Trust Me

by Olivia Cunning

  knock sounded on the door.

  “Are you okay in there?” Gabe called.

  “F-fine,” she said, wiping away a fresh batch of tears.

  “I woke up to snuggle with my beautiful fiancée and found her missing.”

  Fiancée? So he hadn’t forgotten? It hadn’t just been something he’d said because he’d blown his load—as Nikki had not-so-delicately put it.

  “Can I come in?”

  She stood from the toilet and checked herself in the mirror. Would he be able to tell she’d been crying? And all because she’d doubted him so easily. God, she felt absolutely wretched for her lack of confidence in his words. She looked almost as bad as she felt. Should she tell him? Or would her lapse of faith hurt him? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But she didn’t want to lie to him either.

  “Do you really love me?” She felt stupid in her insecurity, but there it was staring her directly in the face through her own damned reflection.

  “Yes, I love you.”

  Her heart swelled. She closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath, but she never felt steady when it came to Gabe, so wasn’t sure why she bothered. “Then you can come in.”

  He opened the bathroom door, took one look at her, and stepped forward to drag her into his arms and hold her securely against his chest. “Why are you crying?”

  He smoothed her hair with one hand, the other pressing her close against him, and kissed her head.

  “Was,” she said. “I’m not crying anymore. Everything’s fine now.”

  “Why were you crying?” he rephrased his question.

  So she told him her entire conversation with Nikki. And it felt good to confide in him. To not have to hide her concerns, her insecurity.

  “You know what your problem is?” Gabe said when she’d finished her spiel.

  She leaned back and lifted an eyebrow at him. If he thought she’d let him use her insecurity against her, the man was mistaken. “My problem?”

  “You don’t have a ring.” He scooped up her left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the bare knuckle of her ring finger.

  “I don’t need a ring, Gabe. I just want you.”

  “You do need a ring. One that says my man loves me so much he emptied his bank account to buy a shiny lump of carbon atoms organized by nearly unbreakable tetrahedron covalent bonds.”

  “You mean a diamond,” she said, giggling because his inner nerd was showing.

  He nodded with a grin. “A great big one.”

  “How about a tiny one?” She pinched her fingers together and held them up. Only a sliver of light shone between their tips.

  “How about I surprise you? When I propose for real.”

  “For real?”

  He winked at her.

  “Gabe? You aren’t planning on embarrassing me, are you?”

  “Delighting you.”

  “Just promise not to empty out your bank account.”

  He scowled. “You’re not worried that I’m broke, are you?”

  She was an accountant, so it had crossed her mind. He’d mentioned the possibility that the band would be sued for canceling their tour and not fulfilling their record contract. She didn’t care if he didn’t have two dimes to rub together—she’d love him regardless of the number of digits in his bank balance—but she didn’t want to contribute to his financial worries because he thought she needed a ridiculously expensive ring.

  “Just be practical about it. I don’t need a ring at all, but if you insist, I’d be happier with something small.”

  “I’m getting married to my one,” he said, and his delighted smile made her heart fill to bursting. “Practical will not be a variable in this equation.”

  “Obviously.” Their relationship was progressing at the speed of light. Neither of them was being practical about being together, though both of them were typically practical people. “We haven’t even talked about the important things.”

  He lifted a brow. “Like what?”

  “Living arrangements, dates . . .” She felt her face flush before the next word even escaped her lips. “Babies.”

  He blinked and licked his lips. She got the feeling he wanted to bolt, but instead he took a step back, tugging her forward by the hand he still held. “I think we should discuss this in bed.”

  “Bed?” Though she doubted anything requiring reasoning skills could ever be accomplished when the two of them were in bed, she followed him out of the bathroom. “I don’t think I can make important decisions in bed.”

  “Then I’ll state my case, you state yours, and we’ll compromise.”

  She did love that he was as levelheaded as she was. Well, he was levelheaded except when he was angry. And in love.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed her ass to pull her to stand between his open legs. She stared down into his dreamy green eyes.

  “Would you rather go first, or should I?” he asked.

  She traced his lower lip with a fingertip, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that this man was hers. Not for one night—as had been her original plan when they’d met—but always. “You go first.”

