“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Mr. Mile High, but I am a woman,” River shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Raven is taking that job because it will require dragging those heavy-ass wooden tables around, and Raven is super anal about ‘room flow,’” she air quoted the last, smiling at her sister.
Raven was smiling again, gently rubbing Rowan’s legs. Her tears were gone, which he supposed was the whole point of the current ridiculous conversation. He was even amused by the kids’ bullshit until Raven told Rowan her part in the wedding.
“Row, you and Ciaran are responsible for the rehearsal and wedding menus. Saoirse has given you two free reign. You’ll need to find out how many menu items Ciaran and his staff can easily handle for whatever the guest tally ends up being.”
Hugh saw red. Fucking red. He stiffened, straightened in his chair, and looked at Rowan, mentally imploring her to turn and look at him. She had to know he wouldn’t want her anywhere that close to Murphy—that she shouldn’t even be speaking to the son of a bitch.
From his peripheral, he saw both Patrick and Bran look his way. Nervous about his reaction. They knew he’d be furious, and better than that, they would both understand it. No good would come of him voicing his opinion now. Though Hugh reasoned, Rowan’s sisters didn’t seem to mind when their husbands voiced their opinions. Still, after his idiocy at the rehabilitation center and her texts on the way here, he didn’t think it was the right time.
She would tell Raven no. Surely.
“Sounds great, Rave.”
Thirty minutesof uncomfortable silence later, Bran asked Raven to move by him, sharing his seat, and suggested they rest their eyes while their son slept. Rowan sat up and stretched, studiously avoiding eye contact with Hugh.
She could feel his eyes watching her as she excused herself to the bathroom, thankfully, roomy and beautifully appointed—the exact opposite of the gross, smelly cramped affairs on commercial planes. She was definitely becoming spoiled.
She knew he watched her walk from the main cabin. He hadn’t liked them discussing the Murphy brothers. He really didn’t like finding out Raven had assigned her to work with Ciaran directly on the menu. She might have listened to histhoughts on the matter if they were openly dating. If he was going to go back on his word, then she wouldn’t take his feelings into consideration.
She’d allowed him to get by with way too much in the past. She was done trying to soothe his ruffled feathers.
She needed to soothe him, though.Damn, his stubborn ass!She desperately wanted to sit next to him and at least hold his hand. She wasn’t going to push him any further than she had already, but she wasn’t going to let him get by with hiding how he felt about her for much longer.
She didn’t really have to pee. She just needed a moment away from Hugh’s aggressive silence. After locking herself in, she stood looking in the mirror. Sighing, she pulled the scrunchie from her hair, the messy bun tumbled down her back and shoulders. She used her fingers to massage her scalp, blowing out a frustrated breath. Hugh made her crazy. He’d always driven her half mad with his broody looks and silence.
He could be as antisocial as he pleased as long as he was hers. She thought he knew that. With a defeated sigh, she put her hair back in a messy bun and unlocked the door, only to have the panel pushed in and the man of her turbulent thoughts standing there with his hand fisting the handle, blocking her exit.
He crowded her until she moved back enough for him to enter and close the door behind him. When he turned the lock, her pulse started to race. She knew he had to be furious that she’d agreed to work with Ciaran Murphy, knowing they’d had a mild flirtation. He didn’t know that the two had kissed one evening when Hugh had infuriated her. She would have told Raven to switch jobs with her. After all, if Hugh wanted to work closely with a woman that he had flirted with or kissed…no way.
She walked back to the marble countertop attached to the wall next to the sink and leaned her back against it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched as Hugh followed andstood before her. She thought she’d seen all of his severe looks. Apparently, not. If he was attempting to intimidate, it was working—if intimidation felt like a giant turn-on.
He crossed his arms over his chest, matching her stance. He was pissed, well, so was she.
“I don’t want space. I am ready to be with you. Iamall in.”
No beating about the bush…good. “It hurts me when you treat me like you do my sisters. It kills me that you want to pretend we are nothing more than relatives when we’rewith our relatives! Everyone out there,” she jabbed her finger at the door, “knows we’ve had sex, Hugh! They know I love you, and you love me. You do understand that, don’t you?”
His jaw was clenched as he released his arms to hang stiffly at his sides.
“I do know that, yes,” he admitted.
He looked so pained at the admission that she wanted so badly to wrap her arms around his waist and reassure him, but they needed to get this monster between them dragged out of the closet.
“You don’t have to joke and laugh with everyone. You don’t have to say silly things like Bran and Patrick do just to make us roll our eyes. You don’t have to smile when my sisters and I are goofy or groan when we tell each other private things. You only have to love me. Hold my hand. Claim me as yours.”
She felt tears pooling in her eyes and desperately tried to blink them back.
Hugh’s chin dropped to his chest, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. He looked as miserable as she felt. When he straightened, he stepped close enough to grasp her waist and sit her on the tall counter.
She couldn’t help but spread her legs wide enough for him to step between them. She kept her hands firmly on the cold marble, careful of her left. Nurse Becky had taken the largerwrap off that morning, allowing her to wear bandages over the deepest wounds. It was healing quickly with no infection.
She wanted to place her hands on his chest or around the back of his neck so she could pull him to her mouth. It was a distraction they didn’t need. Yet.
“I’m just…I’m an idiot who needs more time to adjust to this new version of us. I need grace, Row. Forgive me when I fuck up. Love me anyway,” he begged, his voice low and raspy with emotion.
“I would never not love you. You just…I don’t expect…geez, I mean, you never need to change yourself for me. You can frown and growl all day long, but when you walk by, whether it’s when we’re alone or in a crowded room, you better stop to at least kiss my cheek.”
She finally let herself touch him, placing her hands carefully against his neck, her thumbs tracing his strong jaw. “I want everyone to know I’m your girlfriend. Tell me I’m not asking for too much. Tell me you understand.”
