by Nia Arthurs
“Elizabeth,” Brogan grinds out my name through clenched teeth, “can I see you in the room for a minute?”
“Oh, I’m almost done here. You lovebirds can have the kitchen. I’ll be meditating in my room.”
“It’s fine, Gwen. We can—”
“No, stay. Enjoy breakfast.” She winks. “I won’t come out no matter what I hear.”
Heat burns my cheeks.
Does she think we’ll—?
In the kitchen?
My heart thunders.
Gwen scampers away and her son charges in.
Each step is swift.
Determined.
I inch back.
He stops in front of me, his body hovering over mine. I force my neck back so I can look at his thunderous expression head-on.
“What are you doing?” I snap, more irritated with my body’s rising temperature than with his invasion of my personal space.
“Steph is off-limits.”
“Sorry. Steph? Who’s that? I don’t think you’ve mentioned her before. You haven’t mentioned a lot of things.”
“Elizabeth,” he growls.
The dark, dangerous way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. I push the feeling aside and stand to my feet, forcing him to back up and make room for me.
“Are you going to tell me?”
His nostrils flare.
He goes silent.
Huffing in annoyance, I shake my head. “I don’t know anything because you don’t talk to me.”
“That’s not part of our agreement.”
“You ordering me around isn’t a part of our agreement either, buddy. I signed up to be your wife,” I poke his chest. “Not your slave.”
He presses forward.
His huge, dominating presence fills my space.
I don’t back down. Even if I’m intimidated, I hold my ground and stare my big, hulking husband down.
The tension between us is as taunt as a guitar string.
“Don’t cross the line,” Brogan snarls.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
I narrow my eyes. Step closer. “She means a lot to you.”
He glowers in response.
“If you don’t want me to meet her because you don’t want her to get confused, I’ll buy that.” I tap his chest. “But I don’t think that’s it, Brogan.”
“You think you’re so smart?”
“I think,” I lift my chin, “you don’t want me poking around in your heart. In the places where you bleed and dream and hurt. You don’t want me anywhere near it because you’re trying to protect you, not her.”
He growls again.
It’s a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest.
Anger flashes blue lightning through his eyes.
I’m trembling—from fear and desire—but my conviction holds me steady.
His eyes dip to my lips.
Snaps of electricity fill the air.
He moves in suddenly.
Grabs my face.
Drags me close to him.
I fight back.
No.
He’s not going to unleash his fury like that.
I won’t let him vent on me with his kisses.
I won’t let him weaponize our lust.
I slam my hands against his chest and push him back. “Tell me, Brogan. Who are you really trying to protect? Huh?”
He stares me down.
“Tell me!”
With an angry curse, Brogan turns swiftly on his heels and storms through the door.
Nineteen
Brogan
I pace Lucas’s office, my eyes darting from his academic certificates on the wall to the picture frames of him, his brother Jonas and his girlfriend Ina.
“Man, slow down.” Lucas groans. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“She’s the damn headache,” I snarl.
He rolls his eyes. “So your wife wants to meet Steph. Of course she does. Steph’s amazing.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Lucas’s thick brown hair flops over his forehead. “Because I’m not really understanding the problem.”
“Elizabeth can’t meet Steph. She’ll—she’ll confuse her.”
“What do you mean ‘confuse her’?” Lucas wrinkles his brows.
“I don’t have to spell it out for you.”
“You think Steph will be upset that you remarried?”
“Maybe.”
“Bull.”
I stop. Glare at Lucas. “You don’t know that.”
“Ina says Steph has been bugging her about the Make It Marriage ladies for weeks now. She wants them to set you up with someone. Does that sound like a child terrified of her favorite uncle getting married again?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Come on, Brogan.”
“I’m being honest!”
“She’s a smart kid. Smarter than most adults. She’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What I know is that you’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Lucas sits straight up. “What is going on with you?”
I let out a breath. “It’s Elizabeth.”
“What about her?”
“She’s so…” I shake my head, “frustrating.”
“Okay…”
“She’s stubborn. A know-it-all. Doesn’t have a damn clue when to stop pushing—“
“Brogan.”
“What?”
He eases back in his chair. “You like her.”
Lucas’s words crash into me.
I halt in my tracks.
He folds his arms across his chest, looking so freaking smug I want to punch him straight up the chin.
I bark out a laugh instead. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s not the worse thing in the world to fall in love with your wife.”
“You’re a damn comic.”
“I’m being serious.”
“You know my ability to love got burned to a crisp along with everything else in that fire.”
Lucas’s lips tighten.
“I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I blink in astonishment. “What kind of question is that, Lucas?”
“Tell me.”
“You know why. Lana married me for my grandmother’s money. She was miserable living with me and cheated every chance she could get. I came home to her every evening, thinking I was living the dream, not knowing there was some other guy’s scent drying on my bed sheets. Why the hell would I sign myself up for that nightmare again?”
