by Leddy Harper
Then he turned around, met my stare, and said, “Hey.”
With that one word, that one look, the mess was gone and my head was clear.
“The mirror…” I pointed behind me, as if he wouldn’t know which mirror I’d meant. “What is that? The writing. The words. You did that?” All I got was a nod, right before he moved his attention to the island. I stepped forward to try again. “What does it mean?”
“You said you don’t know me.” He flicked his eyes toward the bedroom I was staying in. “Well, that’s more than I’ve ever given to anyone other than Nonna.”
“I still don’t understand. Please, Brogan. I’m not trying to devalue your effort or sound ungrateful…I’m just really confused.” I must’ve been too wrapped up in the sentiment he’d left behind in my bathroom, because I just now realized he was in the middle of making dinner.
He grabbed a spatula and stirred the hamburger meat in the pan. “It’s hard to give someone a private piece of you when your life is pretty much out there for everyone to pick apart. It’s no secret that I can draw. I can’t sing to save my life. You’ve eaten enough of my food to know it’s edible, but it’s nothing to write home about. It gets the job done, and that’s about it. As you’ve already pointed out, what I can offer in the bedroom is public knowledge. So…I decided to give you something that no one alive has ever seen.”
“You write?”
“Poetry,” he said, bobbing his head without making eye contact. “I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager. And before you ask, no…Jessica never read anything. She made a joke about it one time, and after that, I kept it from her. I don’t think she meant it maliciously, but it bothered me all the same.”
“So, you wrote that? On the mirror? When?”
He shrugged, acting too busy to look my way. “An hour or so ago.”
“Brogan…” It was nothing more than a whisper lost in a steady breeze, yet it was enough to catch his attention.
When he finally met my gaze, his eyes were dark and closed off. “Don’t, Mercy. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. I wanted to share my thoughts, and I couldn’t think of any other way to do it than with the one piece of me no one else has.”
“I don’t…” I swallowed harshly, my words sticking to my dry throat. “I don’t know what to say, Brogan. Thank you doesn’t seem to be enough.”
“It probably makes no sense to you. What I wrote, I mean. I was just trying to say—”
“I know what you were trying to say.” A single tear slipped free and ran down my cheek. Luckily, I was able to catch it before Brogan glanced up. “I understood what you meant. Which is why any form of gratitude doesn’t come close to what I’m feeling right now.”
Brogan had intentionally given me a glimpse into himself by expressing his feelings in words he’d never shared with another living soul. But in that moment, when his eyes met mine, he offered me something else.
Likely unaware he’d even done so.
He gave me a piece of his vulnerability. His pain. A sliver of the hidden humiliation that he kept buried beneath a painted canvas. Covered in graffiti. Locked behind years of loss and doubt. It crossed his brow in shallow valleys of hesitation and colored his cheeks in raw insecurity.
He was open. Closed off. Pushing me away while desperately trying to hold me close.
It was too much to process at once, leaving me immobile, grounded in place. The only thing I could do was open my mouth and give him honesty. “Your words…they make my chest hurt. As I read them, I breathed them in, and they burrowed themselves next to my heart. Took up residence within my lungs. They’re powerful enough to keep me safe, yet just as capable of destroying me.”
“Mercy…”
“They make my eyes burn. Every vowel, every period. Every syllable you wrote and verse you formed did something to me that I’ve never experienced. I’ve never read something so beautiful, something that literally brought tears to my eyes.”
“Mercy, that’s enough.” Beneath the stern tone and harsh shell lay a boy who couldn’t accept my praise. “I didn’t do it for compliments. You said you didn’t know me, so I’m showing you who I am. You think I’m using you to kill time until Jessica comes back, and I’m trying to prove to you that I’m not. I don’t need your approval. I need you.”
Under his intense scrutiny, I became fully aware of my state of undress.
“I’m, uh… I’m going to put on some pants.” I took a few steps backward, holding my shirt down in the front.
“Hey, Mercy? Could you do me a favor?”
I stopped and held his stare.
“Next time you hang out with your ex, can you tell him that if he ever contacts me again, he’ll wish he’d never learned how to type? Thanks.”
“He did what? He texted you?”
He went right back to browning the meat, continuing as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at my feet. “Email, but yeah. Same thing. I think he got off on telling me that I’m runner-up. I guess you told him that you’re waiting to see if he lied about where he was that night? And if he was telling the truth, you plan to get our marriage annulled?”
“He twisted what I said.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t give a shit what he had to say.” He moved the pan off the burner. “Although, I don’t think he liked it too much when I told him I hoped he enjoyed the taste of my cum, because I fucked your pussy so hard and so deep it’ll be a while before it’s all out.”
I was shocked. And mortified. And incredibly turned on by his possessiveness.
“Did you really?”
His smile became visible in his eyes first, but half a second later, it was drawn across his face. “No. Of course I didn’t. I’m not about to warn him of that shit. He can figure that out when he gets there.”
“Brogan, we didn’t—”
“I don’t care.”
