Be My Bride (Make It Marriage Book 8)

by Nia Arthurs

  Make my arm fall at my sides.

  “You found me last night.” She swallows and her dainty throat bobs. “You asked me why I was alone.”

  “I remember.”

  “And I told you…” her voice is low and contemplative, “that all my friends were buying dresses, making hair appointments and turning down plans to come to my wedding. I told you I couldn’t face them.” She nods. “And you said…”

  “Want to get out of here?” I whisper.

  She leans forward eagerly, as if I’m some amazing storyteller with the answer to all life’s secrets. Her hair falls into her eyes. She brushes it back in a quick gesture.

  The move draws my eye to that ring again.

  It’s winking at me.

  Taunting me.

  You just screwed up in the worst way, Hansley.

  “Venus’s wedding.” I glance at her. “That’s where we did it.”

  “I…” She stares off into the distance. “I think I remember that. We were in a chapel and there were… all the matchmakers.”

  “Right.”

  The memory flashes in my mind like a movie reel.

  Venus in a short white dress, a cheap veil on her head.

  Troy staring at his bride like she’s his next meal.

  An officiant in a smiley-tie and a bad combover.

  Asia shudders. “You invited me to the wedding. That was after. After we’d gone drinking. We were… really far gone.”

  “I was smashed,” I admit. “And so were you. You kept crying and whining about Thad.”

  “Excuse me for being heartbroken,” she snaps.

  “You lost it when Venus was at the altar.” My heart pinches at the memory. “I took you outside and you bawled on my shoulder.”

  “Then we went back inside and I caught the bouquet. It felt like some cruel trick.”

  The scene bursts into mind. All Venus’s friends around. Throwing rice.

  Venus hefting the cheap plastic tulips. Shrieking. Laughing.

  The bouquet bumped Asia in the head.

  She hadn’t reached for it.

  She hadn’t even been looking at it.

  “You started crying again.” I blink as the memories crash into me. “You were devastated.”

  “I was—” Her phone buzzes.

  She stops. Reaches over to grab it.

  The moment her eyes fall on the screen, the cell phone drops from her hands and curses fly rapid-fire from her lips.

  Seven

  Asia

  Three thousand likes. Three hundred comments.

  Panic steps in as notifications start pouring in from my social media pages.

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  An army of digital hearts explodes on my screen.

  Something happened.

  Something freaking happened.

  I didn’t post anything worth this much hype last night.

  Did I?

  “What’s wrong?” Hansley asks. He’s on the other side of the bed, his eyes wide and his shoulders tense.

  After piecing together my crazy night with him, I can remember almost everything.

  Running into him at the bar.

  Talking.

  Drinking.

  Crying.

  Drinking some more.

  Bawling on the street.

  Going dancing.

  Laughing hysterically.

  Drinking again.

  The moment he proposed is etched into my soul. Venus’s wedding was over, but I couldn’t leave. I kept staring at the rice on the ground and the bouquet in my hands.

  Sorrow overwhelmed me.

  I felt insignificant.

  Hollow.

  Jealous.

  Hansley approached and asked what was wrong. I screamed that no one would ever marry me. It was one of the most pathetic moments of my life. One I cringe to recall now.

  Hansley got down on his knees and said, I’ll do it.

  I’ll do it.

  As if we were talking about who’d buy lunch.

  “Asia.” Hansley grabs my wrist.

  I yank my arm out of his.

  He’s naked.

  I’m naked.

  We’re married.

  And we’re in bed.

  This all feels too crazy.

  Too intimate.

  Too… weird.

  “What’s wrong?” he presses.

  “I think… I recorded what we did last night.”

  “What?” He scrambles over.

  His strong chest hovers over me. The scent of cologne and vodka wafts from his body.

  He’s close enough that I can see the texture of my lipstick stains on his skin.

  It’s a dark maroon.

  Looks great on my skin.

  Looks sexy on his.

  The stains spell a raunchy story.

  They paint a journey starting from his abs.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Please let this be a nightmare I wake up from.

  Hansley takes the phone from me and curses. “You’re right. It’s us.”

  “Let me see.”

  He turns the screen around and flashes the picture at me.

  I gasp as I watch my drunken smile. I’m kissing Hansley’s cheek and he’s tipping his chin up to the camera like a football player who scored his first winning touch down. My hand is up at the camera, flashing the ring he bought.

  Underneath the picture is a caption.

  So happy to be Mrs. Hansley Nicholas.

  My eyes roll back in my head and I wilt against the pillows. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me our drunken wedding pictures didn’t go viral.”

  “That’s us at Venus’s wedding.” He swipes his thumb. “That’s you with the bouquet.” Swipe. "Elvis.” His head bounces up. His voice gets more frustrated. “Us again. More of Elvis.” Swipe. “Why the hell did you take a selfie of everything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Asia…”

  “Alright! I wanted Thad to see it.” I grab at my hair. “I was drunk! And hurt. And embarrassed.”

  “Do you have any idea…” His nostrils flare.

  “This isn’t my fault. Might I remind you that you’re the one who proposed in the first place.”