“Take it from me, Brogan. Love doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes, it strikes without you realizing.”
“You sound like an idiot.”
“So do you.” He arches both eyebrows. “It’s as plain as day, bro. You’re so far gone that it’s painful to watch.”
I scoff. “I barely know the woman.”
“So?”
“We met less than a week ago.”
“I fell in love with Ina that first night.”
“That’s different.”
Lucas shakes his head. “Why can’t you let yourself love her?”
“I’m telling you. You’re so off base you’re hitting Jupiter.” I resume my pacing.
“Brogan, what happened with Lana wasn’t your fault. You can’t keep punishing yourself—”
I slant him a blistering stare. “I’m not punishing myself. I’m embracing the truth. I’m walking with my eyes blasted open for the first time in my life. I don’t need anybody. Keeping Steph alive is all that matters. I don’t give a damn about anything else. And what? Love?” I snarl. “Love is nothing but a waste of time. It’s a big fat lie people tell themselves to feel less lonely. It’s a trap women set to get what they want. Love? It’s the biggest scam.”
“You don’t believe that.”
&n
bsp; I turn and take giant steps to the door as irritation flares in me. “It was a mistake to come here. Forget I said anything.”
“Brogan.”
My hands freeze as they flatten over the doorknob.
“You’re right. You don’t care. Not unless you have to. You’ve closed yourself off so that nothing else matters and nothing can get to you. So ask yourself… why is Elizabeth rubbing you the wrong way? Why do you care if she’s stubborn or if she wants to meet Steph? Answer that for yourself and you’ll see that I’m not so far off.”
I grit my teeth.
Wrench the door open.
Stalk out.
As I get in the car, I battle the mixed bag of emotions that pour over me. Anger. Frustration. Annoyance. Unease.
Damn.
Lucas put that tiny seed of doubt in my head and now I can’t shake it loose.
No woman has made me feel this off-kilter before.
Not even Lana.
He’s right about that.
I’ve never cared.
Not once since the divorce.
I never let anyone close enough to rattle me.
But Elizabeth?
Even when I’m pissed off, I want to kiss her.
I’m not whole enough to offer anything, but I still want to make her smile.
She’s exasperating.
Frustrating.
A damn pain in the butt.
But she’s…
I groan loudly.
Slap my hand against the steering wheel.
Shake my head.
I can’t.
It’s—
No.
There’s no way it’s love.
I check my watch.
It’s almost time for me to meet Mom at the hospital.
I cringe when I think about seeing Elizabeth there. Introducing her to Steph. Letting her into a part of my life that I keep heavy metal barriers on so no one can move in.
I told Elizabeth I better not see her at the hospital but, to that stubborn woman, I might as well have asked her to show up with bells on.
Biting back a curse, I start to drive.
A sleek SUV pulls up to the children’s hospital the same time I do. Gerard hops out and tips his hat to me as he hustles to the back and opens the door for my mother.
She thanks him with a flirty smile, smoothing a lock of her long, red hair behind her ear.
Gerard blushes.
I hear a second door slam and jerk my attention away from them.
Elizabeth rounds the hood.
Her brown eyes shoot daggers at me.
Pink lips—usually soft and glossy—are painted red and fall into a harsh frown.
The breeze tousles her curly brown hair.
Lifts the hem of her fitted green dress.
Sweeps aside the shoulder-length brown curls springing from her head.
She marches forward.
Tries to walk past me.
I slip an arm around her waist and pull her in.
Her gasp of surprise hits my chest.
Makes my heart thunder.
Makes my pulse pick up.
Makes my pants tighten.
“I thought I told you not to show up,” I growl.
“It’s good to see you too, honey.”
“Go home.”
“Or what?” She presses her body to mine, unconsciously rubbing against me. “You’ll punish me?”
I narrow my eyes.
Damn.
I want to drag her sexy little body in the back of my car and give her exactly what she’s asking for.
Elizabeth arches an eyebrow daringly.
Heat strikes my chest like a congo drum.
“Oh look at them,” Mom coos behind us. “Shall I remind you two that you’re in public?” She chuckles and says fondly, “Ah, to be young and in love.”
“What are you talking about, Gwen? You’re still young,” Gerard says.
Mom giggles. “Oh stop it.”
I step away from Elizabeth.
Away from the fire of rage and lust she, exclusively, stirs in me.
Turning to face my mother and Gerard, I say, “There’s been a change of plans. Elizabeth is needed back at the office.”
“What?” Mom slants me disappointed eyes.
“Babe,” Elizabeth squeezes my arm in a tight grip, “we left Levy to take care of that, remember? Now stop stalling. Let’s go inside.”
I drag her back. “Elizabeth.”
