Be My Bride (Make It Marriage Book 8)

by Nia Arthurs

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “During dinner, Tierra pointed out that you weren't looking at each other.” He frowns. “At all.” Brett shakes his head. “Which is weird because you were all over her in Vegas and that was before you decided to fake anything.”

  “We’re just…” I let out a breath. What the hell do I even say?

  Brett narrows his eyes. “What? Did you just realize that marriage isn’t all sex and games? Are you tired of the hard work and commitment already?”

  “I’m tired of you being nosy.” I shoot him a back off look. “When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.”

  Brett shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

  The ladies return to us.

  If possible, Asia looks even more uneasy than before.

  She knows.

  I stuff that voice deep down.

  More time.

  That’s what I need.

  I’ll figure out how to tell her.

  I swear I will.

  Just not yet.

  A few hours ago, she was willing to stay.

  To be with me.

  Forever.

  I need that.

  I can’t lose that.

  Can’t lose her.

  We walk to the car in silence.

  No flirting.

  No touching.

  No smiles.

  We get in.

  Silence again.

  On the way home, I flip the radio on.

  Music is playing but it doesn’t register. It’s all just white noise.

  I tighten my fingers on the steering wheel as I drive.

  The quiet is killing me.

  But I don’t know what to say.

  I park in the garage.

  Get out.

  Asia storms inside and reaches down to roughly tear her shoes off.

  Something between leaving the restaurant and driving home pissed her off.

  I don’t have a clue what.

  “Hey. Hey.” I capture her hand before she can storm up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh. Now you can talk?” Fury spills from her voice and sharpens her dark eyes.

  A headache brews in the back of my head.

  I step back. Unbutton my crisp white shirt.

  Asia’s lost three inches thanks to those heels she’s holding in her hand, but the way she stomps up the stairs, she might as well be wearing them.

  I follow her. “Asia.”

  “What? What do you want, Hansley?” She spins. “What can I do for you tonight?” Her voice lowers. "Would you like me to go back downstairs so you can strap me to the banister and pick up where you left off? Would you like me to take off my dress, crawl on the bed and spread my legs for you? Or would you like to take off your pants so I can—”

  “Stop,” I hiss. “That’s enough.”

  “You know. It’s a wonder more men don’t get married. They’re just not advertising it right.” She raises her hand in the air as she says sarcastically, “Free Booty Call. One dedicated screw is just a pillow away’.”

  “What the hell? Where is all this coming from?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Svena?”

  I freeze.

  Dig my fingers into my palm.

  “You used to date her, didn’t you?”

  “It wasn’t that serious.”

  “You just slept with her then?”

  “Twice.”

  She pulls her lips in. “That’s it?”

  I nod.

  “Why did it feel like… there was more?” Her voice cracks. “What are you not telling me, Hansley?”

  A groan works its way from the very depths of my soul and spills through my lips. I run a hand through my hair, sending wavy strands flying over my forehead. My skin itches until I want to peel it all off.

  My heart’s beating on the floor. That bastard keeps jumping out and trying to fling itself at Asia’s feet.

  “Please,” Asia begs.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Svena was the last woman I…” I pause. “She was the last person I was with before I met you.”

  Asia’s lips tighten.

  That hurt her.

  Me saying it out loud.

  But she’s calm. She figured out that much on her own.

  I walk across the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Patting the space next to me, I invite her to sit.

  She doesn’t. She keeps standing there, with her arms over her chest. With the space between us.

  Protecting herself.

  From me.

  The truth tears me up inside.

  I don’t fight for her to come closer.

  I don’t deserve to.

  “A few days ago, Svena came to my office with a pregnancy test…”

  Asia drops to her haunches, her arms over her knees.

  I spring to my feet and take one step toward her.

  She flings her hands out. “Don’t. Don’t you dare come near me.”

  “Asia…”

  “What did she tell you?” She opens her mouth wide and gasps for breath. “What did she freaking tell you, Hansley?”

  I wince. Regret and pain pile on top of my head.

  It feels like pulling teeth.

  Like slamming my own foot with a pickaxe.

  I hate seeing her hurt.

  Hate knowing that I’m the one who’s dragging her through this torture.

  I whisper the words that changed everything. “She told me that I was the father.”

  Thirty-One

  Asia

  The world crashes around me. Fragments of this reality, of this moment, shatter like glass. I dig my fingers into my knees. Feel the stretch of the red fabric. Feel my own body pulling apart.

  Tears push at the back of my eyes, but I can’t cry.

  I’m not shocked.

  In a small, distant part of me, I knew this was coming.

  When Svena asked if Hansley had ‘told me yet’, she’d unconsciously put her hands over her stomach. She was a first-time mother protecting her unborn child. I didn’t linger on it, but that move made an impression.

  Hansley got another woman pregnant.

  I don’t even know what to say.

