Be My Bride (Make It Marriage Book 8)

by Nia Arthurs

A stroke of my thumb against her knuckles.

  An arm over the back of her chair.

  A finger drawing circles on her bare shoulders.

  Ah, yes, she’s leaning into me.

  Damn. Yes.

  I need more of her skin against mine now.

  My lips are against her forehead.

  She adjusts her leg. Presses her upper thigh into mine.

  My pants tighten.

  Hell, I want my wife.

  How far can I take this with another person and a camera in the room?

  I keep pushing. Pushing. Pushing.

  More touches.

  More of Asia sighs.

  More of her eyelashes fluttering as she tries to focus on the interview while I stroke her.

  Much too early, the reporter ends the interview. After laughing about how affectionate we are, she stands and shakes our hands, telling us we did great.

  Us.

  Me and Asia.

  The two people standing on the brink of divorce.

  I wonder if it’s that easy to fool someone.

  The reporter’s either blind or an adept liar.

  Anyone could see that’s something off between me and Asia.

  Or maybe they can’t.

  Maybe I’m the only one so consumed by the failure of his marriage that it’s become my whole world. Maybe people only need to see two people smiling, heavy petting and holding hands to believe they’re in love.

  Pathetic.

  Right under the surface, that couple could be going through hell.

  The interviewer leaves and Asia drops my hand like it’s a hot coal. The way she flings it away and huffs in disgust throws me completely off guard. She tugs the strap of her purse higher and turns away from me.

  My body aches for her.

  I want to pin her to the wall and snatch those hands right up again.

  I want her to look me in the eyes with something genuine, none of that fake stuff she was putting out for the interview.

  I want inside of that tight little body.

  And I want all of that tender heart.

  But I don’t deserve to go there.

  I screwed it up once.

  I’d only hurt her again.

  And I can’t, under any circumstances, do that to Asia.

  So I stay back.

  Keep my distance.

  The silence lengthens.

  “How have you been?” I ask, unable to control myself totally.

  Her eyes flick up. They’re dark. Ringed with thick, black lashes. The makeup draws attention to the almond-shape of her eyes and some sparkly shadow on her eyelids. It’s like her eyes are glowing. Like she’s magic.

  Asia tightens her fingers on her purse strap. “Fine.”

  “I swung by the house yesterday. The manager told me there was a leaking pipe. Figured maybe I could fix it.”

  “Hm.”

  “It was a simple solution. I only had to—”

  “What are you doing, Hansley?”

  I blink. Shake my head. “Making conversation.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Her voice drops low. “There’s no need to pretend any more. The reporter’s gone.”

  She might be gone, but my feelings aren’t.

  The obsession with Asia only got stronger since we separated.

  My heart’s caught on this woman and it won’t let go.

  She’s buried soul-deep.

  My fingers run through my hair. “I just…”

  I miss you.

  I want you back.

  I need you in my arms tonight.

  The words launch to the tip of my tongue, but fear holds them back.

  I take a step toward her instead.

  The air between us charges.

  The chemistry’s still there.

  Still burning bright and hot.

  She was moaning softly all through that interview. Inching closer to me. Trying to stir me up with a hand on my leg, a finger stroking my thigh, an invitation in her dark gaze to come closer and kiss her.

  All our problems haven’t gone away, but if I can just touch her…

  I reach out.

  My fingers almost graze her cheek.

  Almost…

  Asia steps back. “We’re over.”

  Two words.

  Two bullets to the chest.

  Bam. Bam.

  I stumble back. Let my arm drop to my side.

  “There’s only one week left.” Her mouth is firm. So is her voice. “Only five more days and our agreement ends.”

  “Asia…”

  “I’ll send you the divorce papers, Hansley.” Her eyes narrow. “Sign them.”

  Damn. That hurts.

  That’s freaking agony.

  She turns on her heels and scurries out of the room.

  Darkness falls heavy on my shoulders.

  As I watch her walk away, it feels like I’ve truly hit rock bottom. She’s floating on a current that I can’t get to while I’m drowning in the depths, barely able to keep my head above the water.

  I’ve been brought to my knees by one gorgeous woman.

  Will I ever recover from this?

  This is your fault idiot.

  True.

  I lied to her.

  I chose to leave.

  I chose this.

  They were all steps I made of my own free will, so why does living with the consequences hurt so badly? Why does watching her walk away from me stab a hole into my heart?

  This is the right decision.

  The best one for Asia.

  I’m protecting her from me. Why can’t my heart understand that?

  As I leave the news station and plod to my car, my mind keeps tripping on Asia.

  Last month, when I woke up next to her in Vegas, I was groggy and hungover. She showed me the ring and I sobered real fast, but I wasn’t shocked for long. The more I stared at that diamond, my diamond, on her finger, the less foreign it felt to me.

  Like hell yeah Asia was my wife.

  Hell yeah, I’d whisk her away to a VIP lounge.

  Hell freaking yeah, I’d take her out shopping and introduce her to my parents and spend the night worshipping those gorgeous curves.