“Oh, stop it you two.” Mom hooks Elizabeth’s arm and steers her away from me. “Brogan, you need to calm down. You can drag Elizabeth to an empty storage closet and have your private moment after we’ve visited with Steph.”
Elizabeth looks horrified. “That’s not—”
“I know. I know. I’ll pretend I can’t see how much you want each other. Now let’s hurry up before we miss her.” Mom ducks her head close to Elizabeth and murmurs, “Steph’s a busy girl. Always running around doing something.”
I glare in Elizabeth’s direction.
She sticks her tongue out at me before walking away.
“Here.” A water bottle magically appears in front of me. I glance to the left and see Gerard giving me a knowing look. He shakes the water. “Take it. Cool down.”
“I’m good.”
He clears his throat. Gestures to my pants.
Damn.
Okay.
So I’m not as cool as I could be.
I turn and adjust myself.
Gerard chuckles. “I see you and Mrs. Harrington are getting along just fine.”
I grit my teeth and grab the water bottle from him, chugging it down.
When I don’t answer, Gerard returns to the truck. I wipe my wet mouth with the back of my hand and watch as Mom and Elizabeth disappear inside the hospital.
So she gets me excited.
So I want my hands all over that soft little body.
Want my fingers creeping up those thighs.
Want her begging for more as I tease her.
But that’s not love.
That’s… something else.
Something completely different.
The only thing I feel for Elizabeth in the scrap of my heart that survived the flames is frustration. It’s not deeper and it sure as hell isn’t sweeter than that.
Twenty
Elizabeth
Gwen leads me through a maze of hallways, her steps light and her smile wide as she greets all the nurses and doctors.
“Do you know those people?” I ask quietly.
“Oh heaven’s no.” She shrugs. “But these are the warriors standing between Steph and Death. I can’t do much, but I’ll at least acknowledge them.”
I nod in quiet understanding.
“Ah, here we are.” She points up at the sign. “The nurse said she was coloring in the play room.”
Gwen pushes the door open.
We step into a large, play area. There’s a full swing-set—complete with a rubber slide, seesaw, and monkey bars. Soft, puzzle-shaped mats cover the floor.
Giant posters of smiling children are printed on the green, red and yellow walls. The kids in the pictures have shaved heads, are in wheelchairs and one is an amputee. It’s a stunning collage of inclusion, but even as I smile, sorrow creeps in.
These brave, beautiful kids.
It’s devastating enough to go through medical issues as an adult. I can’t imagine the toll it must take on a child.
Despite the bright colors and play equipment, the air feels heavy.
The room is quiet.
Subdued.
Kids are crawling all over, running and laughing. But it’s strained. As if they don’t have the energy to shriek with glee and scream like other kids. Or maybe they’ve been so conditioned to hospital life that they move quietly so they don’t disturb anyone else.
Both options have me fighting back tears.
“Oh there she is!” Gwen drags me forward. “Steph!”
A little
girl with brown eyes, chubby cheeks and long black hair glances up.
The moment she sees Gwen, she hops to her feet. “Granny!”
“Hey, baby!” Gwen dips to one knee and spreads her arms wide. “Come here!”
The little girl races forward, her hair streaming behind her. At first glance, she looks like a normal kid, but on closer inspection I notice the tubes sneaking out of her hospital gown.
Gwen hugs Steph tight. When they’ve exchanged greetings, she pushes the little girl back. “I brought someone to meet you.”
“Hi.” I wave awkwardly.
Big, intelligent eyes take me in. “Hello, I’m Stephanie Phyllis.”
“I’m Elizabeth Garcia.”
“She’s a… friend of your uncle’s,” Gwen says hesitantly, looking to me for approval.
I nod.
My argument with Brogan today—while I still believe that he was totally out of order to tell me what to do—revealed his discomfort with my meeting Steph as his wife.
So I’m not.
I’m meeting her as his friend.
That’s a good enough compromise.
If he still has a problem, well, he can stuff it. I respect our agreement, but I’m not going to bow to everything he wants. I’ll still be Elizabeth after our divorce and I see no reason to change who I am.
“Elizabeth, you said?” Steph lifts her chin in a way that’s very grown up.
“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
She looks me up and down. “Would you come and sit over here?”
“Over there?” I point to the bench she’d been coloring on.
Steph gives me a dignified nod.
I glance back at Gwen, a questioning look in my eyes. She smiles and gestures for me to follow the kid. I do, uncertainly taking a seat in a bench that’s way too small and low for me. Setting my purse by my feet, I wait for Steph to settle herself.
Steph folds her hands together. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about divorce?”
“Divorce?” I shoot another stunned look at Gwen.
Is this the kind of conversation children have nowadays?
“I mean a man who’s been divorced before.” She leans forward.
“Uh… I think I would be okay. If that man were a nice man.”
“What if he had burn scars?”
“Scars?”