More Than Love You

by Shayla Black

  I stand my ground and grab her shoulders. “I have never met what’s-her-name in my life. I did not have sex with her. I did not get her pregnant. We were at the same party at the same time, following the Super Bowl. I admit that. Maybe she decided to use that happenstance to see if she could extort money from me. I wouldn’t be the first chump a gold digger tried to con. But I hope like hell you’d believe the word of the guy who’s been your lover over the woman you’ve never met.”

  She falls quiet for a long moment. “What do you want?”

  “Marry me.”

  “I’m not marrying anyone right now.”

  I try not to take it as a rejection. She’s endured a big shock today, and I’m probably leaning on her too hard. Yeah, she’s pushing back, but I expected that. I am talking to Harlow, after all. And after everything she’s been through lately, she’s entitled to lash out in pain. I’m hearty; I can take it. But the more I talk about tying the knot, the more convinced I am that we could be good together. I could make her happy. I could make her fall in love with me in return. In fact, I want that more than anything.

  But I need more time. A summer may not be enough.

  Trying to talk her into it for her benefit isn’t working, so I change tactics. “Look, I could really use a wife. The network is getting itchy, and if I ‘settle down,’ it’s more likely they won’t rescind their offer. It seems like a shame to work on my speech only to find out that I might not have a position with the network after all.”

  “Marry the woman who’s having your baby. That would solve your image problem.”

  God, this woman is stubborn as the day is long, and yet I still find her so damn fascinating. “She’s. Not. Having. My. Baby. Get that through your thick skull. Marry me.”

  “The press would almost certainly think that I left Simon for you because I was cheating on him.”

  “Do you care? He was cheating on you in a big way and everyone knows it.”

  She lets out a long sigh. “No. I don’t care about appearances. But you should.”

  “Why don’t we make a deal? You marry me for a year. I’ll give you a baby. On our first anniversary, we can reevaluate. If you want to stay, we’ll continue on as we were. If you want out then, I’ll give you five million dollars and custody, as long as I get visitation.”

  It’s a huge gamble, and I could end up the worst loser. But this buys me at least twelve months with Harlow, maybe even a lifetime. A child would guarantee that we’ll end up parenting together, so even if we divorce—over my cold, dead body—we’ll always have our son or daughter in common.

  Yeah, it sucks. I’m out of choices in my “better options” bucket.

  “I don’t want your money.”

  Another thing I like about her. She can be blunt and stubborn, sure. But she isn’t greedy. She’s so confident in her ability to make her own money that she doesn’t want mine. “It’s on the table if you change your mind.”

  She cocks a hand on her hip. “You could marry just about any woman you want. I have no illusions that I’m easy to deal with. Why me?”

  If I tell her that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her, she’ll run screaming in the opposite direction. I have to play this cool. “We make sense. We get along. We have great sex. We share common values. I want to get on with the next stage of my life. You can help me with my speech, and the press already thinks we’re an item. Introducing another woman now might send the network into a tizzy, not to mention my fans. Telling everyone that we’re getting married suddenly turns you from the sordid, under-the-blankets fling to a legitimate staple in my life.”

  “What’s in it for me, besides awesome sex? You can’t guarantee me a baby. Neither of us knows for certain I will—or can—get pregnant.”

  “Any reason to think you can’t?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I have this friend who’s been married for two years, and they’re trying so hard…to no avail. Just saying it’s not something we can predict.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll try the fertility bit. If it doesn’t work, I can still offer you some consolation: I know people in high places. I can open doors for you. Hell, I can introduce you to dozens of other players who probably need your help, too. If you want to jumpstart your career, I could do that for you in a major way.”

  She’s silent for a long moment, like she’s actually considering my impulsive proposal. But this is right. I’m sure. I know it in my bones. “Any catch?”

  I pause, consider. “Two conditions: First, you have to put your all into making us work while we’re together. No checking out because you think we’re temporary.”

  “I wouldn’t be a bitch for the sake of being a bitch. We’d both have to live with that, and it’s too much effort.”

