The Stubborn Love Series: Books 1-5 Contemporary Romance Series

by Wendy Owens

  The pastor calls out to the crowd, as a formality, “If anyone has any reason why this couple should not be joined in matrimony, let them speak now.” Soon, Henry will kiss me, and I will be his bride.

  “I do,” a voice calls out powerfully from the audience. My breath catches in my throat as I spin wildly to find Christian peering back at us. The crowd erupts into whispering assumptions. “She can’t marry him because she still loves me!” he shouts.

  My head is swimming, and I think I might vomit. I look back at Henry whose eyes are no longer filled with joy. Now I see pain staring back at me. My heart aches—this can’t be happening. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The organ begins playing an ominous pitch, and I gasp as I wake up.

  I am drenched in sweat. My heart is racing. I look next to me. Henry sleeps soundly. “It was a dream, just a dream,” I tell myself.

  Chapter Two

  I WAKE UP, reach out, and run my hand across the sheets next to me to find they’re cool to the touch. Like usual, Henry has gotten up long before me. During the early dating phase of our relationship, I never realized this about him. Usually when I would wake up, I’d find his eyes peering down at me. This made me uncomfortable the first few times I caught him doing it, but by the third or fourth time, something about it became almost comforting.

  Once we moved in together, this habit slowly changed, and I began to see the Henry that is restless. Where I will, without much thought, sleep ‘til noon on a Saturday morning, Henry can’t sleep in, no matter how late he is up the night before. While I miss his warm body next to me in the morning, I can’t complain, because he is always ninja-like in his exiting skills, allowing me to rest as long as my heart desires.

  I sit up and reach for my robe, smiling as I think about Henry. When I first moved in, he never realized why I always wore his t-shirts to bed. I’ve always lived like a college student. I don’t waste money on sexy pajamas, oh no, my funds are reserved for real clothes or going out. Once I moved in, my nighttime wardrobe became evident to him. He could see I was embarrassed by the revelation, so we spent the entire day shopping together. I now have more gowns and robes than I can ever possibly wear.

  It’s odd that something so simple can make me feel so sophisticated. I don’t come from money like Henry. Everything I have in life I clawed out and grabbed onto for myself. To spend money on such luxurious, and in my mind, frivolous things, is hard to accept in some ways, but empowering in others. Henry is always good about sharing his wealth without flaunting it, a rare quality I’ve discovered over my lifetime. I can’t say the same for his grandmother—ugh—it is far too early in the morning to think about that woman.

  Speaking of too early, what time is it? I glance at the clock on Henry’s side table. 9:38. I raise my eyebrows, impressed I haven’t slept the Saturday away.

  I slip my feet into the cozy shoes next to my bed and make my way into the kitchen. Being back in New York, after spending the last six months in Paris was unsettling at first, but it hasn’t taken Henry and I long to fall back into a comfortable routine. When I first left for Paris, he sent me images of all the possible condo choices in Manhattan. Part of me wishes I could have been here for the process, but thanks to Henry, I got to feel like I was a part of it all from afar.

  I have Henry to thank for most things in my life right now. He got me the apprenticeship under one of my favorite designers, and now I’m about to have my very own runway show. It’s still hard to believe my own designs will be out in the world.

  When I walk into the kitchen, I catch sight of Henry sitting at the breakfast table near the window, thumbing through the pages of his paper, sipping a cup of coffee. I stop dead in my tracks, drinking in the picture of him. His sandy hair is tousled; I smile as I see him clench his jaw. This is something he does as he reads the financial section. Just the hint of some facial hair casts a shadow on his jaw line—a rare sight as Henry is always clean-shaven.

  My breath catches in my throat as he looks over at me, a smile spreading across his handsome face and a slight twinkle in his blue eyes. Oh, those blue eyes. I still remember the first time I saw them. It was like getting lost in a vast ocean. They swallowed me up, and their power has never released me.