“But I want—”
“It doesn’t matter, Mercy. Now…go get some pants on before I say fuck it and prove myself to you in a very different way.”
I wanted to stay and call his bluff. But that would’ve only made things worse.
10
Brogan
The door to the shop opened, calling my attention away from Indi—who stood in the hallway with me, bullshitting. Like usual. People came in and out regularly, be it to smoke, to check out the shop, look at the merchandise. And clients.
But this time, heaven walked through the door.
“Everyone,” I called out, making sure the entire shop heard, “I present to you, Mercy. My wife.” My cheeks ached from my smile, but that might’ve had more to do with the shock and embarrassment on her face as she glanced from side to side at all the people now staring at her.
As soon as she was within reach, I didn’t wait for her to say anything. I held the side of her face in one hand, pulled her to me with the other, and claimed those lips. Not caring who watched. I wasn’t ashamed of her, and I wanted everyone to know that. Including her.
Mercy pushed against my chest and broke the kiss, though not angrily. Her eyes cut to the side, likely noticing Indi, and then lifted to meet mine. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Nope. Just discussing the day with Indi.” I pointed to the woman who hadn’t left my side, who was also smiling like she knew a secret no one else did. “Mercy, this is Indi. Indi, meet my wife, Mercy.”
Mercy didn’t seem overly comfortable when she shook Indi’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Mercy glared at me for a second before returning her attention to my colleague. “Same here. I’ve also seen the show—binged it, actually. You do amazing work. It’s nice to finally meet the person Brogan spends so much time with.”
Watching her claws come out, practically branding me in front of another woman, was insanely hot. It stirred something in my chest…as well as in my pants. And while I would’ve loved to see how this interaction tu
rned out, I wasn’t willing to lose one of my best employees. So, I took Mercy by the hand and led her into a room, closing the door behind us.
“Do I have anything on my leg?” I asked after she sat in the chair in the middle of the room. I lifted my foot so she could see better, and when she shook her head, I hummed with my hands on my hips, confusion exaggerated. “I’m surprised, considering you basically peed on my calf in front of Indi, marking your territory.”
She rolled her eyes and dismissed me with a flick of her wrist. “No more than you did when I came in. What was that anyway? Why would you announce that to the whole place?”
“It’s part of my strategy, babe.” I lowered myself to the stool I used when working and rolled it over to where she sat. To my surprise, she didn’t protest when I parted her legs to make room for my body, or when I nudged my way between her thighs. “I’m hoping it’ll be harder to walk away from me if the world knows you’re mine.”
A soft smile curled her lips as she brought her hands to my shoulders. And as though it were instinctual, her fingers began to dance on the sides of my neck. She dropped her forehead to mine, and just like that, we were in our own bubble. Our own world. Where no one could come between us.
It was safe. Comforting.
It was my heaven, and I never wanted to leave it.
“Well, you might want to start keeping that to yourself, because my parents are talking about coming down sometime soon.” Her words were spoken softly, but they felt like sledgehammers with as hard as they hit me in the gut.
“Do they not know about us?”
She pulled away, her attention dancing around the room—which meant she either didn’t want to look at me as she answered, or she needed to search for the right words. “No.”
“They don’t know we’re married?”
She shook her head.
“Do they at least know I exist?”
Again, she shook her head, her attention still on everything other than me.
I huffed and pushed away from her, my fingers twisted in my hair as if yanking on the strands would somehow make me feel better. “Then what the fuck have you told them, Mercy? Who do they think you’ve been living with for the past week and a half?”
She shrugged, and then her eyes finally fell to mine. “A roommate.”
At some point, regardless of my feelings for her, no matter what I trusted to be right, I had to harden myself. Lock my emotions down and keep them secure. Refuse the hope that followed me like a shadow. Ignore the dreams. They did nothing but build me up, lift me high. And if I didn’t rein them in, I’d come crashing to the ground when Mercy left.
“I told them about Jordan—well, mostly.”
“What does that even mean? Mostly?”
Mercy huffed and turned her sights to the ceiling. “Just that I had second thoughts about marrying him and called off the wedding. I told them that I stayed in town for the week to contemplate my options, but in the end, I decided to keep the job I was offered and move here regardless of what happens with Jordan.”
“Any idea how you plan to explain me when they get here? Or why you’re living in my house?” I blew out a sharp, incredulous laugh with a slight shake of my head. “Oh, that’s right. I’m your roommate, aren’t I?”
“I honestly don’t know how to explain any of this to them. I’m hoping I’ll have time to sort it out and come up with something before they get here.”
I sucked my teeth and finally nodded. “Do you happen to know when that might be? I just received the schedule from the producers—for when they’ll start filming again. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want your parents to know about that, either.”
“This one time, can you please see this from where I’m standing, versus letting your ego get bruised by thinking this has anything to do with you? Keep in mind, they’ve put down a good amount of money on a wedding I just postponed. And before you say anything, I did that instead of canceling it so everyone wouldn’t freak the fuck out.”
“But you do plan to cancel it, right?”
“Well, I’m certainly not marrying him, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m kind of already married.”
