by Katie Allen
“What?” The word was mostly a gasp, since she was sucking air and past the point of trying to hide it.
With a wicked grin, Louis sped up even more. Narrowing her eyes at him, Annabelle pushed her arms and legs to work just a little bit harder. Her lungs protested the lack of oxygen.
“A ring.” To her satisfaction, he finally sounded out of breath. “A...wedding ring.”
She knew she couldn’t keep up this speed for long, but she wasn’t about to be the one who gave up first. The lack of air to her brain prevented her from understanding what he was saying, and she gave him a questioning look. “Why...are you...giving...me a...wedding...ring?”
“To keep the...assholes away.”
Her laugh turned into a desperate inhale. “A ring...doesn’t...help. Ask...any married...person.” This was such a strange conversation, but she couldn’t really concentrate on the weirdness, since she was so focused on trying to get enough air and hoping her heart didn’t explode. The only saving grace was that she was pretty sure he’d slowed down just a hair.
“Still...get...ting...you...a...ring.” His teeth were bared with effort, and sweat plastered the front of his T-shirt to his chest.
Everything in her was pushing to keep her speed up and not fall behind his rhythm, so her thoughts flew out of her mouth without any filtering. “If...you’re...getting...me a...ring and...calling me...your...wife, you...might as...well just...marry me...for real.”
He released the bar, letting it snap back as he dropped his foot to the ground to bring his seat to an abrupt halt. The stop was so unexpected that Annabelle kept rowing for several more strokes before she realized that he wasn’t moving anymore. She eased to a stop and threw her hands up in the air.
“I won!” Since she was still struggling to suck in enough air, the triumphant moment lost some of its impact, but she was still smug about it, especially since she’d been a few seconds away from throwing in the towel.
“Okay.”
That didn’t make sense. “Okay, I won?”
“No, okay to your proposal.”
Maybe it was her oxygen-deprived brain, but he wasn’t making any sense. “What did I propose?”
He grinned, his teeth white against his tan skin. “Marriage. You proposed to me, and I said yes. Are you warmed up? Good. C’mon, my wife-to-be. Let’s go lift.”
As he headed for the free weights, Annabelle stared at him, dazed. Was he joking? Of course he was. He had to be.
Still, a tiny voice in her head piped up. What if he means it? Can he really want to marry me? Immediately, she mashed that small hope into oblivion. It didn’t matter whether he meant it or not. It was ridiculous. They couldn’t get married. Everyone knew that first came love and then came marriage, and Louis didn’t love her like that.
Did he?
Chapter Twelve
Even hours later, as they sat on the couch watching an episode of a terrible show they both couldn’t stop watching, Annabelle wasn’t sure how to bring up the topic. He’d made teasing comments all evening about the whole marriage thing, but she wanted—no, needed—to clarify that he was truly just joking. That tiny bit of hope that kept popping up and whispering that it was not just a running gag would only grow as time passed, which meant that it would be even more painful when that got stomped into the ground. She needed to just ask him outright, to tell him that her answer was a firm no, and the sooner the better.
“Why is Cayden such an idiot?” Louis groaned, grabbing the popcorn off the coffee table and holding it out to her. She took a handful, grateful at the delay while, at the same time, annoyed by relief.
“I don’t know.” She shoved some popcorn into her mouth and chewed it more aggressively than was absolutely necessary. “Why are we such idiots that we watch this god-awful show?”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked half smile. “Because we stumbled onto it.”
“We might have stumbled onto it initially, but we’re almost through the first season. At some point we need to take responsibility for our poor choices.”
He laughed but didn’t look away from the screen. “We have to find out whether Joanna’s pregnant with Cayden’s baby, which, by the way, she totally is.”
“Nope. That is Thorn’s baby. Just wait and see.” She leaned over to grab another handful of popcorn from the bowl he now held on his lap.
“See what? If the baby comes out with full-sleeve tats and an eyebrow ring?”
She laughed, covering her mouth so she didn’t spit popcorn everywhere. “That is exactly how I imagine Thorn’s baby would look like.”
They fell silent as the drama on the show ramped up. Once the on-screen argument was over, Annabelle felt that same tension she’d been feeling since the gym build up inside her again. She had to know, right now. “Louis?”
“Yes, Annabelle Shay?” He tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in his mouth.
“This whole marriage thing...” She tried to think of a way to word it that wouldn’t make her look ridiculous when he assured her that it had just been a joke.
“Is going to be great, right?” He finished her sentence in a way that didn’t clarify a thing. Placing the popcorn bowl back on the table, he turned off the TV and looked at her.
For once, she couldn’t read his expression. Was he teasing or just happy? Holding back a growl of frustration, she shifted to face him, her back against the sofa arm. It reminded her of the night after Desi’s show, with the wine and the talking and her feet in his lap and the touching... With a sharp inhale, she refocused her thoughts before they could meander off to daydream territory.