  He growls. “You need to take that down.”

  “Everyone’s already seen it.”

  “You don’t understand. I—”

  His phone rings cutting off his answer. Hansley reaches over to the nightstand and swipes his device from the surface.

  He curses. “It’s Brett.”

  “You think he saw?” I gasp. “You think they all saw?”

  He slants me a dark look and gets off the bed. I avert my eyes as the sheet gently slides away from him, but not before I catch an eyeful of Hansley’s strong thighs and big—

  My phone rings.

  Mom's name parades in front of me.

  My heart bucks wildly.

  I dig my fingers into the sheets and hide beneath it.

  Is it possible for me to make my new home in this Vegas hotel room and never show my face again?

  The phone keeps ringing.

  I hear the muffled sounds of Hansley’s voice from the bathroom. Wonder what Brett is saying. Probably something along the lines of ‘are you crazy? Who marries a girl they barely know?’

  My nostrils flare as I grab the complimentary robe from the closet. Dressing quickly, I tie the band around my waist and cinch it tight.

  There.

  I’m dressed. I’m in control.

  I observe the hotel room in the morning light.

  It’s huge. Definitely not something Thad would spring for, so I’m assuming I’m in Hansley’s room. A stunning cityscape view juts against a crisp blue sky. Fluffy clouds float by, evoking a false sense of calm.

  I stare at the view and keep inhaling deep breaths.

  I’m in control. I can fix this.

  My foot slip
s against something silky on the ground.

  I kneel. Pick the fabric up.

  Pain swallows my heart.

  It’s the little black dress I wore last night.

  I never had a chance to wear the thing before now. Mostly because I prefer jeans and sneakers to fancy gowns and high heels. In my line of work, comfortable wear is superior to style, but I’m always open to dressing up.

  When I put on that dress last night, it felt powerful and beautiful. Now, as I hold the outfit up to the light and smell the harsh scent of booze, it feels cheap and stupid.

  But that’s not the dress’s fault.

  It’s all mine.

  My phone chirps.

  I ignore mom’s text and swipe to my social media pages.

  One by one, I delete the posts.

  Mom’s call notification suddenly fills the screen.

  I freak out.

  Answer on impulse.

  Her voice screeches in my ears. “Asia Simone Jackson! What the hell are those posts about?”

  “It’s a funny story.”

  “Funny, huh?”

  “I got married in Vegas.”

  “You what?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Explain how your fiancé changed overnight?”

  “The thing is…”

  “I don’t remember Thad having deep brown eyes and a jaw line that can cut freaking glass!”

  “Mom, Thad and I broke up,” I blurt.

  Silence.

  I pull my bottom lip into my teeth and chew furiously. So… I didn’t tell Mom about Thad’s text yesterday. I couldn’t.

  She’d freak out.

  And then she’d tell Dad.

  And then keying Thad’s car would have been the tamest thing that happened to him. Mom’s been known to go full She-Hulk to protect me.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry.” Mom lowers her voice. “But how did breaking up with Thad translate to marrying some guy in Vegas?”

  “Well…”

  There’s a thud on the door.

  Someone’s outside.

  “Mom, I have to go.”

  “Asia…”

  “I’ll see you later.” I hang up.

  Mom’s probably steaming.

  I’m going to pay for that when I get back home.

  Thud. Thud.

  “Who is it?” I yell.

  Hansley hears my voice and opens the bathroom door. He’s still on the phone, but his eyes meet mine and, in that moment, we share a silent conversation.

  This is bad, right?

  Really bad.

  Can we fix it?

  He gives me a helpless look.

  I wrap my arms around my torso and try to steady my breath. The world keeps shifting around me, but there has to be a way out. Right?

  There’s no way one tiny mistake will ruin the carefully constructed existence I’ve fashioned around me, is there?

  Persistent knocks on the front door break me out of my frantic thoughts.

  “I'm coming! I’m coming!” I grunt.

  I’m guessing the person outside is Venus with questions about why I crashed her wedding celebrations. Or maybe it’s Amina wondering if I’m completely insane. It can even be Tierra, ready to ream me over the coals for failing to stop her friend from making a huge, drunken mistake.

  My fingers wrap around the doorknob.

  I pull.

  Yank it open.

  Glance over a pair of dusty sneakers, wrinkled jeans, a grey T-shirt.

  My heart pounds as I keep looking up.

  To a scrawny neck.

  To lean shoulders.

  To a pair of dull grey eyes.

  My jaw drops and I croak out. “Thad?”

  Eight

  Hansley

  “We’re sorting it out,” I hiss, scrubbing my palm against my face. “Asia deleted the posts. It’ll blow over.”

  “It’s on every freaking tabloid, Hansley.”

  I cringe. “I’ll take care of that too.”

  “How? How the hell are you going to fix this?”

  I rub the bridge of my nose and find my harried reflection in the glass mirror.

  My hair falls all over my forehead, expanding by the minute into natural waves. Dark circles run beneath my eyes. Evidence of Asia’s languid kisses linger all over my chest and back.

  Damn.

