“I don’t have ESPN,” she took pleasure in informing him. “But feel free to go home and watch it on your own television. By yourself.”
He seemed to be considering it, but Mamma must’ve sent him on a major take-care-of-your-sister guilt trip, because he didn’t move. “Eh. Who needs SportsCenter?”
“Fine. Have it your way.” If he wanted to hang out, he was going to have to listen to her vent about Ty. She’d see how long he could handle that. “Actually, maybe it’s a good thing that you’re here. I could use a male perspective.”
“Oh yeah?” There was a definite note of hesitation in his voice, but he kept his seat on the couch, forcing her to go on.
“I asked Ty why he wanted to marry me, and do you know what he said?”
“What?”
“Because the sex was good.”
“That shitbag. I’m gonna kick his ass.” Matt shot up, like he was planning to do it immediately.
Crap. Serious miscalculation. “Actually, I should probably mention—”
“Seriously, Belle. I know Pops is set on you getting married, but you deserve better.” Matt paced the small room. “Call Ty right now and tell him it’s over. And if he comes anywhere near you, I’ll make him bleed.”
Annabelle sighed. That was the problem with the male perspective. There was usually blood involved.
What she needed was a girlfriend. Calli would understand that she wanted to vent, not determine the most painful method for dismembering Ty, but Edward was flying back to Andera tomorrow, and Annabelle refused to interrupt her friend’s goodbye.
Which left her with Matt.
“It’s not that simple,” she said.
“He comes near you, I put him six feet under. It doesn’t get any simpler than that.”
“No, I mean about the sex thing. That wasn’t the only reason he gave. He did say that we got along well.”
“In bed, right? You know what? It doesn’t matter if he stays away from you. I’m gonna kick his ass either way. Like I should’ve done seven years ago.”
“I don’t think he was talking about sex. He said he can talk to me about anything. And that we have the same sense of humor.”
“Dude is playing you. He’s telling you what he thinks you want to hear.”
“But we do get along well. He knows a part of me that no one else does. Not even you and Mamma and Papa.”
“Good for him,” Matt muttered, but he sounded slightly less murderous.
“It’s just…that proposal, you know?”
Calli would’ve understood exactly what she was getting at, but Matt looked even more confused.
“Relationships progress in a certain order,” she explained. “You meet, you get to know each other, you fall in love, and then you propose. Ty skipped right over the fall-in-love part.”
“Well, to be fair, Pops was threatening to shoot him at the time.”
“I know. But that’s no reason for him to keep pushing the marriage thing after he got out of Papa’s gunsights. I told him to lay low for a while and I’d take care of everything, but—”
“Wait a minute.” Matt stopped pacing. He turned to face her head on. “You’re mad because Ty still wanted to get married even after he knew his life didn’t depend on it?”
“Yes. No.” She shoved the last of the ice cream in her mouth. “Not once during all the time he was talking about marriage did he ever say anything about love. He thinks it’s all a big joke. He’s trying to get me a Natashja dress right now because he thinks that if he does he’ll win me, like some kind of carnival game.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Because… Well, I might have told him…” She set the empty ice cream carton on the coffee table. “The point is…”
Shoot. What was the point?
“The point is, you don’t want a Natashja dress. You want to know if he loves you.” Matt had that pained, don’t-make-me-talk-about-feelings expression, but he’d nailed it. Her little brother, who’d never had a relationship that had lasted longer than a night, understood more about love than she did.
He took the spoon she was hugging to her chest. “You have to ask him, Belle. You’re never gonna get what you want if you don’t speak up.”
“You’re right.” Asking that question, risking the heartbreak Ty’s answer might bring, would be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But at least it would give her closure. The knowledge brought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you.” She tried to hug Matt, but he’d gotten a glimpse of eye-related moisture and was already on the move.
“You got any beer? I need a beer.” He stuck his head in her refrigerator. “Damn, Belle—Hefeweizen? That’s some weak ass shit.”
“Feel free to go home and drink your own beer.” She got out her cell phone. “Actually, you should go home anyway. I have a phone call to make.”
She was going to ask for what she wanted. And she was darn well going to get it.
*
“Hey, sweetheart.”
At the sound of Ty’s voice coming over the phone line, Annabelle’s stomach pooled with equal parts anticipation and dread. The words she’d practiced a dozen times before dialing stuck in her throat.
But she couldn’t keep seeing him, falling deeper in love with him every time she heard his voice, knowing he didn’t feel the same. One way or another, this would give her closure.
She closed her bedroom door. Then she locked it, in case Matt—who still hadn’t left—got any bright ideas about barging in. “I have to ask you something.”
“Actually, now isn’t the best time. Can I call you back?”
There was a slight hitch to his breathing, and she fought the instinct to ask him where he was and if he was all right. She had to get this out before she lost her courage. “Do you love me?”
“Of course I love you.” He answered quickly, no hint of hesitation. “Why else would I propose?”
Her teeth ground together so hard she could barely force her reply out. “Then why didn’t you say so when I asked you why you wanted to marry me?”
