Make Me

by Tessa Bailey

  “Okay,” Abby whispered, somehow already knowing she was toast.

  Alec was silent a moment. “Our mother, she was depressed. Severely. My father didn’t understand, didn’t get her the help she needed. He worked all day. I cut school and dicked around, so I wouldn’t have to go home.” He sucked in a breath. “It was Russell with her most of the time. Listening to her cry. Making sure she ate enough food before she started drinking . . . he was the one who found her after the accident. And it affected him. We didn’t get him the help he needed, either.” He looked away. “He was the bravest one of us three, but that doesn’t mean he’s not scared. Scared of its happening again.”

  The summer sun held no warmth as Abby processed Alec’s words. Her hands rose on their own, hugging the opposite elbows to keep herself from shattering. He’d told her only half the story that night in the water. Why? She would have understood everything if he’d just been honest. His insecurities made sense now. It had never been entirely about her money, even if he’d given that reason to himself. It had mostly been about her happiness. And she’d thrown him out before he could fully explain.

  Oh God, she needed to see him. Abby realized she’d said the words out loud, when Alec nodded. “If you don’t mind my being bossy, going now might be the best course of action.”

  Her pulse skipped a beat. “Why?”

  “He’s selling the house. That jerk moves fast.” He checked his watch, as if he hadn’t just ripped Abby’s chest wide open and pulled out her beating heart. “There’s an open house in forty-five minutes.”

  Through the urgency, Abby felt a sense of clarity as she ran beside Alec toward the truck he indicated. She knew exactly what she had to do. As soon as Alec pulled onto Ninth Avenue, she took out her phone and started dialing.

  Chapter 20

  RUSSELL SAT ON the front porch of his house, wishing it were raining. The fact that is was eighty degrees without a cloud in the sky was some kind of fucked-up business when he felt flattened. He’d unlocked the front door for the Realtor so she could set up flowers for the open house although why flowers would convince someone to buy a house was beyond him. It should have bothered him that the Realtor had only hummed absently when he mentioned the custom banister, the restored crown molding. It should have, but it didn’t. He’d only done those things for one person, so if the Realtor thought a pack of daisies would sell the damn place instead of his hard work, he couldn’t find the strength to care.

  The last ten days had been spent painting, making some final tweaks to the interior, and signing paperwork to get the house on the market. Those things should have distracted him from thoughts of Abby, but she’d been there, perched on his shoulder through each task. Sometimes she took mercy on him and talked in his ear the way she used to, asking him why he chose certain shades of paint or making adorable observations about his technique. Other times, he could only see her as she’d been in the bathroom, disappointed in him. He’d known that look a lot in his life, but coming from her, it had felt like a shotgun shell entering his sternum.

  Jesus, he missed her. Not a day in his life would pass where he wouldn’t. Even if by some miracle, they were able to hang out again as friends, the missing would only intensify. Because he’d see her and know what could have been if he’d given Abby enough credit to make her own choices. If he hadn’t been so focused on not losing her rather than keeping her. Holding her close where she was supposed to be.

  He registered the familiar sound of Alec’s truck screeching to a stop at the curb but didn’t look up. Alec had done a lot of hovering since last Friday night and frankly, Russell was growing weary of it. They weren’t exactly adept at expressing their feelings, so there’d mainly been a lot of beer drinking and uncomfortable speculating about the Yankees new left-handed pitcher. Abby had been there through all of it, reminding him of the times she’d taken the first sip of his beer. Or the time he’d pitched to her at Honey’s baseball field, and she’d run the wrong direction around the bases. Everything reminded him of her. Everything.

  “Russell?”

  There she was again, talking into his ear. She sounded annoyed this time around, but he’d take whatever she dished out.

  “Russell.”

  His chin jerked up and . . . there was Abby. Standing at the end of his stone walkway. Oh God, had he graduated to hallucinations. Maybe beer for breakfast hadn’t been a good idea after all. It had sped up his descent into total madness. Still, he took in every detail of the mirage with greedy eyes, starting at the white sandals that showed her toes and scaling her legs. She wore a red-and-white-checkered dress he’d never seen before, which was odd. Usually, he pictured her in all white or yellow.

  “I can’t believe you’re selling this house. After all the hard work you put in.” Abby the Apparition came toward Russell on the path, and he held his breath, worried that if he moved, she would vanish. Right before she reached him, her attention was snagged by the For Sale sign posted in the yard. Russell watched in amazement as she marched toward the sign . . . and kicked the white pole holding it upright. She kicked it and kicked it until it fell over. Holy shit, she’s real. She’s here. Russell came to his feet slowly and watched real Abby—his sweet Abby—beat the hell out of the sign, cursing in Italian as she went. “I won’t let you lose this house, Russell. You’re staying. So just deal with it.”

  When Russell finally found his voice, it sounded rusty. “I don’t want the house.”

  “Yes, you do. I saw how proud you were of it. I saw.” She finally succeeded in knocking the sign over. Then she blew out a breath, smoothed her skirt, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “And you should be proud of it. All that work . . . the office, the custom banister—”

  “You noticed the banister?”

