To Have and to Hate

by R.S. Grey

  “Should we go back to my hotel?” he asks with tempting eyes.

  I swallow and then shift my chin in the direction of the river.

  “Okay, but let’s walk. It’s early still, and I’ve never walked around Paris at night.”

  He nods and holds his hand out for me. I let him lead me across the street onto the sidewalk that runs alongside the riverbank. We don’t talk at first, but the night is far from silent. An ambulance sounds in the distance, a marked reminder that we’re not in the States. There are bursts of chatter and errant pieces of French as we pass groups. Boats cross paths on the river, carrying passengers along for nighttime cruises.

  I’m soaking it all in, appreciating every little detail, all the while keeping my attention on Walt. His large hand is steady and calm, gripping mine with ease. He walks slower than he would normally, I think, trying to ensure I don’t feel rushed.

  I eventually ask him about his flight over and about the conference in California. He asks me about my week in Paris and what it was like preparing for my show. The conversation is so far from what I want to be discussing, it doesn’t even feel quite relevant. Who cares about flights and weeks we spent away from each other?

  My nerves well up inside me as we walk. I seem to wobble more with every step. Walt tells me his hotel isn’t too far up ahead.

  “Are you still okay with walking?” he asks.

  It’s an odd feeling: I could walk forever, and yet at the same time, I have the ridiculous urge to run the last few yards. It’s the warring conflict inside me, the worry mingling with hope.

  I’m not surprised to find his hotel is much nicer even than where I’ve been staying. Its lobby is filled with marble, the coffered ceilings dotted with heavy crystal chandeliers. Walt knows just where to take me, right to the elevators and up to the fifth floor.

  His room is at the end of the hall. He swipes his keycard, and a set of double doors open up to a large suite with a full dining area, kitchenette, living room, and side bedroom tucked behind a closed door.

  I could spend an hour looking over the room, studying the art and interior design. It’s wonderful, all of it done in neutral shades of cream and black, antique pieces blended with modern furniture. Then I turn to Walt to see him tug a hand through his hair, and I know we’ve put off the inevitable long enough.

  “I don’t suppose I’ll ever be fully prepared for this conversation, so we might as well have it. I’ll treat it like I’m ripping off a Band-Aid.”

  His brows scrunch together in confusion. “Do you think it will be so bad?”

  My stomach twists into a knot. “Life has conditioned me to prepare for the worst, so that’s exactly what I’ve done this week. I squashed every instance of hope, trying so hard to keep my wits about me.”

  His lips tip into a wonderfully handsome smile. “Don’t you think it’s time to put away sense? I’ve flown to Paris, Elizabeth. I came here to talk to you. Do you think I would have done that if I were bringing bad news?”

  “Of course not.”

  He steps toward me, and I hold perfectly still.

  “So then won’t you relax just a little? You’re hovering near the door like you’re about to bolt.”

  I hadn’t realized that was the case. I step further inside the suite, trying to slow my racing heart.

  “Here,” he says, holding his hand out for the flowers. “Let me put these in water.”

  There’s a vase already prepared on a side table, and he unwraps the flowers from their paper and drops them inside.

  After that, he turns back to me, locks his gaze with mine, and asks simply, “How is someone supposed to confess their love? Should I have ordered up dinner or dessert for us? Have you eaten? I haven’t even thought to ask.”

  What?!

  “Walt—”

  “I just, I’m not a man who’s made a habit out of telling people I love them. I can’t remember the last time I said it even to Matthew, so I’m likely getting this all wrong.”

  I open my mouth to try to speak again, but he beats me to it.

  “I do…love you though, Elizabeth. In spite of how we started. In spite of our rough beginning—my rough beginning.”

  He looks so deeply troubled by his confession I can’t help but laugh.

  He takes it wrong. With a sigh, he moves toward a phone sitting beside a huge vase of white peonies. “God, I knew I would get it wrong. Here, let me order up some champagne and food. Do you like steak?”

  He lifts the phone and starts to dial, and I race over to stop him, taking the phone from his hand and setting it back down.

  “Walt—”

  “Are you not hungry?” he asks, sounding dumbfounded.

  “Walt,” I say again, trying to get him to look at me.

  When he finally does, I see worry etched on his chiseled features.

  “You love me?”

  He frowns. “I just said I do.”

  Another laugh bursts out of me. “You don’t have to look so sad about it.”

  “I’m not sad at all,” he says, rushing the words out. “I’m…”

  “Scared.”

  He inhales a deep breath, pinching his eyes closed.

  It’s such a strange role reversal to stand in front of him with my chin lifted in confidence, to be the one to tip up onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “I love you too,” I whisper against him.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he says, extricating himself from my hold and stepping back again.

  My declaration doesn’t ease his worry the way I thought it would.

  Now I’m the one starting to get nervous again. What’s wrong? What could be so bad?

  “That’s only part of it, I’m afraid,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Now he’s starting to pace, really working himself up. “Our marriage…I don’t need to remind you that it started as more of a contractual agreement. A marriage of convenience.”

  I nod for him to continue.