  “Good morning beautiful,” Henry says. That has become his new normal. Every morning when I walk out for breakfast, he greets me with those words. My heart still floods with warmth when I hear it.

  “Morning,” I reply, walking over to him and pressing my lips against his forehead. When I pull away I see him wince slightly. “Are you all right?”

  He nods. “Yeah, it’s this headache. I just can’t seem to shake it.”

  “Have you taken anything for it?” I ask, walking over to pour myself a cup of coffee.

  “Yeah, but none of it seems to work,” he replies, glancing back at the pages of his paper.

  I grab one of the croissants from the plate on the counter and shove it in my mouth, using my free hands to add cream and sugar, before making my way over to Henry, taking a seat across from him. I pull off a piece of the delicate pastry and set the remaining piece on the table.

  I see Henry eye the plate-less food. Though I know things like this annoy him, I also know he will never say it to me. I grab a napkin from the wire holder in the center of the table and place it as a barrier between the table and my food. This seems to please him as a smile tickles the corners of his mouth. I find his various quirks endearing.

  “You don’t take care of yourself,” I insist, a fact I have argued since early in our relationship. “You never shut off.”

  “Sure I do,” Henry dismisses my statement.

  “Oh yeah? It’s a Saturday, and what are you doing right now?”

  “Sitting across from the most beautiful fiancée a man could ever hope for.”

  “Boy, you’re laying it on thick this morning.”

  Henry laughs, setting the paper to the side. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m off work. The last thing I should be doing is reading the financials.”

  “Oh yeah?” I taunt. “Then what exactly should you be doing?’

  “How about we spend the entire day together?” Henry suggests.

  “That sounds perfect,” I reply “But … I have crazy amounts of work to do for the show. It’s ten weeks away, and I haven’t even sketched all of the designs.”

  Henry leans forward and grabs me with his strong and powerful grasp, pulling me into his body and wrapping his arms around me. “I see how it is,” he teases. “You tell me I work too hard, but who can’t take a day off now?”

  “Hey wait,” I laugh, then chime defensively. “The only reason I have to work so hard is because somebody, whose name I shall not mention, committed me to a show with a four-month deadline.”

  Henry nibbles on my neck, and I squirm, the ticklish sensation overwhelming me. It’s pointless to struggle though; his embrace is far too strong for me to break free.

  “You’re welcome,” he says at last, then continues. “You also have a wedding to plan, if I do recall.”

  I stiffen. The mention of the wedding reminds me of the dream I had the night before … the dream of Christian. Why did I have that dream? I somehow always manage to do this to myself, when I find happiness, I inevitably find some way to sabotage it.

  “Are you all right?” Henry asks, sensing the shift in my body. His arms fall to his side, releasing me, and he stares, waiting for a response.

  “I’m fine,” I lie, slinking back to my seat, doing my best not to look into those blue eyes. I’m not fine—I feel terrible—this man who loves me with everything in him deserves to have someone who isn’t as messed up as I am. Someone who doesn’t dream about a man she hasn’t been with for over four years. I can’t lose Henry. I need him. He is more than the best chapter of my life; he’s helped me figure out who and what I want.

  “Baby, something’s wrong. Come on, you can tell me,” he pushes, stretching out an arm and placing his hand on top of mine. His fingers ar
e masculine yet slender. I always enjoy tracing them with my tiny, pale fingertips. With his other hand he reaches up and tucks a stray wiry auburn strand of hair behind my ear, and lifts my chin with his fingertips, forcing me to look at him. “I love you. Now tell me.”

  For a brief second I think about telling him, but men have a jealous habit and don’t exactly understand. I don’t know what the dream meant, but it probably doesn’t mean anything. Christian and I have been over for quite some time. There are no lingering feelings, in fact, I rarely even think of him now.

  “I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. There are so many distractions here, and it feels like I’ll never be able to get it all done in time,” I say, shifting the focus away from the dream I don’t want to talk about.