  How to feel.

  Numbness is good though.

  It’s better than the alternative—throwing punches at Hansley’s head in anger or pouring out every drop of water I have in my body with tears.

  This isn’t the plan.

  This is so far off from any alternative version I had of the plan.

  Getting married in Vegas.

  Falling in love with my husband.

  Staying married despite my own fears.

  I managed to ride with it.

  But this?

  Can I make room for another woman’s child? For another woman to be so involved in my life and in Hansley’s life because of that child?

  It doesn’t matter that people do so every day.

  That there might be healthy baby-mama relationships out in the world.

  I don’t want to be in one.

  I don’t want to be constantly reminded that, days before he married me, my husband was screwing someone else.

  He interlaced their fingers.

  He breathed sweet words in her ear.

  He teased her body until she moaned in ecstasy.

  It’ll drive me crazy.

  Maybe that makes me immature or picky.

  I don’t care.

  This is my life.

  And this isn't the path I wanted it to take.

  Hansley moves a step toward me, his face crumpled and stressed. He looks torn up. And if this wasn’t all happening because of him, I would have given a damn.

  But right now, it’s hard to consider his feelings when he’s responsible for all the pain flooding my body.

  “It was before I met you, Asia. The moment we met at Make It Marriage, that very second, it ruined me. I couldn’t look at any other woman. I ended it with Svena. And then I met you i
n Vegas…”

  “How many others?”

  He blinks. “What?”

  “How many,” I push slowly to my feet, “of your little flings are going to show up with baby bumps?” My nostrils flare. “How many times will I have to hold my breath when a beautiful woman that you used to ‘know’ turns up in front of us?” My throat tightens. “Is it tens? Or hundreds?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Am I number one hundred and one?”

  “You mean more to me than all those women.”

  I shake my head, unable to look at him. Unable to believe him.

  “Svena was a mistake,” he says firmly.

  “How many mistakes have you made, Hansley!” My voice climbs in volume. “How many?”

  “Asia, you’re probably feeling upset and—”

  “Don’t freaking tell me how I feel. You have no idea how I feel.”

  “Then talk to me. Tell me so I can fix it.” He grabs my elbows. Dips his head to meet my eyes. His dark chocolate irises are swimming in helplessness. “I can’t lose you.”

  I wrench my hands back. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  “Asia.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I know we’re in a bad place right now. I know you’ll need time, but I just… I need to hear that you’re not giving up on us.”

  “Why should I hold on?”

  His eyes meet mine, burning with chaos. “Just a few hours ago, you said you’d stay with me. I’ll do everything I can to put you at ease. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about an awkward encounter again. Just… don’t take those words back.”

  For some reason, the reminder of how happy I was before meeting Svena twists the knife in deeper.

  What a naive dummy.

  What a total and complete idiot I was, skipping away on rainbows and sex and chemistry, thinking those things would hold a freaking candle when the rubber hit the road.

  Rainstorms have a habit of blowing flames out.

  I should have known.

  Hell, I’m the product of a wild, raging, passionate fire that lost steam at the slightest hint of dew.

  “Asia…”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” I stare out the window. “What’s done is done.” A thought drops into my mind and I fling my gaze back on him. “Is this why you’ve been spending all your time at the office? You were trying to keep this from me?”

  “I was waiting for the right time to tell you.” He wearily scrubs his hands over his cheek. “And… Svena said I might not be the father. We won’t know until the paternity test comes out. It could be me or… not.”

  I stumble back. “If you found out you weren’t the father, would you have kept on lying to me?”

  He glances to the side.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “There’s a chance it’s not mine. The paternity test—”

  “This isn’t about the freaking paternity test, Hansley.” I throw my hands up. “Is this ideal for me? Hell no. I’m not going to hide from that. But this isn’t the kid’s fault and I wouldn’t take it out on him or her if I had the chance to. This is about you. You, Hansley. I don’t trust you.”

  “All I’ve done, since the moment our eyes met, was think about you, Asia. That’s it.” He bobs his head. “You’re it. You’re everything.”

  His words pierce my soul, but I send out shields to keep my heart from bowing. This isn’t the time to run on my emotions. Going with the flow and depending on ‘feelings’ got me into this mess.

  It’s time to use my reasoning.

  The facts are simple. Clear.

  “You want to hear my list?” I ask.

  His eyebrows pull together in a ‘V’.

  I count on my hand. “You’ve got a track record of plowing through women. Commitment is like a curse word to you and you avoid it by choice.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So you say.” I exhale deeply.

  Feel the control slip into my veins.

  I can do this.

  I can be mature about this.

  Falling in love with my husband didn’t blow my brains out.

  I’m still Asia.

  I still analyze and research.

  I still have eyes and a brain.

  “One of those women is potentially pregnant with your baby and you didn’t tell me for several days. You lied to me and would have continued to do so until it was convenient.”