  My heart pangs with every memory.

  I tighten my fingers on the wheel and force myself to focus on the road ahead. Reaching out, I turn the radio on and hear a slow, crying rock song about heartbreak and pain.

  It’s killing me.

  Still, I don’t turn it off.

  I coast away on the lovesick melody, diving into memories of me and Asia and realizing with each painful breath that I really, really miss my wife.

  Thirty-Three

  Asia

  “He misses you.”

  I glance up.

  Focus on Elizabeth.

  She’s sitting across from me in the little breakfast nook of my—I mean Hansley’s home. Divorce papers lie in front of me. Her husband, Brogan, is a lawyer and I asked him to help me draw up the documents.

  I didn’t expect Elizabeth to deliver them herself.

  I didn’t expect to feel so emotional when she did.

  Maybe that’s why she came. Maybe she knew I’d be a total mess and that I’d try to endure the pain alone.

  Guess that’s the risk I took with getting the papers drawn up by a lawyer associated with Make It Marriage. These ladies are the nosiest set of women I’ve ever met in my life.

  It’s a wonder they didn’t all show up today.

  “How do you know that?” I fold my arms over my chest.

  “That Hansley misses you?” Elizabeth rubs her chin. “Do you care?”

  “No.”

  “It looks like you do.”

  “I don’t.” I lean forward. Press my wrists against the divorce papers. “We did what we set out to do. They got Jensen to sign the contract and Make It Marriage is out of the headlines thanks to our positive interview. We succeeded.”

  “Then why do you look just as miserable as he d
oes?”

  I cup my cheek. Turn to the mirror in the corner. “Is it that bad?”

  She cringes. Nods.

  At least she’s honest.

  I stare at my reflection. A tired black woman blinks back at me. Her hair is in a messy bun, in bad need of another touch-up at the salon. Her eyes are sunken in with dark circles beneath.

  On the bright side, I’ve lost some weight.

  Who knew heartbreak could stick better than any fad diet I’ve tried?

  Elizabeth looks me up and down. “Have you been eating?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Somewhat?” She gawks.

  I get up and move to the fridge. “Haven’t had much of an appetite.”

  “You’re both idiots,” she mumbles.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Elizabeth lifts pink lips in a patronizing smile. “Nothing.”

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you?”

  “I know what you’re all thinking.” I circumvent the water in the fridge and grab a bottle of iced tea. “But Hansley and I aren’t like you and Brogan. We have bigger problems.”

  “Like?”

  I swallow my iced tea and, in a flat voice, tell her about Svena and the pregnancy.

  Elizabeth sits in stunned silence.

  “How am I supposed to move past that?” I move the divorce papers around. “How?”

  “I don’t know. I guess… it depends on one thing.”

  “What?”

  “If you want to.”

  I glance up. “It’s not that simple.”

  “We all make mistakes, Asia. Nobody’s perfect.” She sighs. “To be honest, I didn’t know about that pregnancy drama, but it doesn’t change the fact that Hansley is head over heels for you.”

  “How are you so sure? How do we know he won’t change his mind in ten years? Or ten months?”

  “Nobody knows what the future will bring. We just make the best, informed decisions we can now.” Elizabeth takes my hand and squeezes it. “With Brogan, I got to observe how he behaved around his mother and his little niece. I saw how patient and loving he was with them and I knew he was going to be the same with me. In Hansley, I see the same patience and care, especially when he’s protecting you. That man gets fierce.” She tilts her head. “Am I… wrong?”

  “No.” I let out a breath as I think about all the ways Hansley’s silently taken care of me. “No. I… he even had me stay in the house.” I gesture to the lavish condo. “Even though we broke up, he still respects me as his wife.”

  “See.”

  “I don’t know, Liz. I can’t…”

  “Is this really about whether or not Hansley’s going to be a father to an outside child or is there more?”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “My list is very specific.”

  “Okay.” Her eyebrows tilt down.

  “I didn’t want a billionaire. I didn’t want a guy who’s stylish and handsome enough to have his face on billboards. I wanted someone average. Someone who looked average. Someone that wouldn’t attract any attention from girls or have millions of opportunities to cheat on me. I wanted…”

  “Thad.”

  I dip my chin down.

  “But look, the guy who hit everything on your list still hurt you.”

  I wince. “True.”

  “That’s because what’s important isn’t if a man is a billionaire or if he’s average looking or hot. Even the ugliest men can cheat.” She points to her chest. “What matters is if that man has chosen you in his heart. Because once he makes a decision in his heart that you’re it, that you're the one, he’s not going to waver from it.”

  “What if it’s my heart that’s the problem?”

  She smiles confidently. “It’s not. You’re already so far gone I wouldn’t be able to rescue you with a submarine.”

  “Hey!”

  “At a certain point, you need to wake up and see what’s right in front of you. Hansley’s a real flesh-and-blood person with a real past and real flaws. He’s not a list. You can’t get married to those. Besides I heard they’re horrible in bed.”

  I crack out laughing. “Elizabeth!”