  “From the start, my intention was to get you out of this situation, to set you free however I could. I never wanted to keep you forced into anything for long, especially after hearing you discuss things with your mom and sister. That’s why I was working with my lawyers. It’s why I said what I did in the library the other night. I thought you wanted out of this arrangement.”

  Despite everything, it still hurts to hear him mention the end of our marriage, sham or not.

  “But…listening to you on the phone the other night, being without you these last few weeks…”

  He lets his sentence dangle as he continues pacing, his footsteps picking up as he rubs his face.

  “Please just say it!”

  He jerks to a stop and abruptly turns toward me. “I don’t want a divorce. I want this to be a real marriage, Elizabeth. I want you as my wife. Now and forever.”

  A sound spills out of me, half laugh and half sob. I slap a hand over my mouth as Walt rushes over to me.

  “Tell me you want the same thing,” he says, cradling my neck, bending to meet my eye. “Please.”

  I nod quickly, too overcome to speak.

  I move my hand and he leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth, sealing our fate. I kiss him back, stepping into him, pressing against his body. His hands move from my neck, rolling down my body, squeezing my waist so he can direct me back toward the bedroom. We kiss as we walk, hurried and crazed. After two weeks apart, neither one of us wants to let go of the other. He reaches back and opens the door to the suite’s bedroom.

  “Elizabeth?” he asks, seeking consent.

  I kiss him more, over his mouth and his cheeks. I taste a salty tear and I realize he might be crying too. I tell him again that I love him as he starts to undress me, making quick work of my dress and my boots. His suit proves more difficult. I yank on the buttons and only partially succeed in undressing him before we tumble back onto the bed.

  God, I love him. I love his body. I love the weight of his hands as they skim acr
oss my bare skin. I love the way he kisses a path along my navel and hip, the feel of his tongue as he parts my thighs and settles between them.

  He stays there until I’m so worked up I’m tingling, until I’m crying out and covering my mouth. I tug at his hair and his fingers dig into my skin, keeping me splayed out for him as he sits up. Realization dawns on his face as he tells me he forgot to pack condoms.

  There’s a moment of hesitation, a look shared between us.

  I don’t care one bit. Not in the least.

  When I tell him that, he crawls up and over me, drops his mouth to mine, and kisses me hard. When he breaks off the kiss, he starts to whisper reverently, and the words are hard to make out at first. Then I realize he’s saying vows, promising to have and to hold me, to cherish me, to keep me in sickness and in health. He repeats all the words he didn’t mean when we were in the courtroom as he settles his weight over me and presses inside me gently, sealing us together.

  I look up at him, my vision cloudy with tears.

  “As long as we both shall live,” I add with a deliriously happy smile.

  “As long as we both shall live,” he confirms before leaning down and capturing my lips.

  Epilogue

  Walt

  I snap a photo with my phone as Elizabeth walks up ahead of me with our two daughters. They’re being silly, holding hands and exaggeratingly swinging their arms back and forth. Elizabeth walks in the middle, Lana and Isabelle on either side of her. The twins look so much like Elizabeth, and they take after her too. Their personalities are similar—they’re all talkers, so I barely get a word in edgewise in our house.

  We’re in Paris, on a vacation we’ve been looking forward to for almost a year. There’s a temporary Cézanne exhibit at the d’Orsay I knew Elizabeth would love. I surprised her with tickets for our anniversary last year.

  The girls are probably too young to really appreciate the trip they’re on, but Elizabeth is in heaven being here in her favorite city with our daughters.

  It’s a perfect spring day, and the city is flooded with people eager to appreciate it.

  The museum is just up ahead with a line formed out front. Soon, we’ll join it.

  Isabelle looks back, waving for me to catch up. “You’re walking too slow, Dad!”

  I pull a silly face, and she laughs.

  Lana turns and comes back to get me, grabbing my hand so she can tug me along. “Mommy says we can get a treat after the museum. Can we?”

  “If Mom says so.”

  “She did.”

  Then it’s law.

  At least, that’s how it works in our house.

  Lana and I catch up to Elizabeth and Isabelle at the end of the line to enter the museum. Elizabeth turns and smiles, and the sun highlights the vibrant green color of her eyes. Before I can stop myself, I lean in to kiss her and, as expected, our children act as if they’ve never seen anything more disgusting in their young lives.

  “Grown-ups should not kiss,” Isabelle says with a facts-are-facts tone.

  “It’s so gross!” Lana chimes in.

  Elizabeth winks at me. “Hear that? We’re gross.”

  “Oh, how the times have changed,” I say, leading us forward as the line shifts.

  I wrap my arm around her waist, and she leans into me.

  “My feet are killing me,” she laments.

  “We can get a cab back to the hotel.”

  “Not until after we get a treat!” Lana reminds me.

  “Crepes?” Elizabeth asks, tilting her head to look up at me.

  “We haven’t been to Bontemps yet,” I point out. “It’s just over in the third arrondissement.”

  “Is that where we went—”

  “The day after your show,” I say with a nod.