  “Okay. I want you to live with me in Texas. We should get married as soon as possible. I have no preference on the where or the how, but soon.” He swallowed and glanced away for a second before meeting her eyes again. “I do want children, but I’d rather wait four or five years. Mostly so we can have an extended honeymoon.”

  The grin he offered made her toes curl into the low-pile carpet.

  “But also because my career is a little rocky and I’d want to be settled before we expand our family.”

  “What if Lindsey’s baby is yours?” There, she’d asked.

  “Not likely,” he said, “but . . .”

  He rubbed his lips together, and she could practically see the cogs turning in his head. She hoped he wouldn’t say what he thought she wanted him to say just to please her. This relationship would be built on trust, and that had to start with being truthful even if the truth hurt.

  “I’d still want things the way I just described, but I’d have to be a dad too. I couldn’t ignore any child I fathered. Now, what do you want?”

  To be the first woman to mother your children. And to create those children out of love not lust. “A real wedding, surrounded by family and friends. It doesn’t have to be huge. Actually, I prefer something small. But I don’t want to elope. I want to share the celebration with everyone I love.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  He grinned. “Glad we agree on that. Are you okay with moving to Texas? I know all your family lives in Kansas. Are you close?”

  She nodded. “I see them a couple of times a week, but I would love to move into your house in Texas. I’m not overly attached to my job or my apartment.” And then she remembered someone she was attached to. “I can’t leave Nikki there by herself.”

  Gabe squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m probably going to regret saying this, but we have plenty of room at my place. She could . . .” His lids squeezed even tighter. “. . . stay with us.”

  “You mean it?” Melanie grabbed him around the head and pressed his face against her chest.

  “Trial basis,” he said, his voice muffled by the boob against his lips.

  “Of course. She’ll be on her best behavior.” Why did it make her love him more when he was good to Nikki? She supposed it was because in her eyes, his tolerance of Nikki made him a good person. And given time, maybe Nikki and Gabe could become close friends. Assuming Nikki didn’t try to seduce him or something. That would end her trial-basis living arrangements right there.

  Melanie released his head and kissed his forehead. “I do love you.”

  “Does that mean you want to have my babies?”

  “I want to be the first and only woman to have your children.”

  “Two or three?”

  “If they’re like their father, I’d have a dozen.” Whe
n his face went ashen, she laughed. “I think three is a good compromise.”

  “Let’s see how the first one goes before we add to the brood.”

  “Good plan.”

  “And you’re okay with waiting?”

  “I’d start tomorrow if I could,” she admitted. She couldn’t wait to hold a little one that she and Gabe had created together.

  “This will require some compromise,” he said. “How about three years? I should be able to figure my future out by then.”

  “I thought I was your future.”

  “You are,” he said. “But I thought you might like to have a roof over your head and food in your belly.”

  She nodded, understanding his need to provide. “I can help with that, you know. How about we wait a year?”

  “I’m okay with that if the band is back together and stable.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “I don’t know if that will give me enough time to finish my degree and find a good job. I don’t know if I’ll be as stable as I’d like.”

  She stroked the soft fuzz that was already starting to grow on the sides of his scalp. “There’s no way to predict that, and if we wait too long, it might never happen. I can easily get a good job. My skills are in high demand. I can work as either an accountant or a business manager. I have plenty of experience in both.”

  “We could always play it by ear,” he said.

  Their eyes met, and they both laughed. They were a pair of planners, that much was clear. Playing anything by ear was highly unlikely.

  “When will you know if Lindsey’s baby is yours? That will likely throw a few more wrenches into our plans.”

  “Owen said something about her getting a blood test to determine paternity. We could know within a week.”

  “That soon?” Would that give her time to mentally prepare for the possibility that Gabe was going to be a father outside of their proposed timeline? But it was probably best to know as soon as possible so they could plan for a baby’s arrival, even if it wasn’t hers. Could she love a child that Gabe had fathered with another woman? Her heart froze over in ice at the very thought, but if confronted by a perfect tiny human that was half Gabe, she figured it would thaw instantly.