  She smirks. “Believe me, I know choosing love isn’t easy even if I’m making it sound like it is, but living your life in fear,” she pushes the divorce papers forward, “will make you miss out on something unbelievably great.”

  I take her words in.

  Sit on them.

  Let it percolate in my mind for hours, even after Elizabeth leaves.

  I walk into the bedroom with the divorce papers in hand, glancing at the bed where Hansley kissed me so desperately. Next, my eyes move to the exact spot on the carpet where we ended it.

  My heart aches and moans. It’s a familiar agony, almost like an old house shifting in the wind.

  A steady, creeping realization moves over me.

  With Hansley, despite the chaos that surrounded us, I felt safe, protected and cherished.

  Things got complicated. They did. But a man who’s learned from his past and wants to commit to me now is better than a man with no past and no desire for commitment either.

  The clouds part.

  Light shines through the room.

  The answer is blatantly obvious.

  In a fit of inspiration, I toss the divorce papers, tug on some sneakers and dash out the door. Twenty minutes later, I climb out of my Uber and stampede into the grand hotel where Hansley’s been staying.

  My chest heaves as I catch my breath.

  I bat away the strands of hair falling in front of my eyes.

  People in the lobby stare at me from the corner of their eyes. I know I probably look a mess. My bun’s flopping around like bunny ears and I’m wearing a stained hoodie with old sweats.

  Ignoring all the looks, I run to the concierge desk and grip the rim. The women behind the desk jump back, startled.

  “Ma’am, can we help you?”

  “Yes. I’m…” My hands shake. I don’t even know what to say.

  I don’t know what this is.

  A grand gesture?

  A last ditch effort to save my marriage?

  “Um,” I lick my lips, “I’m looking for…”

  “Hansley,” a new voice says.

  I glance to my left and notice a new woman who looks like she’s just coming on her shift. She’s dressed in a neat uniform. Big green eyes peers into me.

  “Do I… know you?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No. No.” She chuckles. "But I know you. Your husband talks about you all the time.”

  “What?”

  “You should know right?” One of the other workers punches the girl in her arm. “Since he’s always shooting you down.”

  My chest tightens. “You were flirting with my husband?”

  She raises her arms. “I didn’t make any progress.”

  Her brazenness annoys me, but it’s not important right now. Urgently, I ask, “Where is he?”

  “Mr. Nicholas checked out not too long ago.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  “Why aren’t you two living together if you’re so in love?” Brazen Girl asks.

  I turn away from her with a scoff and dial Brett. Running out of the hotel as the phone rings, I frantically search the street.

  The line connects.

  Brett’s voice rings out. “Hello?”

  “Brett. Hi. It’s Asia.” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. “Is Hansley at the office?”

  “No. He left a while ago. Said he had something important to do.”

  Something important? “Where?”

  “I don’t know. But he did mention that it was out of state.”

  “Out of…? Well, do you at least know when he’ll be back.”

  “Sorry.” Brett hesitates. “Is everything alright, Asia? I know you and Hansley… I know you’re getting divorced soon.”

  Tears flush my eyes. I don’t want to get divorced, but the person wh
o should hear that first is Hansley, not Brett.

  “Is Hansley not answering his phone or something?” Brett asks.

  “I wanted to surprise him.”

  “Oh.” Brett’s voice turns light. “Well, if I hear from him, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hang up.

  The house feels too empty so I don’t head straight there. Instead, I walk to a nearby park and sit on a bench, hoping nature will soothe the restlessness inside my heart.

  I feel like I’ve wasted so much time. Why did I let those stupid lists dictate who I should love? Why did I let fear destroy my marriage?

  I don’t want to live always striving for perfection anymore.

  I want love.

  Messy, complicated and difficult as it may be.

  I want the hard work and the passion.

  I want the commitment and the butterflies.

  I want it all.

  And I want it with Hansley.

  As night overtakes the city, I drag myself back home.

  The moment I open the door, my jaw drops and my heart jumps to my throat.

  Thirty-Four

  Hansley

  The door creaks open and Asia steps in wearily. My heart twists in pain when I see her slumped shoulders and the heavy cloud that seems to be dangling over her head.

  I wait impatiently for her to turn around.

  When she does, her eyes widen and her mouth falls open.

  I smile.

  Step toward her with a hand on the left lapel of my tux. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she croaks.

  Her eyes dip around the room.

  To the candles lit up on the floor.

  To the decorations that Venus, Tierra and the rest of the ladies created in the middle of my living room.

  To the large painting that Troy made just for us.

  “Hansley?” Asia whispers loudly to me, her eyes darting everywhere.

  I smirk, my heart filling with light from just the sight of her.

  “What’s going on?” she croaks.

  The answer to that question is simple.

  I woke the hell up.

  The thing about getting divorce papers personally delivered by a client of Make It Marriage is that they come with an extra dose of ‘reality check’.

  Elizabeth's words from our visit two days ago still ring in my ears, ‘are you just going to let her go?’

  The answer was no.