Damn, I loved it when she got riled up. It was sexy as hell.
“If I’d gone home and told them that, a month before the wedding they’ve been planning and paying for, I’d run off and married some random guy I’d only known for a week, I doubt it would’ve gone over so well. I didn’t have much choice. It’s not about being ashamed of you or finding reasons to leave. It’s simply navigating through parental landmines.”
I couldn’t argue her reasons, considering parental anything wasn’t familiar territory for me. I’d had Nonna and Uncle Jerry, but I never considered them parents. Had I been raised by my uncle, there was a good chance I’d be in prison next to my cousin. The life Mercy had lived was about as opposite of mine as it could get.
“Okay…so when do you plan on telling them? When they get here and figure it out on their own? Because, I have to be honest with you, babe…I don’t know how to keep the camera crew from outing us. Their job is to film drama, and at times, I’ve seen them stir the pot to cook some up. And once people find out about us…it’ll be everywhere.”
Mercy huffed and hunched forward, head in hands. Frustration evident in the curve of her slumped shoulders and in each puff of her chest as she took full and deep breaths. “I don’t know, Brogan.” She dropped her hands and met my stare. “Why don’t you tell me how this should go, since you’re the one who knows everything.”
I pushed myself to my feet and stepped up to her, making her sit straight to see me. With my hands on either side of her head, fingers woven in the silky strands of her hair, I searched her eyes, something I hadn’t had many opportunities to do since she’d been back.
“I don’t like fighting. Especially with you. Got it?”
Fisting the sides of my shirt, she nodded.
“Now…about your parents. You need to find out when they plan to come down, and I’ll look at the filming schedule. The crew won’t be here for two more weeks, so if you can get your parents to be here before they show up, that would be best. If not, we’ll have to work around it and come up with creative ways to keep them busy.”
Suddenly, her eyes grew full and glassy. “I’m not going to be on the show, am I?”
“Not if you don’t want to be.” I fucking prayed like hell she didn’t.
I didn’t want to share her with anyone, let alone the entire world.
“But we don’t need to worry about that now.” I dropped my forehead to hers and closed my eyes. “Damn, Mercy…the things I want to do to you on this chair would make a porn star blush.”
She laughed and tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead, I covered her smiling lips with mine until the song of pleasure replaced the humor from moments ago. And had someone not knocked on the door when they did…I would’ve shown her exactly what I wanted to do to her on that chair.
“Sorry to kill the mood, Wrong,” Indi said from the doorway, a sliver of amusement shining in her dark eyes. “But there’s a delivery out back that only you can sign for.”
Mercy slipped off the side of the chair, keeping her head down as if in shame. “That works. I was actually on my way to the school to fill out some paperwork and meet a few people. I just stopped in here on my way.”
Ignoring Indi’s presence, I blocked Mercy’s exit with my arm and kissed her one last time. “See you when I get home?”
“Yeah.” That one word would get me through the rest of the day.
I stood back and watched as Mercy moved around the kitchen. Dinner was almost done by the time I arrived home, and I was torn with how I felt about it. On one hand, the domesticated image made my dick hard. On the other, there was still a very real possibility that she’d leave, and this wasn’t something I should get used to.
“Is it your birthday?” I asked, questioning why she chose to make dinner. Suddenly, what
had been meant as a joke quickly became a ton of bricks, landing on my head. “Fuck, babe. Is it? I just realized I don’t even know when your birthday is.”
She giggled and shook her head. “No, it’s not. But I’m glad you asked, because I was hoping we could get to know each other over supper. We kind of jumped into this whole marriage thing without going through the normal stages of a relationship. And at the point when we should’ve been learning about one another, my ex decided to pop in and flip everything upside down. So, I thought this would be a good time to kind of…play twenty questions, if you will.”
Hearing her refer to the bastard as her ex made me smile. “I think that’s a fantastic idea.”
It didn’t take us long to get food on our plates and take our seats at the table—across from each other. At first, the silence was uncomfortable, as though neither of us knew how to start the conversation.
“The pasta’s really good, babe.”
She sucked in a noodle and nodded, acknowledging my compliment.
“September second,” I said just before taking a drink of water. “That’s my birthday. When’s yours?”
“February eighteenth.” For someone who wanted to play twenty questions, she certainly wasn’t doing a whole lot to make that happen.
“What else do you want to know about me?”
“Do you love me?”
I nearly choked on my food, having to cough several times before I could swallow and speak. “Holy shit, babe. Where the hell did that come from?”
She shrugged, though I knew if I gave her a few moments, she’d verbally respond. “I get that people make rash decisions and run off to get married without fully thinking it through. In fact, I imagine it happens a lot in Vegas. But what I don’t understand is…why fight to keep it if you don’t love the other person?”
“I never said I don’t love you.” Being vulnerable made me uncomfortable, but with Mercy, I felt this unexplainable need to give it all to her. To show her every side of me, even the ones I didn’t often let others see. “But I guess for me, it’s not as simple as that. It doesn’t come down to endorphins or deep respect.”