  “I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am. Even if I was when it came to you.” She turned and traded a nod with Alec, who turned and went back to his car with a shit-eating grin that Russell was too distracted to analyze. Abby. She was right there. And she sure as hell wasn’t there for a friendly chat. “Why are you selling it? Why?”

  Honesty exploded out of him. He never thought he’d get the chance to be truthful with her again and wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. Anything to keep her standing in front of him a little longer. “Without you, Abby, this house is just some fucking wood I nailed together. It’s meaningless.” He swallowed hard. “Do you know when I started renovating this place?”

  Her arms had uncrossed and dropped to her sides. “When?” she whispered.

  “The day after we met, angel. The next damn day.” He took a step in her direction, breathing a sigh of relief when she stayed put. “After my father left, it was just sitting here, waiting for us to sell it. But suddenly, I couldn’t. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I could picture us in these rooms. I could see you coming down the stairs in that robe hanging in your bedroom. The one with the flowers on it.”

  “It’s a kimono,” she said, so softly he barely heard her.

  “Okay.” He wanted to reach out and grab her but managed to hold back. She needed to hear everything. Deserved everything he’d been holding inside. “I love you, Abby. I’ve loved you. I didn’t realize saying that might be all you needed to hear because I only understood action. If I were a smarter man, I would have said the words a million times. I’ve loved you. I’ve loved you. I’ve loved you. And this house is useless unless you’re inside it to make memories with me.” He laid a fist over his heart. “My memories were supposed to be with you.”

  She didn’t move. Or speak. For a really long time. And that was a goddamn blessing for Russell because it meant he got to be with Abby. Got to look at her. If he tried really hard, he could even catch a hint of white-grape sunlight on the summer breeze. His hands shook with the desire to touch her, so he shoved them into his jeans pockets. He’d barely started cataloging every detail of her face when she ran past him, up the stairs, and into the house.

  A beat passed where he
could only stare at the place where Abby had been standing. He quickly turned and followed, however, craving the sight of her within the four lonely walls. Russell paused on the threshold, because dammit, he’d never wanted to set foot inside again. But she was inside. She was there. So when he saw her red dress flash at the top of the staircase, he went after her.

  Russell strode past the confused Realtor and scaled the stairs, turning right toward the office when he reached the landing. As he got closer to the office, his mouth went dry, pulse thundering with the knowledge of what Abby would find. He moved into the doorway, and there she was . . .

  . . . bathed in the shine produced by eight oversized skylights. The ones he’d spent the last week installing. Hell, there was barely any ceiling left, but what little was there, he’d painted blue to match the sky. The walls were rose gold and high-gloss, so they could capture the sunlight, spin it into a glow, and surround her with it. As if she needed any help looking magical as she turned in a slow circle at the center of the room. He watched as she noticed the red and yellow roses he’s set up along the window and placed around the room.

  Then those hazel eyes were on him, eclipsing the sunlight. “You did this for me?”

  “You said . . .” He cleared the rust from his throat. “You said you wanted it to feel like you were working outside.”

  Twin tears rolled down her cheeks, and Russell took an involuntary step forward to dry them, but her voice halted him in his tracks. “It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen. Anywhere. In my entire life.”

  Russell had to look away because the emotion that rolled through him was so potent, he was afraid to direct it toward her. Not unless she wanted it.

  “Russell. You can’t sell this house.”

  “Abby—”

  “Where would we live?”

  A shock of electricity struck him right in the chest, so powerful he couldn’t breathe. Or speak. It was so obvious his fate lay with Abby, he could see it suspended between them in the air.

  “We can’t have a man living in the apartment. If you moved in, Ben and Louis would insist on moving in, too, and the whole place would be overcrowded. And since I need to be with you, the only option is for me to move here. So you can’t sell it. No one gets this office but me. No one gets this house but us.” She swiped at her eyes when more tears fell. “Are we getting married or living in sin? Because as long as I get you, Russell, I’m in either way. Any way.”

  He went down on his knees and crawled the remaining distance to Abby. She clutched his shoulders and tried to pull him up, but he refused, wrapping his arms around her waist and inhaling the scent that clung to her clothes. “How did I fuck this up so badly when I love you this much? How is that possible?”

  She knelt on the floor in front of him, seized his face in her hands. “I love you, too.” Her lips drifted over his forehead, cheeks. “I love you. You love me. And nothing else is more important than that.”

  He crushed her against his body, feeling alive for the first time in days. The oxygen he sucked in was laced with Abby, the staggering relief that he wouldn’t have to live without her. Thank God. Thank God.

  “We’re going to go tell the Realtor you’re not selling, okay?” He nodded into the crook of her neck. “Right after she rejects the offer I made.”

  Russell’s head came up. “You made an offer?”

  “I was afraid I wouldn’t get here in time, and you’d accept someone else’s offer.” She searched his face. “If I’d bought the house, what would you have said?”

  His answer was important to her. Important to them. After the way he’d pushed her away until he felt stable enough to give her things that could only be bought with money, she needed to know his insecurity had been obliterated by the reality of losing her. Russell tipped up her face. “If you’d bought my house, I would have asked you when I could move in, angel. Either way, it would have been ours.”