  “Do you think I’d feel some sort of attachment to Lindsey if she’s carrying my child?” Gabe asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her lower back. “I feel nothing for her. No affection. No animosity. Not even pity. Just a big hazy void of nothing. Maybe a touch of concern, but on her behalf, not mine. I don’t feel like it’s mine. There’s no connection.”

  “But you’d feel a connection with the baby if it’s yours, wouldn’t you?” Melanie asked. “Once it’s born, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “I assume so. It’s not something I have any experience with.”

  “Let’s worry about that bridge when we come to it.” Their eyes met, and they both laughed again. Being planners also made them both worriers. “Let’s try not to worry about it too much in any case.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  His hands slid from her lower back to cup her ass. He gave both cheeks a tight squeeze that made her ache for him.

  “So now can we use this bed for something other than important discussions of our future?”

  “What did you have in mind?” As if she didn’t already know.

  “We need to practice our baby-making skills.”

  She nipped his lip and straddled his lap. The tip of his cock pressed against her lower belly near the small diamond that dangled from her pierced belly button, and her breath caught as a knot of lust uncoiled within her. Would she ever be able to be in this man’s presence without wanting him buried balls deep inside her? She hoped not.

  “I do think I need a refresher course.” She giggled when he tumbled her onto the bed.

  “At some point tonight we’ll need to get our luggage out of the car. All of my hardware is in there.”

  “I think you’ll manage to get the job done without it.” She wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him down for a toe-curling kiss. His mouth moved along her jaw toward her ear.

  “How do you feel about sex swings?” he asked, his voice low and at almost a whisper.

  “Never been in one.”

  “With anal attachments. For him and her.”

  She laughed. “Only you would come up with something like that.”

  “You can’t hold it against me. You inspired the idea.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to try it.”

  “We’re going to have to put something in our wedding vows about prototypes.”

  She snorted, wondering how she could be turned on and amused at the same time. “About you inventing them or me using them?”

  “Both.”

  “If we do, I’m not inviting my parents to the ceremony.”

  He nipped her earlobe, which sent a spike of pleasure down the back of her neck. “I wanted to elope anyway.”

  “I want a real wedding, Gabriel,” she said, not willing to compromise on that particular point.

  “Oh no,” he said, grimacing. “She already knows how to get her way by using my full name.”

  It was that easy, was it? In that case . . .

  “Oh Gabriel.”

  “Yes, Melanie?”

  “My clit has a date with your tongue.”

  He grinned crookedly. “Well, my tongue sure doesn’t want to be late for that.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next afternoon, Gabe held Melanie’s hand as they made their way to the psych unit of the hospital. He’d been serious when he’d said that Nikki could stay with them, but as they left their cellphones in lockers and were checked for “potentially dangerous objects” before even being allowed on her floor, Gabe wondered if they were getting in over their heads. Maybe Nikki needed more than just a safe place and unconditional love. Maybe she needed intensive therapy. And padded walls.

  Nikki came out to meet them in a secure common area. When her gaze landed on Melanie, her expression transformed from misery to elation. Gabe smashed down an unwarranted pang of jealousy when the women embraced. He knew Melanie wasn’t interested in a relationship with Nikki, but he wasn’t so sure that Nikki would abide by that boundary.

  “I’m so glad to see you both,” Nikki said, reaching out of the hug she was still sharing with Mel to squeeze Gabe’s arm. “I hear you popped the question.”

  Gabe felt his face turn hot. Nikki never beat around the bush. He actually liked that about her. “I did.”

  “And you’re not going to back out?”

  Melanie’s jaw hardened. “Nikki.”

  “No,” Gabe said without hesitation.

  “You’d better not. Because if you break her heart—”

  “I won’t.”

  Melanie leaned back to take a hard look at Nikki. She touched the nearly faded bruise on her cheek—the last visible reminder of what that fucking asshole in New Orleans had done to her. Gabe couldn’t keep his hands from balling into fists as a fresh surge of rage flooded him. That hollow look in her blue eyes—lessened only when her gaze was fixed on Melanie—might not ever fade completely.

  “So what have the doctors been saying?” Melanie said, drawing Nikki into a chair and sitting beside her. She held one of Nikki’s hands between hers.

  Nikki ducked her head. “Sex addiction and compulsive risk-seeking behavior. Both remnants of what Daddy did to me.”