  “Glad to hear it. Second, you have to sleep next to me every night. If I’m in this house, you’re in our bed.”

  She blinks, lips pressed into a firm line. I can tell she doesn’t like it. “Why?”

  “If you want to get pregnant, I have to touch you.”

  “So if I say yes to this ridiculous idea, I should be able to sleep in my own room once we get a plus sign on the pee stick.”

  I’m dying to know why she’s so insistent about sleeping alone. “Nope. We’ll have your health and the baby’s to think about. I’ll want to keep an eye on you both.”

  Harlow says nothing for interminable moments. Finally, she sighs and reaches for her makeup case just behind my feet. “I need to think.”

  When she turns with the case in her hand, I grip her arm to stay her. “For how long?”

  “Give me…a week. I’ll have an answer then.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A few days later, I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind before Saturday rolls around. Harlow has been quiet. Preoccupied. She won’t sleep next to or with me. I’m frustrated and jacked up as hell. It’s been a long week without her—without touching her, without drowning inside her. I’m losing my mind.

  Yesterday, we started another speech assessment—the most conversation we’ve had since I blurted that I want to marry her. This test is more physical and nonverbal than the previous ones. She stopped midway through to ask me questions about my proposal. Sharp, direct queries. I knew instantly she meant to ramp up my anxiousness to see how I’d perform. But when she hinted that she was leaning toward a no, I froze up and lost my shit. With a growl of frustration at this fucking unpredictable deficiency and her aloofness, I stomped out of the room.

  Harlow tracked me down an hour later pumping iron in the home gym with an apology and a confession that she hadn’t meant any of those less-than-subtle suggestions. The honest truth was, she’s still thinking and she feels terrible for using our relationship to try to put me on edge. When she kissed my cheek, I knew she meant it. I also know she understands how much I want her in my life.

  That woman having such a hold on my heart is unsettling, but I can’t change it.

  “Hey, Noah.” She strolls into my office the next evening all dolled up in a sundress, wedge sandals, lip gloss, and curls. She’s slung her purse over one shoulder.

  I remove my earbuds and pause the game commentary I’ve been studying. “What’s going on? Going somewhere?”

  She nods. “Keeley is picking me up for happy hour and a little karaoke. She’s convinced I need to get out. I think they just want to grill me about why I’ve been quiet lately.”

  I’d like to do the same, but I have to respect her space for another four days. Marriage—even for a year—is a big decision.

  “Be home for dinner?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on how crazy my sisters-in-law get. I’ll call you once I know.”

  I’d rather not eat alone and I don’t love the fact that she’s going to a bar while she looks so beautiful, but she’s an adult. And I just want to marry her, not control her. “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

  With a nod and an awkward pause, she’s gone. I miss the easy conversation we used to
share. I wonder if proposing was a colossal error on my part. I don’t regret it, exactly. But I wonder if, instead of moving us forward, she sees marriage as a threat to her independence or heart that is only setting us back.

  Sighing, I stand. I hate the not knowing, and I swear I’ll lose my mind before she puts me out of my misery—one way or the other.

  Once she’s gone, I prowl around the house. It feels huge and empty without her. It’s still too big for two people, but when Harlow is here, she’s humming as she cooks, shouting at the enemies on her video game as she’s playing, or blasting music as she lies by the pool. This place is full of life when she’s under my roof.

  If she goes, it will be empty as hell. I have no idea what I’ll do with this huge house. We haven’t been together even two weeks, but it feels as if she belongs here and I’ll be the interloper if I have to be here alone.

  I pace, trying to imagine another scenario. What will our house feel like if Harlow lives here as my wife, round with our baby? Instantly, I’m hard and aching and wishing she’d decided to stay in so I could remind her of some of the ways we’re best together. The last week without making love to her feels more like a year.

  I need to stop this train of thought or I’ll spend the entire evening in misery.

