“If you want me to.”
He would. If I asked. And maybe I’ll let him. “Only if I get to return the favor.”
“Nothing I do for you is a favor. I do it because I want to.”
His words echo in my ears and I have to wonder if he’s the first person to do things without strings. I know my parents didn’t, except that was so long ago I’ve learned to prepare for theconditions. The requirements of simple gestures like providing a meal.
“You’re not used to it, but we’ll get you there.”
“Years of conditioning won’t disappear overnight.”
“No.” He holds a slice of peach, a creamy blob covering one end, near my mouth. “But I’m a patient man.”
I’m beginning to understand him. His motives might be unclear, and his willingness to help me more so, but there is no denying he isn’t a liar or a cheat. He’s honest even when it might not be what I want to hear. In four days, he’s become the person I trust the most.
“I trust you.”
His head snaps up, his gaze zeroing in on mine. I see shock, a flash of pleasure. “I’ll treasure that. Make sure you don’t regret giving it to me.”
“I know.”
Sitting in the moonlight, staring into the eyes of the man I just married for reasons other than love, I can’t help wondering if that’s where this is heading. Devon makes me feel things I never have. I have to be honest and say I trust him more than my own brother. Or my two best friends.
What does that say about my relationships? Is it me or them?
“No more worrying tonight.” He scoots closer. “Let’s enjoy the view, the food and wine, and embrace this new step in our lives.”
“I want to help with the house,” I say as I reach for a handful of cashews.
“I thought you were.”
“Well, yes, I have, but going forward. I’d like to come over and?—”
“Whoa, stop right there.” He puts up a hand. “There will be nocoming over.You’re moving in with me.”
“I. What?”
“I just put a ring on your finger, you put one on mine. We’ll live together. Either at my place or yours.”
“I don’t want to go back there.” I had planned to look for a new house. Possibly an apartment.
“Then it’s settled. This week we’ll get you moved in.”
“But this isn’t a real?—”
He presses a grape at my lips and shoves it in. “Don’t say it.”
Chewing, I eye the man I married and try to work out why he’s so adamant about this.
“I can see you thinking so let me stop you before you get tangled up in shit that isn’t what this is. You are my wife, I am your husband, we will live together. If you don’t want to share my bed, I’ll order one for the other room that’s finished.”
“Sharing your bed isn’t a problem.”
“Okay. Then it’s the house.”
I laugh. “There is not one thing wrong with your house. I love it. In fact, I love it so much that if you decide to sell when you finish fixing it up, I want first dibs.”
“Then it’s living with me,” he says with a frown.