  “Well, what can I do? Do you need more help with the wedding? Maybe I can take some days off,” Henry offers. And there it is, that guy who can’t stand for me to be unhappy. I’m the center of his world, and he is never afraid to let me know it. I wish I were as brave.

  “I know you’re busy with work. You’re taking three weeks off for our honeymoon. You don’t have any more time to give, but I do appreciate it,” I reply, gripping his hand firmly in my own.

  “What about a girlfriend? Can you enlist one of them to help you?” Henry suggests.

  I burst out laughing, and he peers back at me, puzzled. “I wouldn’t exactly call any of my friends in New York helpful. Emmie is the only one I can count on, but with her and Colin living in Texas now, that’s not going to happen.”

  I watch Henry’s face twist, and then suddenly it lights up. “It’s settled then.”

  Shaking my head, I ask, “What’s settled?”

  “Today we spend the day together, tomorrow, you’re on a plane to Texas.”

  “What? I have too much to do, I can’t.”

  “Exactly. You have too much to do. Emmie will be the perfect solution. I’ll ship you everything you need for the fashion show, you work on that while Emmie helps with the wedding planning. It’s only ten weeks, Paige. We’ll talk every night; I’ll fly down for visits when I can. In ten weeks you’ll be home, the show will be amazing, another week after that we’ll be married, and I’ll be caught up on my work, which means I can leave the firm for three whole weeks in paradise.”

  I tilt my head and think about the suggestion for a moment. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  Henry hops to his feet and takes my hand. “Then I say we start our perfect day of togetherness in the bedroom … without all these clothes.”

  “Henry Wallace, what has gotten into you?” I giggle, gladly allowing myself to be led.

  “Oh, I think I have a lot of surprises in store for you,” Henry snarls, and I feel myself grow warm within.

  Chapter Three

  TAKING A DEEP breath, I soak in the moment—balancing the bath towel my hair is wrapped in on top of my head. Henry is in the shower, and my thoughts drift to our morning of passion, before the growling of my stomach reminds me that such actions require sustenance. Quickly, I run through what I need to take care of—pack for my extended trip, book my flight, make arrangements to have my fabrics shipped to Emmie’s gallery, and it might be nice to call my dear friend and let her know she’s about to have a house guest for the next couple months.

  I reach over and pick up the phone from my nightstand, ignoring the numerous and annoying Facebook notifications, and flip to my contact list. My heart skips a beat as I press Em’s name.

  I listen as the phone rings—one, then two—finding myself growing impatient, missing the voice of my sweet Emmie. “Hello,” she finally answers, sounding out of breath.

  “Hey darling! It’s Paige,” I reply.

  “I know, there’s this great thing nowadays called caller I.D.”

  “Oh, how I’ve missed that bitchy streak.”

  “Sorry, the baby kept me up all night,” Emmie offers.

  “How is beautiful little Olivia?”

  “She’s great, it’s her mom who might be losing her mind. She sleeps all day and then is up all night.”

  “Sounds miserable,” I reply honestly.

  “You know what, I hardly ever get to hear your voice anymore, so let’s not talk about how I get no sleep. What’s going on with you?” Emmie asks. I can hear her trying to shift her tone. I wish I could reach through the phone and give her a supportive hug.

  “I have big surprise.”

  “Let’s see, your last surprise was that you had been offered a show of your own clothing designs, and the surprise before that was that Henry had gotten you a design apprenticeship in Paris, shortly after proposing with a big ass diamond ring. With you girl, I can’t imagine what your next surprise will be.”

  I smile, so used to the excitement of my life that I forget how amazing of a dream I am living. “Well, it’s not quite in the same family of those other things, but I think equally as exciting.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, what’s the surprise?” she presses.

  “You’re going to have a house guest,” I answer excitedly.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m coming to Texas, girl!” I exclaim, surprised to be met by silence on the other end of the line. “Em?”