  Flipping on the game console, I launch myself into the Middle English-style adventure and am just completing a side quest when I hear the slam of a car door. Who got onto the estate and how? The only people who are approved are family—hers and mine. Trace is working today. My mother doesn’t like to drive the windy roads out to here. Harlow is with her sisters-in-law. By process of elimination, I’m not surprised when Maxon and Griff stroll into the family room through the open patio door.

  “Knock, knock.” Maxon raps his knuckles on the doorframe, then lounges against it negligently.

  “Hey. Come in.” I suck in a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. They know I’ve had issues, so it wouldn’t be a shock if I stopped talking, but without Harlow here to interpret and referee, this might get ugly.

  “Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Griff says. “But when our wives said they were going to take Harlow out and shamelessly grill her for information about you two, we thought we’d chat with you about a few things.”

  Meaning they want to shamelessly grill me for information, as well.

  “Sure.” This sounds like an opportunity for me to sputter and choke, but I plaster a smile on my face and pretend that it’s going to be great. “Beer?”

  “I’ll take one,” Griff calls as he sits on the sofa.

  “I guess I’ll take water. My brother manipulated me into being the DD.” When Griff flashes Maxon a grin, the older Reed grumbles. “Bastard.”

  After I get everyone situated, I turn the game and the TV off and sit in the chair opposite. “What’s up?”

  “We talked to Evan yesterday,” Maxon informs me. “Over the phone. His story checks out. I even got brave and called my mother to ask her for information. She confirmed some of the story, so I think he’s legit. We all agree to submit DNA swabs to be sure. The results should come back by the end of the week. But if he’s really our brother…I guess the family just got bigger.”

  “Great.” Why tell me?

  “Did Evan say anything else to you at the airport?” Maxon quizzes.

  “Just that his mom had been your dad’s assistant and that she died when he was five. Your dad wanted nothing to do with him, so he became a ward of the state. I’m guessing he grew up in the foster system.” I shrug. “That’s it.”

  “Google confirmed all that, too. But there’s more.”

  “Apparently, he’s the founder and CEO of one of the fastest-growing tech infrastructure businesses in the U.S. He’s worth billions.”

  “At twenty-five? Impressive.”

  “I don’t know a Reed who isn’t ambitious. It’s been bred into us all. We come out wanting to conquer the world,” Maxon says, and he’s only half joking.

  “Evan did say something about wanting to move himself and his operations to Hawaii. I’m surprised. This isn’t a high-tech Mecca. Then again, he mentioned wanting family.”

  “That he doesn’t know? It seems sudden,” Maxon mused. “But maybe it’s an orphan thing.”

  I frown. “When he approached me in the airport, he didn’t explain why.”

  “Until we figure it out, we’re approaching him cautiously. Clearly, he doesn’t want money from us, but he wants something. If he’s looking for close-knit camaraderie from the Reed clan, he’s going to be shit out of luck.”

  It’s probably none of my business, but if Harlow says yes to my proposal, I’ll be the man who stands up with and for her. I just hope by opening my mouth, I’m not sticking my foot in it. “Your sister certainly thinks so, guys. The fact that you knew about Evan and Bethany but didn’t tell her really upset her.”

  Maxon sits up straighter. “We just wanted to protect—”

  “I know. She even admitted that in your shoes, she might have done the same.” I feel my brain slowing. My jaw freezing. It’s suddenly fucking hot in here, and I feel sweat breaking out across my neck and chest. But I manage to get a few more words out. “She was pissed.”

  Griff sighs, then looks at his brother. “I told you…”

  “Fuck. Harlow is so independent. She used to be easygoing and rolled with the punches like a pro,” Maxon insists. “Something changed after she went to college.”

  “Yeah, she grew up and realized she had an identity of her own.” Griff shakes his head as if Maxon is an idiot.

  “Maybe.” The elder Reed doesn’t sound convinced. “So is that why she’s dodging my calls right now? She’s annoyed that we didn’t loop her in about Evan?”