“I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me. I figured the loving you part went without saying.”
She was going to kill him. How was it possible that he could read the smallest nonverbal signals from her body, adjusting his technique to give her an orgasm that made her see stars, and be so completely oblivious about this? “ ‘I love you’ should never go without saying!”
“All right. Lesson learned.” But he didn’t sound contrite. He sounded like he was grinning.
He didn’t get it. Not at all.
And the problem wasn’t only him. She’d come close to sabotaging their relationship, and all because she’d been too afraid to ask him if he loved her.
Neither of them knew the first thing about being in a long-term, committed relationship, and here they were, days away from getting married.
It was insane. If they had any chance of a future together, they needed to slow things down. Learn how to communicate. Learn each other’s quirks and habits. Cohabitate for longer than a single night.
“I’ll be over in an hour,” Ty said. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about our bargain. I deliver that dress, you say ‘I do.’ ”
“About that—”
Matt pounded on the door. “Uh, Belle?”
“Not now!”
“We only have two days,” Ty said, “so if you want to make sure it fits, I’d better—”
“I’m not marrying you in two days!”
For a second, all she heard was his breath, a surprised hiss, like she’d punched him in the stomach.
She felt sick. Why did doing the right thing have to feel so wrong?
“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, quietly.
“No! I’m only trying to slow things down. We had our first date less than a week ago. We haven’t had enough time together to make sure we’re compatible in the long run.”
“Bullshit.”
&
nbsp; “Excuse me?”
“I said, that’s bullshit. I don’t care how short a time it’s been. You’re it for me, Annabelle. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
The words were a jolt of electricity, making her whole body tingle. She hugged the phone closer. “I want to be with you too, but we have to—”
“Your friend’s having a nervous breakdown in the living room,” Matt shouted. “So, unless you want me to slap the crazy out of her, you’d better get out here.”
“Hold on,” she said.
“No way. I did not sign on for—”
“Have to what? Just tell me, and—”
“Seriously, Annabelle. Get your ass out here!”
Her head swam. She couldn’t even figure out who was saying what, much less how to answer.
Calli’s wail cut through the two voices competing for her attention, and Annabelle knew what she had to do.
She spoke into the phone. “I’m sorry, Ty. I have to take care of something.”
“Tell me what I have to do!”
He was rushing her again, trying to force her onto his timeline even though it was the worst possible thing for their relationship. “Wait! Is that so hard to understand?”
Calli must’ve stopped crying, because all Annabelle could hear was the shocked silence on Ty’s end of the line.
“All right.” His voice was stiff. Formal.
“I’m sorry. I only meant—”
“No, you’re right. I can wait.” She heard the hurt in his voice, but before she could apologize again, the line went dead.
*
Forget one note or even five—The Suit’s doorbell sounded like an entire symphony. Ty stood, dripping on the flagstone tiles, holding the dry garment bag in front of him as he stared at the front door. The massive thing had sixteen interlocking oak panels on each side, joined together with metal fasteners.
Footsteps echoed inside. Then part of one panel slid away, revealing a face behind the iron bars that remained.
“Hi,” Ty started.
The panel slammed shut.
“Hey! I need to talk to you.”
There was an ominous creak above his head. He craned his neck, trying to see what—was that a portcullis?
He took a step back, just in case, and the heavy iron grate slammed to the ground.
Adrenaline surged through him, waking every muscle for the coming fight. Except there was nowhere to direct all that energy with the heavy door and portcullis between him and his target.
“Hey! I’m trying to return your suit!”
No response.
Unless you counted the faint but unmistakable wail of sirens.
Well, shit.
Ty turned around, surveying his options. He might be able to make it back over the wall before the cops showed, but that would mean leaving the dress. No way.
The Suit clearly wasn’t gonna open the door, so he popped a squat on the stairs and listened to the sirens get louder. The cop car pulled up to the gate.
The Suit must’ve been watching from a video monitor inside, because the wrought iron gate rolled to the side a second later. The cops drove across the bridge to the front of the castle.
Ty gave them a smile and a wave, even though he wanted to grab one of the decorative rocks lining the moat and smash open the nearest castle window. He’d gone through all this shit to get the dress, and it didn’t even matter, because Annabelle didn’t want to marry him. She wanted to wait.
Was that her way of trying to let him down easy? Put off the wedding, hoping he’d lose interest?
The cops got out of their car. One was blonde and the other had dark hair, but they had identical uniforms, sunglasses, and bored expressions.
“Looks like we’ve got a real-life intruder this time,” Blonde Cop said to Dark-haired Cop. “Which means you owe me twenty bucks.”
Dark-haired Cop took his time looking Ty over. “Never seen a criminal carrying a garment bag. Unless it’s full of Uzis, you owe me twenty.”
Blonde Cop strolled over to Ty. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going set that bag down. Then you’re going to put your hands over your head, and I’m going to frisk you and check the bag. And once I verify that you’re just a dumbass and not a dumbass with weapons, I’m gonna try to talk that little shit inside out of pressing charges for trespassing, because, quite frankly, I don’t want to do the paperwork. And then you’re going to leave and you’re not going to come back, because we have actual crime to fight.”
