine again, my eyes fluttering closed. I fight back a shiver, wanting to melt into him. As he fists my hair in his hands, his groans get lost against my lips.

  That kiss is much like that first kiss in the hallway we shared months ago. It’s promising, and then it turns into something else entirely. Impatience.

  He glides his lips over mine, firm and demanding, making a groaning sound low in his throat. He tastes so goddamn good.

  Our kisses slow, and our breaths give our intentions away. His hands travel over my curves, taking their time before he finds my face again, sweeping my hair from my cheeks.

  His touch is heavy and deliberate, his kisses the same. “How about I show you how much I missed you. In a bed.”

  I giggle. “By all means, show me.”

  His hands palm my breasts hastily. “Is this okay?”

  “It’s more than okay,” I moan in response, drawing myself closer, letting him know it definitely is more than okay. It’s perfect. I never want him to stop.

  He wants this, and I need this.

  His fingers tangle in my hair once again, tipping my head back to expose my skin for him, feeling my racing pulse under his tongue. His stubble scratches my tender flesh, leaving shivers in its path. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his rich scent.

  There’s no hesitation, only surrendering. Slipping my hand inside his shorts, his breath hitches against my cheek. His stance changes, his body hunching toward mine when my hand wraps around his cock.

  I’m drowning in him, his scent, his kisses, his touch.

  The desperation in his touch takes over, and he struggles to get closer. I need that, too.

  Standing in the middle of my living room now, half-naked, it’s hard to get the right angles.

  I tighten my grip on his cock. “Let’s go to my room.” I moan when his teeth drag over my breasts as he yanks my shirt down to reveal my bare skin.

  We make our way to my room and to the bed where he lays me out before him. We glide together, his large hands snaking around my back, his mouth eagerly seeking out mine once again.

  When his kisses ease, his hands work over me. Gently, they outline my breasts, each one, cupping them with just the right amount of force. His eyes close, his need growing stronger when his hips meet mine—just slightly—but enough.

  Easing my bra aside, his hands slide lower, resting on my hips, and then hooks them around the edges of my panties. Each fingertip grazes my hip with just the slightest touch and then some pressure. He bends down, his lips brushing my right breast and then my nipple, giving me a dawdling, deliberate kiss. I love nipple kisses and the goose bumps that follow.

  I watch his every move, my fingers finding their way to his hair.

  Carefully, his hands travel south, skimming the length of my body. It’s when his touch finds my clit that my lashes flutter.

  The low gravel of his voice brings me back. “How much have you missed me?” His eyes hold mine, waiting for my answer.

  “Just a little bit,” I tease.

  Once he has my panties off, his hands explore my thighs and then back to my hips, and then he’s moving back up my body, to my lips, reclaiming what’s his.

  A lurch of excitement moves through me, knowing where this is heading and the idea of his eagerness for it thrills me even more. He’s not in his apartment with Selma. He’s here, with me. And he loves me.

  His kisses are tender. . . and it’s then I realize this is completely different from any other time we’ve been together. He’s making love to me. Giving me a piece of himself.

  He sits up, pulling his shorts down and then kicks them aside before returning to the bed. My hands immediately move to his cock, wanting that hardness where I so desperately need it. Between my legs.

  Holding himself above me on shaking arms, Tathan’s breath washes over my shoulder, my name on his lips. My lashes lower and I arch my neck, giving him more of my skin, more of me in any way.

  His hips buck, gliding his fullness between my hands. My other hand grips his arm. His head bends forward so all I could see is the sharply defined edges of his shoulders.

  Between my legs, his hand finds my center and his fingers gently prod, waiting for me to look at him. “Are you ready for me?”

  I stare into warm caramel eyes and nod.

  “Say it.”

  “I’m ready.” I lift my hips.

  “No. . . that’s not what I want to hear.” He kisses me, and then draws back.

  “Make love to me.”