  The smile that spread across her face was so damn beautiful, he breathed her name. “Did you mean what you said about getting married? I can have a priest here in half an hour.”

  Her laughter wrapped around Russell as she eased him backward into a sitting position on the floor, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I meant it. Of course, I meant it. There’s no one else for me in the world.”

  “Christ, me either, angel—” She rolled her hips and Russell saw sparks behind his eyes, but somehow found the wherewithal to reach over and slam the office door. “You need me now? God knows I need you so damn bad.”

  “Yes.” She tugged down the straps of her dress to reveal her lack of bra. The sight sent Russell’s erection surging between her legs, making her gasp. “I can’t wait.”

  They both reached for his zipper at the same time with shaking hands, lowering it carefully to take out the arousal she’d inspired. Russell groaned against her mouth as he hurried to remove a condom from his wallet, quickly rolling it on. Abby’s panties were shoved aside seconds later, and, fuuuuck, he was inside her. Neither one of them moved, simply breathing into one another’s mouths. “Tell me you . . . love me again while . . . I’m inside you.”

  “I love you, Russell,” she husked, looking him in the eye. “I’ll never stop. I couldn’t.”

  “Marry me, Abby.” His voice was urgent, breaking as she started to move, her body undulating on his lap. The perfect feel of her made it difficult to focus, but he battled to stay present. “Tell me you’ll marry me.”

  The way she looked at him spoke of love, more than words ever could. “Make me.”

  So he did.

  Epilogue

  “SEE, THERE ARE obstacle courses, like the one the Army uses for training.” Alec paused to make eye contact with Ben, Louis, and Russell. “And then you have the real deal. Not many men have attempted the American Ninja Warrior obstacle course and survived to be the best man at his brother’s wedding.” He spread his hands wide, pulling the lapels of his tuxedo wide. “Take a good look. I’m a rare breed, gents.”

  “I don’t think anyone can argue that,” Russell said, his tone dry but good-natured. There wasn’t a damn thing that could bring him down. He was marrying Abby today. Making her his wife. Hell, he wasn’t sure a single thing—even his brother—would exasperate him for the rest of his life. What was there to complain about when he had Abby at home?

  Home. Russell hadn’t known what the term meant until they’d moved in together. The first week of waking up in the same bed, eating breakfast in their own kitchen . . . he’d thought eventually they would stop smiling like crazy people when their eyes met across the dining-room table. Or while folding laundry on the living-room floor. But it hadn’t happened yet. It never would, either. They would make sure of it.

  The four men stood waiting in tuxedos at the base of the Ninth Avenue stoop where he’d seen Abby for the first time and fallen hard and permanently for her. They had spent the last four months since Abby had given him another chance looking at churches throughout Queens and Manhattan, but none of them had felt right. One morning, they’d driven across the bridge for breakfast, and it had hit them both at the same time as they climbed the steps. The stoop was the spot. Twenty minutes later, Louis had come downstairs to break up their kissing jag and haul them up to the apartment for pancakes.

  Ben, looking perfectly at home in his tuxedo, nodded in his direction. “How are things at the office? We haven’t been out since the grand opening.”

  “Great. Better than great,” Russell responded, not bothering to hide his cheeseball grin. As if having Abby at home wasn’t unbelievable enough, she’d fallen into the role of office manager for Hart Brothers Construction. In a matter of months, she’d turned them into a major contender for city contracts and developments they never would have tried for without her staunch confidence in the company. In him. “I don’t know what we would do without Abby. She keeps the place running.”

  “Yeah,” Alec chimed in, elbowing Russell in the side. “She works us a little harder than I
’m used to, but it keeps this asshole happy. As soon as the lunch bell rings, he’s peeling out of the site to get an hour in with her.”

  “Damn right,” Russell said. It was true. In the beginning, he worried that Abby’s being exposed to his overwhelming need for her day and night might be too much. For her, not him. He’d never get enough of Abby. Thankfully, every time he walked into the office on his lunch break, she was on him like white on rice, begging for a trip to the stockroom. And there were no words for how that made him feel.

  True to his word, he’d done some exploring of the urges Abby tempted to his surface, and they’d learned together how to indulge both of their needs safely. He’d been relieved to find out that his nature didn’t make him a threat to Abby, but rather, the dominant counterpart to her softer spirit. She loved the way he controlled what happened in the bedroom . . . required it, some days, it seemed. Giving her what she needed was a privilege he would never take for granted. Not for a single moment.

  As it turned out, their bedroom was the only place where Abby liked to be controlled. Over the last four months, he’d watched her transform into a woman who didn’t take no for an answer. She was . . . dynamic at work. More than once, he’d been late to a job because he couldn’t tear himself away from listening to Abby negotiate over the phone. Or haggle with a supplier. God, she was amazing. He couldn’t believe she was about to become his wife, but no way would he question her decision to be with him ever again. They needed each other.

  Louis narrowed his eyes at the apartment-building door, as if willing them to open. “They say weddings put women in the frame of mind for marriage.” He lifted his chin in Russell’s direction. “You think you can convince Abby to toss the bouquet to Roxy?”