  She smiles at the memory. “They had the best patisserie.”

  It feels like just yesterday that we were in Paris for the first time. We spent a week here together after I surprised her at her show. At first, we stayed holed up in our hotel room, barely leaving our bed. I would have been just fine staying there forever, but Elizabeth eventually coaxed me up and out into the city. We went to the museums, rode the train out to Versailles, and ate lazy dinners by the Seine. We walked and talked, meandering aimlessly through the city, getting lost in different arrondissements and asking for directions in poor French. One morning, Elizabeth left a note on my pillow with directions for where I should meet her for a late breakfast. The address didn’t ring any bells as I got dressed and headed out into the city. I walked slowly, inexplicably lonely after only being away from Elizabeth for a short while. It struck me then how vital she’d become to my life.

  There was a slight breeze on that spring morning, just enough to ruffle my hair as I turned the corner and confirmed I was at the location where she’d told me to meet her. I looked at the building behind me, though the shop was still closed. Then I turned and faced the pedestrian bridge crossing the Seine and saw Elizabeth standing midway down it beside a wrought iron lamp post.

  She smiled as she saw me start to walk in her direction.

  There were already tourists out, flocking to the bridge to take pictures.

  When I reached Elizabeth, she smiled and asked me if I knew where I was standing.

  I looked around me, trying to determine what she was hinting at. There was the Louvre on the other end of the bridge and the Île de la Cité with Notre-Dame towering over the skyline to our right.

  “This is Lovers Bridge,” she said, taking pity on me. “Remember? There used to be thousands of padlocks attached on the side rails before the city had to remove them. They were breaking the bridge. Can you imagine? All that love was pretty heavy, I guess.”

  I hummed in realization. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “It’s not as iconic now.” She shrugged. “Just a regular ol’ bridge. I’d forgotten that when I hatched my plan this morning.”

  My brows furrowed in confusion as she smiled and unfurled her hand.

  “I’d get down on one knee, but since we’re already married, I’m not sure what the protocol is for this sort of thing,” she said with a teasing smile as she held up a simple antique gold band.

  Her hand was trembling with nerves.

  I stood, staring down at it, at a loss for words.

  “It’s a wedding band,” she said, holding it closer to me. “For you.”

  That ring is still on my left hand. A few years back, I had to take it in and have it repaired. It’d become so thin in one spot I was scared it would break. The jeweler replaced that part of the band with a new thicker piece of gold. At the time, Elizabeth suggested I just get an upgrade. I didn’t want an upgrade.

  I never imagined I’d be standing here today, a decade since I first married Elizabeth at the courthouse. I’ll never forget walking up and seeing her that day clad in her short dress and heavy boots. She should have run for the hills when I approached, but she looked up at me, her green eyes shining. She was so unabashedly hopeful, so stubborn. I thought of her constantly, even in the early days, even before she moved into my apartment.

  I’ve told her that before, shared with her how quickly I developed feelings for her. She laughs every time I remind her, like it shocks her all over again.

  “You sure didn’t act like it!” she loves to tell me.

  Yes well, what was I supposed to do? It was scary even to me.

  She and I were meant to have an easy arrangement. I was going to change the trust, dissolve our marriage, and settle back into life as I knew it. She was supposed to follow the rules of the contract and contact me only in case of emergency, not move into my spare bedroom and call me out on my grumpiness.

  I’m glad every damn day that she didn’t back down when she should have.

  “Do you remember what we ate there last time?” she asks now, referring to Bontemps. “I remember they had a chocolate tart that we fought over, right? God it was so good.”

  I nod, smiling down at her.


  “What?” she says, poking my stomach. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Come on, the line’s moving.”

  “Oh-kay weirdo.”

  I lean down and kiss her hair, tightening my arm around her.

  “I love you,” she tells me with an easy smile.

  “I love you too.”

  The girls groan.

  “GUYS! Please stooop!”

  I hope you enjoyed TO HAVE AND TO HATE. For more fun romance, continue reading for a sample of my top 15 Amazon bestseller MAKE ME BAD!

  SYNOPSIS

  I was issued a warning: stay away from Ben Rosenberg.

  As Clifton Cove's resident "king", he thinks he's entitled to anyone and anything.

  The trouble is, I've spent my whole life following the rules and playing it safe. I know what it feels like to be the good girl. I'm the police chief's daughter and a librarian—for adorable children, no less.

  An all-nighter with a fictional hunk is about as exciting as my life gets until one day, fate decides to take pity on me and shove me straight into the path of Mr. Off-Limits himself.

  Just as I suspected, every inch of him promises to be my demise. Up close, he's tall, menacing—a lawyer who looks like he'll bite. A well-behaved girl would do as she's told and avoid him at all costs, but I'm overdue for a little rebellion.

  So, I ignore the warning and throw caution to the wind. But Ben doesn't just nudge me out of my comfort zone—he thrusts me into a dark corner and presses his hard body against mine, covering my mouth with his hand to ensure we don't get caught sneaking around. In that moment, I finally understand why everyone thinks he's going to ruin me.