“I imagine it would be a lot like now, painting and doing shows and going to movies when you’re stuck and paying the bills and watching really bad TV that we’re inexplicitly addicted to and me kicking your ass at the gym.” Why did all of that have to sound so wonderful when she was trying to firmly turn him down...or at least figure out if he’d actually asked her? “Except with more kissing.” The last words were out before she considered them, and she immediately felt her face heat upon hearing them.
His face lit with a smile, even as his lids lowered slightly, a spark of heat igniting in his eyes. “Like I said, it’ll be great.” His voice had a rough undercurrent that made her shiver and lean forward, as if her body was trying to get closer to him without asking her mind if that was a good idea. “Really great.”
She blinked and sat back, yanking herself out of the haze Louis put her in. The conversation wasn’t really helping to determine whether this was just a very long-running joke or an actual thing that he wanted to actually happen. The tiny spark of hope that desperately wanted to be married to Louis flared higher, but she determinedly smothered it.
“Are you joking?” she asked, needing a definite yes-or-no answer. Before he could give that to her, more words came gushing out in a torrent of thoughts that had been tying her in knots since their rowing battle. “It seems like you’re joking, and it makes more sense that you’re joking, since this is not how people go about proposing, but then you say something that makes me wonder if you’re actually serious, like just now, and I’m back to thinking that we’re going to end up really getting married, and I’m going to believe it was all just a prank until it happens and a minister or a justice of the peace or an Elvis impersonator or a ship captain or someone who has the authority to join us together for life is there, saying until death do us part, and my mom’s at the reception, and we’re cutting cake and opening presents, and I’m just sitting there saying, ‘I thought it was a joke?’ so I need to know for sure right now.” She sucked in a breath as he stared at her, eyes wide. “Is this a joke or are you serious about wanting to get married?” She paused and then added, “To me.”
His mouth started to curl up at the ends, and her heart did a funny nervous skip as her stomach dropped. He was smiling. I
t had been a joke, and she managed to look like a huge, hopeful, naïve, gullible idiot, which was extra stupid, since she was going to turn him down, anyway.
“I really do want to get married,” he said. “To you.”
Now that it was out, and he’d answered in a way that could not be misinterpreted, she could only stare at him as her brain tried to wrap around the information he’d just laid in front of her. It was everything she’d secretly hoped, and yet she couldn’t allow herself to get excited about it, because there was no way she could go along with it. He hadn’t said anything about loving her. Except for their post-wine touching session on the couch, he hadn’t indicated that he was attracted to her. They’d never officially dated. She hadn’t meant what she’d said to be a proposal, but he’d intentionally misunderstood her in order to wrangle an engagement. She opened her mouth, prepared to tell him in no uncertain terms that they could not get married.
What came out wasn’t exactly what she’d planned. “Why?”
“Why?” His smile grew, sweet and yet with that hint of mischief that made her scared this whole thing was a giant tease. “You said it earlier. We have a great thing going here. Why not keep it? If we’re married, you won’t have to find a new place and move out. I get to have you around all the time. Neither of us like dating, and now we won’t have to. We get all the good stuff without having to go through the bad, awkward stuff.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, still not completely convinced he was serious. It sounded logical, and she couldn’t argue about any of his points, but it just wasn’t the way things were done. “What about sex?”
His gaze dipped, just for a moment, before he met her eyes again. “What about it?”
“Will we have it?” Stop this! the logical portion of her brain screamed. She wasn’t supposed to be building up their hypothetical future marriage. All she had to do was make it clear that she wasn’t about to marry him. Why was that so hard to do?
For the first time in this crazy-ass, surreal conversation, he hesitated, his confident smile getting stiff around the edges. “Yes. I mean, I’d like to, if you want to.” There was another endlessly long beat of silence. “With me.”
“Yes.” She’d answered too fast. Even before his smile softened and stretched, she knew she’d thrown her agreement out there too quickly. No, no, no! her brain yelled. The answer is no! No marriage and absolutely no sex! Do you want to get over this crazy crush or not?
“Well, then. Yes. We’ll have sex. When we’re married.” His confidence was back at full power, as if her blurting out her agreement had revealed just how much she wanted this, wanted him.
His words when we’re married replayed in her mind, and it was suddenly too much. Everything was crashing down on her, and her thoughts weren’t forming logical patterns anymore. She needed sleep. Maybe in the morning this insane situation would have sorted itself out, and the whole marriage thing would turn out to be one of Louis’s jokes. She wasn’t too hopeful about that, but she knew for sure that nothing productive would come from continuing this strange conversation. “I think I need to go to bed now.”
His low chuckle made her realize how that sounded when it came immediately after his declaration that they’d have sex.
“To sleep, I mean.” When he laughed harder, she wasn’t improving anything. Standing, she waved a hand. “Goodnight, Louis.”
His laughter faded, but amusement was still clear in his voice. “Goodnight, Annabelle Shay, my future wife.”
“Stop.” The word was drawn out and embarrassingly whiny, and it made him crack up again. “We’re not getting married, and I need to sleep. No more mentions of wives or husbands or marriage or anything related to those terms until we both get some rest, agreed?”
“Sure.” He was still grinning, but he stayed obediently quiet as she headed for the bedroom door. When she reached it, she paused, looking at Louis sprawled on the couch.