  Reaching between us, he moves my legs farther apart, watching my face the entire time. Shuddering at the long-awaited touch, I relax at the sensation of him filling me. He doesn’t use protection since I’m on birth control.

  Poor Tathan. He wants to go slow, make love to me like I asked, but those first few moments after he enters me are nothing like that.

  “Jesus Christ,” he moans. His head drops to my shoulder. He pushes forward, his hips shuddering as he does so. “It’s been so fucking long. So long. . . .”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  “I missed you,” he says, grunting with each movement. “I missed you so fucking much.” His hands curl around my shoulders, yanking me into his movements.

  Caressing the length of his back, outlining the tautness of his muscles, his body tenses at my touch.

  Pressure builds, goose bumps shiver across my skin, and soon my head falls back, his lips against my skin, his warm breath panting against my neck. The scorching heat of his kiss weakens me.

  My fingers dig into his shoulders, my orgasm rushing through me.

  And he comes with me, unable to stop himself, his body jerking with his release, his head buried in my shoulder.

  “Tathan?” I breathe, kissing his neck.

  “Kiss me,” he whispers, long lashes lowering, gasping for breath as his body continues to shake. “Kiss me. . . Amalie.”

  I do.

  Before I met Tathan, and even after, I had a weakness, a struggle inside of me to find love again and let it find me. And then Tathan came into my life and offered me his heart. He asked for my vulnerability and I surrendered willingly.

  Handling me with care as my breathing relaxes, he blows a long breath out and eases his body from mine.

  Exhaling deeply, Tathan slides to the side and draws me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing my face to lie on his chest. Just like the morning he left.

  A smile spreads across his face. “I have another deal for you.”

  I laugh. “I think. . . okay, what is it?”

  “I bet I can get you to marry me.”

  You knew he was going there, didn’t you?

  Tathan doesn’t see it coming when I reach for his hand. “Vegas is a five-hour drive. If we leave now, we can be husband and wife by noon.”

  He takes my hand. “That’s how you deal.”

 
What was I thinking?

  “Vegas is a five-hour drive. If we leave now, we can be husband and wife by noon.”

  Clearly, I wasn’t, was I?

  “Muff, if you’re chickening out, I’ll totally take your place.” Adjusting his tie, Zane checks himself out in the mirror beside Casey.

  Oh, yeah. Why are they here? You better believe I brought my crew with me. No way could I do this without them. We even brought Oliver because I couldn’t leave him with Jade again because she was having a “get together.” Don’t ask. I didn’t.

  By the way, Oliver’s the ring barrier. Let’s pray he doesn’t eat it because if you see the way he’s eyeing the collar with the ring on it, he’s contemplating chewing it off. I know my puppy.

  Anyway, there we all are in a tiny dressing room that feels like it’s closing in on me. I’m in a white dress that’s not mine. It’s Casey’s and surprisingly, fits me.

  My armpits are sweating so bad and in my mad rush out the door this morning, I forgot to pack my deodorant.

  “What’s taking so long?” Bryan asks, peeking his head inside the dressing room of the Little Vegas Chapel. “Tathan looks nervous.”

  Yep. Our Elvis love affair resulted in a shotgun wedding Elvis Presley style.

  Wait. Did I hear that right? Tathan’s nervous?

  What if he doesn’t want to marry me? It’s all too soon, isn’t it? Who gets married after only a few months of dating? Those weddings never last, do they? The Bachelor is proof. Most of those couples break up before the damn show airs.

  “Don’t do this!” Casey says in between my deep panicky breaths I gulp in, grabbing my face between her palms.

  “You’re right. This is crazy. I don’t even know him.”

  Her brow pulls together. She’s mad at me. “That’s not what I mean.” She squeezes my cheeks a little more, tightening her hold on me. “I’m talk about you. Don’t go to that place in your head where you think you don’t deserve to be happy. You’re freaking out for no reason. Tathan love you.”