  This is out of control.

  I have no idea how I’m going to reel all the crazy in, but I have to. I don’t have any other choice.

  “If Jensen sees this…” Brett hisses.

  My shoulders stiffen. “He won’t.”

  “But what if he does?”

  “Then I’ll handle it.”

  “Hansley…”

  “Brett,” I interrupt him, “you know me. I’ve never let my personal drama interfere with my work. I’ll straighten this…” I stumble over the word, “marriage thing out no matter what. I swear.”

  “You better, Hans. If this acquisition falls through, we’ll lose the pivotal piece of technology we need to make this expansion succeed.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I snap.

  “Well, you didn’t seem to care when you were picking out diamond rings!”

  “You have every right to be annoyed, but it’s my life. As long as I don’t harm the company, you don’t get a say in it.”

  “The hell?” Brett scoffs. “You’re my friend, Hans. This isn’t just about the damn company.”

  “Brett—“

  “Do you even know this girl?”

  “I… sort of.”

  "Sort of?”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s true love, right?”

  “Is it?”

  I hesitate.

  “Do you love her, Hansley?”

  I scrub my face again.

  “What do you think Shar would say if she was here?” Brett whispers.

  His words are a sucker punch to the gut. I bowl over, my hair flopping into my eyes and my heart pounding in my chest.

  “You didn’t need to go there, Brett.”

  “We both know I’m only saying what’s true.”

  “Stop.”

  “Shar was the only one who could get through to you. Through to both of us.”

  Damn. All the grief I’d been trying so hard to push away charges over me like a bull about to impale a matador. I reach out and cling to the sink, digging on for dear life so I don’t fall.

  “The stupid stunts you’ve pulled since she’s been gone—look, I get it. Anything to dull the pain, right? I’ve been there.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “She was my sister, man. Don’t you think it would hurt me too? But you crossed a line this time, Hans. This is utter madness. This rampage of destruction and recklessness has to end. Shar would have hated to see you get this low because of her.”

  I shake my head, unable to breathe. Unable to respond with an answer that will get Brett and his brotherly concern off my back.

  My mind goes blank.

  All I can see is Sharon, bravely smiling at me from her death bed. And me, standing at her side, the words I needed to say balling in my throat and refusing to spill out, clinging to me like a kid on his first day of pre-school clawing at his mother’s leg.

  In the distance, I hear knocking on the door. Grateful for the distraction, I peer through the room to find Asia heading to answer it.

  Brett’s voice is soft in my ears. “I don’t mean to be harsh. Do you… you know you can talk to me, Hansley.”

  I don’t answer.

  My mind has already shifted from this conversation.

  I’ve already blocked him off.

  That’s the only way I can gain back my equilibrium. Try to find my bearings.

  I can’t get stuck on my regrets.

  Can’t let thoughts of Shar pool the waters.

  This is where I am now.

  This is who I am now.

  Who I always was.

  A responsible screw-
up.

  ‘Responsible’ because I never let anyone clean up my messes.

  Asia and I can’t be married.

  Not today.

  Not ever.

  She opens the door. Stiffens in shock.

  Her slender, brown hands fall away from the knob and slam against her side like dancing balloons losing air. She gasps loudly, brown eyes widening.

  My focus zones in on her until it feels like I can count her every breath.

  Something’s wrong.

  I dig my fingers into the phone. “I need to go.”

  “Wait!”

  I hang up on Brett.

  Toss the cell.

  Stride over to Asia.

  She’s trembling and, when she looks up at me, I read terror in her eyes. There’s something else. Something I can’t put my finger on. What is it exactly. Guilt? Regret? Shame?

  “Is this the guy from the pictures?” A man glares my way. He’s tall—though not as tall as me. His slender arms ball at his sides.

  I turn fully to Asia. Notice the way she’s responding to him.

  Wrinkles pool between her brows.

  Her bottom lip trembles slightly.

  I spent all of last night watching her shift between crying and pretending that she was okay. I know the signs of her particular brand of emotional devastation like the back of my hand.

  “Hey.” I gently take a hold of her shoulders. “You need to breathe. Okay?”

  She nods. Starts inhaling deeply.

  “Get your hands off her,” String Bean yells.

  Her eyes dart to him and her body locks up, undoing all the calm I’d tried to pull out of her.

  She’s freaking out.

  Unravelling from the stress.

  Her hands lift blindly as she presses against the wall to hold herself up. Worried, I start to wrap my arms around her when String Bean takes a threatening step forward.

  “I said hands off!” He grabs my wrist.

  “Stop,” Asia whispers. Her voice is so low it sounds like a wheeze.

  I sneer at String Bean. “You need to leave.”

  “You’re the one who needs to leave!” String Bean throws out a wild fist.

  His knuckles bounce off my shoulder with the force of a mosquito bite.

  I hear bones cracking.

  He jumps back, skittering like a frog over an open flame. Muted groans and ‘ow, ow, ow’s pour from his lips.

  Nursing his bruised hand, he whips his head up. “I’m going to kill you for that.”

  I almost snort.

  Like to see you try.