“You don’t have to sleep on the sofa.” No matter where they were in their confusing and strange marriage negotiations, she still didn’t want to keep him out of his own bed. “There’s plenty of room in your bed. Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean we have to...sleep together.” At his quizzical look, she waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I’m too tired to make sense right now, but the bottom line is that you staying on the couch is dumb. Sleep in the bed with me.”
Knowing that she probably hadn’t made a bit of sense, she stomped into the bedroom, tired and out of sorts and unsure of whether she should be feeling giddy with happiness or shattered by nerves. At that point, she just felt numb and tired—really, really tired.
“Tomorrow everything will make sense,” she muttered as she changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. “Neither you nor Louis will talk about marriage or sex. It’ll just be normal conversations.” First, though, she had to get through a night of possibly sleeping right next to Louis. For a moment, she wondered if her pajamas left too much skin exposed if Louis was going to join her in bed, but then she dismissed her concern. There was no way she’d be able to sleep in a T-shirt and yoga pants. She’d feel like a mummy wrapped up in all that excess fabric.
Closing the dresser door with a snap, she headed into the bathroom. There were enough real things to worry about without getting caught up on what pajamas to wear to bed. After all, Louis hadn’t even said whether he’d be joining her. For all she knew, he might be planning to spend another night on the couch or in the studio.
When she stepped out of the bathroom and saw that the bed was still empty, she felt her stomach swoop as her hopes were dashed. Shoving away her disappointment, she crawled into bed and tugged the covers over her. Louis always set the thermostat low, so even in warmish September, she burrowed gratefully under the duvet. Despite her exhaustion and her determination to not worry about whether or not Louis would be joining her, she realized that she was holding herself stiffly. She couldn’t stop straining her ears for any sound from him, anything to indicate that he might be going into the studio or heading into the bedroom to join her.
With a frustrated groan, she flipped over onto her belly and buried her face into the mound of pillows. Tiredness pulled at her, and she gradually relaxed, sinking toward sleep.
A soft thump-thud jerked her fully awake, and she recognized the sound as him crutching his way across the bedroom. All the tension that had so recently eased out of her immediately returned, and she was back to lying stiffly as she listened to Louis move around. When he went into the bathroom, she mentally scolded herself for being so anxious. Even if he did end up getting into bed with her, nothing would happen except for sleep—if she could manage to relax enough to doze off, that was.
It was just that everything was so up in the air, and her exhausted brain wasn’t processing very well. Small things tended to seem bigger when she was tired, and she’d been obsessing about her feelings for Louis for months, so sleeping together for the first time—even if it was the literal kind of sleeping together—felt like a huge deal.
Oddly enough, once she allowed herself to stress about it, she relaxed slightly. Letting out a huff of laughter at her contrary mind, she turned over and curled up on her side. She needed to do that with the whole situation, to let go and allow things to happen naturally. The idea of marriage was ridiculous, of course, but sleeping with Louis was a very real possibility. It went against her need to plan and organize and control, but she could do it. Maybe. Thumping her head on the pillow, she bit back a frustrated groan, not wanting Louis to hear her. She was frustrated with her thoughts that wouldn’t stop spinning, the same doubts and questions and insecurities showing themselves over and over.
The click of the bathroom door latch brought her out of her endless hamster wheel of thoughts, and she went still, waiting, her ears following the sound of his progress out of the bathroom and around to the other side of the bed. Her heartbeat sped up when the covers shifted
and the mattress jostled slightly as he eased himself into bed.
For a semi-panicked moment she considered pretending that she was asleep, but that seemed childish and silly, so she turned over to face him. He was sitting up, his leg under the covers, wearing his usual amused smirk as he flicked a glance toward the lamp next to her.
“Do you usually sleep with the light on?” he asked.
After her agonized worrying, the question came as a relief, and she realized that she’d been braced for a continuation of their crazy marriage discussion. Although she knew they needed to talk more about that, and that she needed to tell him a definite no, she required some sleep and a chance to get her thoughts together first. Right now, she could handle talking about lamps. “Not usually. I’m not sure why I left it on tonight. My brain was just busy, I guess.”
“You don’t mind if I shut it off, then?”
When she shook her head, he picked up the remote off the nightstand and pressed a button. The lamp went dark, and Annabelle blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Although blinds covered the windows, the skylights above the bed were left clear, allowing ambient light from nearby streetlamps and buildings to filter in.
There were rustling sounds next to her, and then Louis let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?” As her eyes became accustomed to the near darkness, she saw that he was lying on his back, his face turned toward her. There was a couple of feet between them, since Louis’s bed was huge, but it still felt intimately close, and Annabelle had to resist the urge to shift awkwardly. It was different from being in the studio or even on the couch next to him. This was a bed. She was in bed with Louis Dumont. Her mind boggled at the situation she was in. Even just a few weeks ago, she would never have guessed that she’d be lying next to Louis, trying to sort out just how she felt about marrying him. It was making her brain hurt, so she tucked away those thoughts to analyze later.