Ty put down the bag and put his hands over his head. “Sounds more than fair to me.”
Blonde Cop patted him down swiftly and efficiently while Dark-haired Cop checked the garment bag. “Hey. This is a nice suit. Check out this suit, Simpson.”
“Belongs to the guy inside,” Ty said. “That’s why I’m here. See, I was on a flight with him, and—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Blonde Cop said, “because the truth is, I don’t care.”
Dark-haired Cop pressed the bell and a different but equally complex composition echoed through the house.
The peephole slid open again, barely visible behind the portcullis.
Blonde Cop flashed his badge. “Hello, Mr. Harrington. We’ve questioned the intruder, and—”
“You took the wrong garment bag off the plane.” Ty picked up the garment bag to show The Suit.
“Damn it,” Blonde Cop muttered. “Let us do the talking.”
“You have my suit?” The portcullis lifted with a groan. The heavy door creaked open, revealing a balding man in his late sixties. “That’s a $10,000 Henry Peretta.”
He snatched the bag, unzipped it, and peered at the suit inside, like he expected to find cigarette burns or grease stains.
“What about my dress?” Ty demanded.
All three men turned to look at him.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Not my dress. It’s for my fiancée.”
The word turned to ash in his mouth. Because she wasn’t his fiancée. Not if she didn’t want to marry him.
The old guy zipped the garment bag back up. “You have a lot of nerve, making demands after you broke into my house.”
“Your yard. And I was trying to return your suit. The $10,000 one, remember?”
“I find it hard to believe that you haven’t heard of a telephone.”
“I called. You didn’t answer.”
“So, instead of waiting for a call back, you broke into my home?”
“Your yard.”
“Young man, trespassing is trespassing. I have half a mind to press charges to teach you a lesson.”
“Hold on now,” Blonde Cop said. “Let’s not make any rash decisions. I’m sure you’re a very busy man, Mr. Harrington. The kind of man who can’t afford to waste his time going to the police station to fill out paperwork for an issue that could be solved with a simple conversation.”
“I am very busy.” The Suit sighed heavily. “Very well. Young man, I will return your dress. I suppose it’s not surprising what happened, what with this instant-gratification culture we live in. You people expect exactly what you want right away. And if it’s not given to you on a silver platter, you rush in to take it. Well, that’s not the way it works in the real world. Take the deal I recently completed with DexTron. You’ve heard about it on the news, I’m sure.” The Suit started describing some complex corporate merger, and Ty turned on a polite, I’m-absorbing-your-wisdom expression even as he tuned The Suit out, because he had to get through this as quickly as possible so he could get back to Annabelle.
Who didn’t want to marry him.
“Mergers require a particularly delicate touch. They’re almost like a marriage. The other company has to be assured they’re making the right choice. My team puts together all kinds of charts and graphs—earnings projections and that sort of thing—to show them how much more powerful we’ll be together than apart. But when it comes down to it, it’s all about gut feeli
ng. You have to establish a relationship, so that when they look you in the eye, they see someone they trust. Someone who will be there for them through SEC audits and bad earnings reports. Someone who will make sure their 401K is well funded. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
We haven’t had enough time to make sure we’re compatible in the long run. Annabelle’s voice hit him like a punch in the gut.
“Sure,” Blonde Cop answered for him.
“He totally gets it,” Dark-Haired Cop said.
“You mean that you have to be compatible,” Ty managed.
“I’m not sure I would use that term. But I suppose it’s close enough.”
“So how the hell do you do that?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It takes time to build a relationship. Time to build trust. You can’t rush these things, no matter how much you want the transaction on the books for the current fiscal quarter.”
“But—”
“Just say ‘I understand,’ ” Blonde Cop hissed.
“Thank you so much for your insight, sir. Next time I’ll be patient. Yadda, yadda, yadda.” Dark-Haired Cop whispered.
Ty kept his gaze trained on The Suit. “But what if the only reason they asked for more time is that they were stalling?”
“I see what you’re saying. You think they might’ve only been pretending to consider my offer, using the time they bought to shore themselves up against a hostile takeover.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“There are ways to tell. Are they buying up stock? Trying to put some sort of poison pill provision into place? Unless you have your head buried in the sand, it’s fairly simple to tell the difference.”
Annabelle’s voice echoed in his head again, but this time he heard the concern. The love. We haven’t had enough time to make sure we’re compatible in the long run.
And he finally got it. Annabelle’s reluctance to marry him wasn’t the first step to a breakup. It was her way of trying to save their relationship. To give it time to grow and flourish.
He just hoped he hadn’t already done it irreparable damage.
*
Ty had the dress with him, safe in the garment bag on his front seat, but he felt anything but safe. How had he messed things up so badly?
He should have known Annabelle wasn’t the kind of woman who fantasized about fancy dresses. She was the kind of woman who wanted to know the man she’d chosen loved her. That he was committed to spending the rest of his life with her.
Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) Page 15