  He doesn’t combat that one.

  “And now you're asking me to put my trust in you when all the facts point to me getting hurt again if I do that.”

  He pins his lips together. Glances away.

  It’s tearing him up.

  I can see it.

  And it softens me.

  I let the shields down.

  Let myself be vulnerable.

  “Why should I trust you?” I whisper urgently. “Why should I, Hansley?”

  I wait.

  For him to tell me that he loves me.

  That he loves me.

  Only.

  Just me.

  That his heart won’t change.

  Not now. Not ever.

  They’re just words.

  They don’t mean much, but they’re something.

  Tell me you love me, Hansley.

  But he doesn’t.

  His jaw tightens and his eyes harden.

  And I realize that we’ve switched roles. Now that I want him to beg for me, to fight for me, he’s given up.

  I know because he’s wearing the same fractured expression that he wore when he was telling me about his mother. The curse echoes in his eyes. I’m just like my father.

  Hansley’s got me on a roller coaster.

  I can’t watch him drown.

  Even if I’m drowning right beside him.

  My heart lurches to my throat. “Hansley. Look at me.” Urgency echoes in my voice. “Why should I belong to you? Why should I stay?”

  Tell me you’re committed to me.

  Tell me you’ll stick around even if I’m angry and that we’ll fight through this together.

  But he doesn’t.

  He steps back.

  Away from me.

  Away from ‘us’.

  There’s fear in his eyes and determination in his jaw.

  “I’ll stay at a hotel tonight,” he says.

  They aren’t the words I want to hear.

  My fingers curl into fists. “Retreat isn’t an option in a real marriage.”

  “This isn’t a real marriage though.” He looks me square in the eyes. “Is it?”

  I bristle in response. “No. I guess it isn’t.”

  For a moment, we just stand there, watching our relationship implode in the most painful, quiet way possible.

  Hansley takes a step to the door.

  I stop him. “I’ll go. This is your house so…” My gaze hits the floor. “I’ll go.”

  “This is our house,” he says.

  “It’s not.”

  “Until the thirty days are up,” his voice is firm, “you’re still my wife. Even if…” He doesn’t finish it but we both know what he means.

  Even if love isn’t enough.

  Even if we couldn't make it.

  Even if everything's falling apart.

  Hansley grabs his jacket and keys and heads out of the room.

  I listen to his footsteps clop down the stairs. Through the hallway. Out the door.

  In the heavy silence that follows, I crawl over to the bed and lie on top of the covers. I stare at the ceiling for hours, too numb to cry.

  Thirty-Two

  Hansley

  I ruined it.

  Just like I knew I would.

  Just like I feared I would.

  Mom’s prophesy came true.

  Damn. The look in Asia’s eyes when she screamed at me…

  I can’t wash it away.

  It’s there.

  In my mind.

  In my soul.

  It’s a knife in the gut that twists every time I’m
around her.

  Like today.

  For our first Make It Marriage interview.

  A camera flashes in the distance, timed to take our picture every ten seconds. Or what feels like every ten seconds. I can barely see from all the flashes causing stars to dance in my eyes.

  Asia’s beside me, a polite smile on her face. She’s wearing a simple yellow dress that contrasts her brown skin perfectly. Her long hair falls down to her back and frames her face.

  There’s an elegance to the way she moves.

  It’s gorgeous.

  Stunning.

  My wife is everything.

  I mean, Asia’s everything.

  She’s not my wife any more.

  The night I left, we broke up.

  But we’re still legally married.

  And we still have obligations as a couple.

  The week after I left the house and moved into a hotel, Asia called me and reminded me about the interview Venus set up for us.

  It was my first time hearing her voice in over five days and I’d been stunned speechless. The only thing I could do was grip the phone tightly and listen to her, soak her in.

  Since I left, I tried not to think about my failing marriage. I got through the days by burying myself in paperwork and attacking the Jensen case.

  I haven’t been able to eat or sleep properly without Asia.

  My bed’s been as empty as my heart.

  I haven’t called any woman since. Haven’t even looked at one.

  Women still flit around. They still flirt and approach me. My options are limitless. Even tonight, I could have that concierge girl who keeps asking ‘if I’m lonely’. She could be in my bed in three seconds flat.

  But I don’t make that call.

  Because I don’t want her there.

  Even if we are over, I still want Asia.

  So badly that my heart pounds and my head spins.

  But I can’t have her.

  Because I ruin everything.

  Asia adjusts her fingers in mine and answers the interviewer’s questions. I try to participate. Try to fake happiness when the truth is my marriage crashed into the rocks and splintered days ago.

  It’s easy to pretend otherwise though.

  Because Asia’s like a flame.

  I’m drawn to her warmth.

  To her smile.

  To her laughter.

  I soak up every opportunity to bask in her sunlight.