  “Probably.” I refuse to candy-coat the truth. But I have to go for broke here. If I can bring Harlow back together with her brothers and enlist their help at once, I’d score big. Besides, they’re going to find out sooner or later. But to have this conversation I have to talk.

  I drag in a steadying breath, wait a few moments, hoping my state will improve.

  The brothers exchange a glance.

  “It’s cool, man. We’re not mad,” Maxon assures. “You’re just being honest. Relax.”

  Griff nods. “Exactly. We did this to ourselves. I can’t blame you at all. Just say what’s on your mind when you’re ready.”

  Eyes closed, I nod and feel myself slowly let go of the stress. Finally, I feel everything that tensed up release.

  “I asked your sister to marry me.”

  The silence that follows is deafening. Neither Reed brother moves or blinks, just stares at me. Do they want to beat the shit out of me or just think I’m certifiably insane?

  Finally, Maxon rakes a hand over the top of his short, spiked hair. “I’d say you’re fucking kidding us…but I can see you’re not.”

  I shake my head.

  “She said no.” Griff sounds as if he’s sure of that.

  With a jerk of my head, I refute him. “She’s said she’ll give me an answer this weekend.”

  Another exchanged glance. Now they look impressed.

  I don’t mention how badly she wants a baby. If I do, one—or both—of them may plant their fist in my face.

  “I’m shocked she didn’t give you a full-out fuck no,” Maxon admits. “Especially after Mercedes Fleet cropped up.”

  “I don’t know that woman,” I insist. “I didn’t fuck her. I’ve never even met her.”

  Neither brother says a word. No idea if they’re convinced. I don’t have proof, just the truth.

  “So why do you want to marry Harlow? As a shield from the press?”

  “Hell no.” Don’t they get it?

  “Well, it’s not for the speech therapy. You can get more experienced help with that anywhere.” Griff sips his beer. “So why?”

  “Keeping it real? I’ve never been in love, but I’m pretty sure I am now. That notion scares the shit out of your sister. Why? And why doesn’
t she believe in love? Your wives both suggested I look at her relationship with your parents.”

  Neither brother seems to want to look at me for a long moment, then Griff sighs. “Probably a good place to start.”

  Maxon turns a shade of dull red. “Yeah.”

  Like talking to their sister, there’s a wealth of information in what Maxon and Griff aren’t saying. I wonder what they’ve endured with their parents.

  “Maybe I should meet them.”

  Both brothers look at me in horror. “No!”

  “Why would you want to do that?” Maxon spits.

  “It’s insane,” Griff confirms. “And they’ll just spend time figuring out how they can use you to their advantage. Trust me, if they did something to Harlow, they’ll never own up to it, much less apologize.”

  There’s a family history here I don’t understand. Maybe I never will. But they’re the experts.

  I shrug. “I have to try something. Talking to Harlow can be like talking to a wall.”

  “Another Reed family trait,” Griff quips.

  Maxon nods. “I keep coming back to that first year of college. I noticed it that Christmas when I flew home for the holidays. Have you asked her about that time of her life?”

  “No. I can try.” But she’s not speaking to me a lot right now, and if I interrogate her too much before she answers my proposal, I’m pretty certain her maybe will become a quick no.

  “Don’t. Let me get the girls to see what they can pry out of her. More soon.” Maxon claps me on the back, then texts Keeley.

  Griff sends off a quick message to Britta and quickly gets a reply. “They’re on it.”

  It strikes me then that her brothers are actually on my side. “Thanks. You want Harlow to marry me?”

  Neither says anything for a long moment. Finally Griff breaks the silence. “We want Harlow happy. As soon as I met Simon Butler, I knew he wasn’t going to do the job.”

  Maxon nods. “He’s too much like Dad in all the worst ways.”

  “But I think maybe you can make her happy,” Griff says. “I’ve seen Harlow with boyfriends and lovers over the years. I’ve never seen her quite as in tune with one as she seems to be with you. There’s something between you two. And frankly, if she didn’t feel something for you, she would have given zero fucks about Mercedes Fleet and told you to shove your marriage proposal on the spot.”