  “Yeah, I’m— I’m here.”

  “Did you hear me?” I ask, certain she must not have, or I would have heard it in her reaction.

  “Yeah, I heard you. I’m just confused, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emmie pauses, choosing her words carefully. “You have a fashion show coming up in a few months, not to mention a wedding. How can you possibly come for a visit?”

  “That’s why I’m coming. I was stressing out this morning about how I have no friends to help me with the wedding planning here, and I think Henry knows I’ve been missing you guys so much that he told me I should go down there and finish my show in Bastrop.”

  “That’s … great,” Emmie says, though I can sense the uncertainty in her voice.

  “All right, lay it on me, what’s up?” I push.

  “I don’t know if it’s the best time to head down here, sweetie. Between the gallery and Olivia, we barely have time for ourselves, let alone a houseguest. I mean—it’s not that I wouldn’t love to see you, I just think it might be a distraction for you.”

  “Nonsense. Ten weeks down in sleepy town Texas is just what the doctor ordered. And besides, I can’t wait to get my hands on Liv, which will free up some time for you and Colin to be alone. Just no details, please.”

  “Well, I guess.” Emmie still seems hesitant.

  “Ten weeks with your bestie. What more could you ask for? Unless there’s some other reason I shouldn’t come. Is there something else, Emmie? Are you and Colin doing all right?”

  “Other than being sleep deprived, we’re great. You’re right, this will be good.”

  “Perfect, I’ll book my flight into Austin for tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have Colin pick you up, so just text me the time your flight gets in.”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous, you guys have your hands full there; I’ll just take a taxi.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  The last thing I want to do is sit in a vehicle—alone—with Christian’s brother for an hour. A taxi will be best for everyone. “Absolutely, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, now I am getting excited.”

  “Me too. I still can’t believe you moved to Texas.”

  “Oh, Paige, you’re going to love it here.”

  “I don’t know about that, Em. You know I’m a city girl. But I do know I am looking forward to spending time with some of my favorite people.” I hear the water shut off in the bathroom.

  “You can actually see the stars at night here.”

  “Well, I hope it’s as enchanting as you’ve described. Henry just got out of the shower, so I need to get ready. He’s got a togetherness day planned for us before I leave.”

  “You two are so cute,” she
comments.

  “And you’re such a dork,” I joke before we exchange our farewells, and I hang up the phone. It’s official; I’m headed to Texas. Part of me feels apprehensive., though It feels like maybe Em isn’t as excited about the idea as I am, and I definitely don’t want to be an imposition. Forcing the thought from my mind, I decide I will make sure I am nothing of the kind when I get down there.

  Chapter Four

  “FOLKS, WE’VE BEGUN our descent into Austin, where the current weather is a beautiful seventy-seven degrees. We will be at the gate in about twenty minutes. As our flight attendants begin to prepare the cabin for arrival, we’d like to thank you for flying with us today.” I stare out the window to my right, the land below still patchy through the clouds.

  Glancing to my left, the oversized gentleman, who has been dropping bits of food onto my leg for the majority of the flight, is unhappy that the flight attendant has asked him to stow away his carryon bag for the descent. I regret not allowing Henry to book me in first class, as he had suggested before I left.

  One of the few times I’d actually flown first class was when I met Henry. I had taken the modeling job in Europe and, after eighteen months of non-stop travel and shows with the agency, I was flying home. I’d been one of their most dedicated girls, never turning down an event, no schedule too crazy for me. I didn’t have anyone waiting back at home, so there was no reason for me to stop pushing full speed ahead. Much to my delight, the agency had upgraded my flight home to first class as a thank you.

  The idea of oversized, comfortable seats for a massively expensive upgrade fee had always seemed like a ridiculous concept to me. However, anyone who has been on one of those exhausting overseas flights would agree, an extra comfy seat can feel like a necessity after the fourth hour in the air.