AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Glad to hear it. Second, you have to sleep next to me every night. If I’m in this house, you’re in our bed.”
She blinks, lips pressed into a firm line. I can tell she doesn’t like it. “Why?”
“If you want to get pregnant, I have to touch you.”
“So if I say yes to this ridiculous idea, I should be able to sleep in my own room once we get a plus sign on the pee stick.”
I’m dying to know why she’s so insistent about sleeping alone. “Nope. We’ll have your health and the baby’s to think about. I’ll want to keep an eye on you both.”
Harlow says nothing for interminable moments. Finally, she sighs and reaches for her makeup case just behind my feet. “I need to think.”
When she turns with the case in her hand, I grip her arm to stay her. “For how long?”
“Give me…a week. I’ll have an answer then.”
Afew days later, I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind before Saturday rolls around. Harlow has been quiet. Preoccupied. She won’t sleep next to or with me. I’m frustrated and jacked up as hell. It’s been a long week without her—without touching her, without drowning inside her. I’m losing my mind.
Yesterday, we started another speech assessment—the most conversation we’ve had since I blurted that I want to marry her. This test is more physical and nonverbal than the previous ones. She stopped midway through to ask me questions about my proposal. Sharp, direct queries. I knew instantly she meant to ramp up my anxiousness to see how I’d perform. But when she hinted that she was leaning toward a no, I froze up and lost my shit. With a growl of frustration at this fucking unpredictable deficiency and her aloofness, I stomped out of the room.
Harlow tracked me down an hour later pumping iron in the home gym with an apology and a confession that she hadn’t meant any of those less-than-subtle suggestions. The honest truth was, she’s still thinking and she feels terrible for using our relationship to try to put me on edge. When she kissed my cheek, I knew she meant it. I also know she understands how much I want her in my life.
That woman having such a hold on my heart is unsettling, but I can’t change it.
“Hey, Noah.” She strolls into my office the next evening all dolled up in a sundress, wedge sandals, lip gloss, and curls. She’s slung her purse over one shoulder.
I remove my earbuds and pause the game commentary I’ve been studying. “What’s going on? Going somewhere?”
She nods. “Keeley is picking me up for happy hour and a little karaoke. She’s convinced I need to get out. I think they just want to grill me about why I’ve been quiet lately.”
I’d like to do the same, but I have to respect her space for another four days. Marriage—even for a year—is a big decision.
“Be home for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Depends on how crazy my sisters-in-law get. I’ll call you once I know.”
I’d rather not eat alone and I don’t love the fact that she’s going to a bar while she looks so beautiful, but she’s an adult. And I just want to marry her, not control her. “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”
With a nod and an awkward pause, she’s gone. I miss the easy conversation we used to share. I wonder if proposing was a colossal error on my part. I don’t regret it, exactly. But I wonder if, instead of moving us forward, she sees marriage as a threat to her independence or heart that is only setting us back.
Sighing, I stand. I hate the not knowing, and I swear I’ll lose my mind before she puts me out of my misery—one way or the other.
Once she’s gone, I prowl around the house. It feels huge and empty without her. It’s still too big for two people, but when Harlow is here, she’s humming as she cooks, shouting at the enemies on her video game as she’s playing, or blasting music as she lies by the pool. This place is full of life when she’s under my roof.
If she goes, it will be empty as hell. I have no idea what I’ll do with this huge house. We haven’t been together even two weeks, but it feels as if she belongs here and I’ll be the interloper if I have to be here alone.
I pace, trying to imagine another scenario. What will our house feel like if Harlow lives here as my wife, round with our baby? Instantly, I’m hard and aching and wishing she’d decided to stay in so I could remind her of some of the ways we’re best together. The last week without making love to her feels more like a year.
I need to stop this train of thought or I’ll spend the entire evening in misery.
Flipping on the game console, I launch myself into the Middle English-style adventure and am just completing a side quest when I hear the slam of a car door. Who got onto the estate and how? The only people who are approved are family—hers and mine. Trace is working today. My mother doesn’t like to drive the windy roads out to here. Harlow is with her sisters-in-law. By process of elimination, I’m not surprised when Maxon and Griff stroll into the family room through the open patio door.
“Knock, knock.” Maxon raps his knuckles on the doorframe, then lounges against it negligently.
“Hey. Come in.” I suck in a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. They know I’ve had issues, so it wouldn’t be a shock if I stopped talking, but without Harlow here to interpret and referee, this might get ugly.
“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Griff says. “But when our wives said they were going to take Harlow out and shamelessly grill her for information about you two, we thought we’d chat with you about a few things.”
Meaning they want to shamelessly grill me for information, as well.
