After Ever Happy (After #4) (36 page)

I come first, followed by him filling my mouth, and I nearly collapse from the relief that my body feels after my release. I try not to focus on the way I don’t feel guilty for allowing his touch as a distraction from my pain.

“Thank you,” I breathe into his chest when he pulls me to lie across him.

“No, thank
you
.” He smiles down at me and presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

“No.” I trace my fingertip over the black ink of the tree on his chest.

“Fine. Will you marry me?” His body moves with soft laughter underneath me.

“No.” I swat at him, hoping he’s only teasing.

“Fine. Will you move in with me?”

“No.” I move my finger to another group of tattoos, tracing the heart-shaped end of the infinity symbol drawn there.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” He chuckles, wrapping his arm around my back. “Will you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

“No,” I answer too quickly.

He laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” His laughter is cut short when the sound of the front door opening echoes through the house and voices fill the hall.

“Shit,” we both say at the same time.

He looks up at me, puzzled by my language, and I shrug at him before digging through my drawers to get dressed.

T
he tension in the air is so thick that I swear Kimberly opened the window for that reason alone. Across the living room we exchange sympathetic looks.

“It’s not that hard to answer the phone or at least respond with a text. I drove all the way here, and you just got back to me an hour ago,” Hardin says furiously, scolding Christian.

I sigh, as does Kimberly. I’m sure she’s also wondering just how many times Hardin is going to repeat that “I drove all the way here” sentence.

“I said I was sorry. We were downtown and apparently my phone decided not to have service.” Christian wheels his chair past Hardin. “These things do happen, Hardin. ‘The best-laid plans of mice and men,’ and all that . . .”

Hardin gives Christian one of his patented glares before rounding the island and standing next to me.

“I think he gets it,” I whisper to him.

“Yeah, well, he better.” Hardin continues glowering, earning an annoyed grimace from his biological father.

“You’re in a mood today, considering what we just did,” I tease Hardin, hoping to ease his anger.

He leans into me, hope taking the place of the anger in his eyes. “What time do you want to leave for dinner?”

“Dinner?” Kimberly interrupts.

I turn to her, knowing exactly what she’s thinking. “It’s not like that.”

“Yes, it is,” Hardin says.

Between her nosiness and his smug grin, I want to slap the both of them. Of course I want to go to dinner with Hardin. Since the day I met him, I have wanted to be near him.

But I’m not giving in to Hardin; I’m not throwing myself back into the cycle of our destructive relationship. We need to talk, really talk, about everything that has happened and my plans for the future. The future as in New York in three weeks with Landon.

There have been too many secrets between us, too many avoidable blowouts when said secrets were revealed in the worst way, and I don’t want this to be one of those situations. It’s time to be mature, get a backbone, and tell Hardin what I plan to do.

It’s my life, my choice. He doesn’t have to approve—no one does. But I owe it to him to at least tell him the truth before he finds out from someone else.

“We can go whenever you want,” I quietly respond, ignoring Kimberly’s smirk.

He smiles down at my wrinkled T-shirt and loose sweats. “You’re wearing that, right?”

I didn’t have time to pay attention to what I was covering myself with; I was too occupied with the idea of Kimberly’s knocking on my door and catching us with no clothes on.

“Hush.” I roll my eyes and walk away from him. I can hear him following me, but I close the bathroom door behind me, locking it. He tries the handle and I hear him laugh before a quiet thud sounds against the wood. The image of him hitting his head against the door makes me smile.

Without a word to him from the other side of the door, I turn the shower on and remove my clothes and step in before the water has a chance to heat.

K
imberly is standing in the kitchen with her hand on her hip. How charming. “Dinner, eh?”

“Eh?” I mock her, walking past her like it’s my house instead of hers. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Her heels click behind me. “I should have put money on how fast you would be here.” She pulls the refrigerator open. “I told Christian on the way home that your car would be in our driveway.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” I glance down the hall, hoping that Tessa makes it a quick shower, and wishing I were in the shower with her. Hell, I would be happy if she just let me sit in the bathroom, on the floor even, and listen to her talk while she bathes. I miss showering with her, I miss the way she pinches her eyes closed, too tight, and keeps them screwed shut the entire time she washes her hair—you know, “just in case” shampoo gets into her eyes.

I teased her over it once, and she opened her eyes, only to get a big puff of soap in them. I didn’t hear the end of it until hours later when her eyes were finally rid of the red rings.

“What’s so funny?” Kimberly places a carton of eggs on the island in front of me.

I didn’t realize I was laughing; I was so consumed by the memory of Tessa’s glaring and scowling at me—puffy, red eyes and all.

“Nothing.” I wave Kimberly off.

The counter is being filled with every type of food imaginable, and Kimberly even slides a cup of coffee, black, in front of me.

“What’s with you? You being nice to me so I won’t keep reminding your fiancé what a prick he is?” I raise the suspicious coffee cup into the air.

She laughs. “No. I’m always nice to you. I just don’t take your shit like everyone else, but I’m always nice to you.”

I nod, not knowing what to say next in the conversation.
Is that what’s happening here? I’m having a conversation with Tessa’s most obnoxious friend? The same woman who happens to be marrying my fuckup of a sperm donor?

She cracks an egg on the side of a glass bowl. “I’m not so bad once you get past that whole hating-the-world thing you have going on.”

I look up at her. She’s annoying but she’s loyal as hell, I’ll give her that. Loyalty is hard to come by, even more so lately, and oddly enough I find myself thinking about Landon and how he seems to be the only person besides Tessa who’s loyal to me. He’s been here for me in a way that I didn’t expect, and I definitely didn’t expect to somewhat like it—rely on it, even.

With all this shit going on in my life and the struggle to keep myself on the right path, the path lined with fucking rainbows and flowers and all the shit that leads to a life with Tessa, it’s nice to know Landon is there if I need him. He’s leaving soon and that fucking sucks, but I know that even from New York City he will be loyal. He may take Tessa’s side most of the time, but he’s always honest with me. He doesn’t keep shit from me the way everyone else does.

“Plus,” Kimberly starts, but bites down on her lip to stop herself from laughing, “we’re family!”

And just like that, she’s back on my damn nerves.

“Funny.” I roll my eyes. If I had been the one to say it, it would have been, but she just had to ruin the silence.

She turns away from me to pour the egg-batter shit into a pan on the stove. “I’m known for my humor.”

Actually, you’re known for your big-ass mouth, but if thinking you’re funny works, fine.

“All joking aside”—she looks at me over her shoulder—“I do hope you will consider talking to Christian before you leave. He’s been really upset and worried that your relationship with him is ruined permanently. I wouldn’t blame you if it was; I’m just letting you know.” Her eyes leave mine, and she continues cooking, allowing me time to gather a response.

Should I even give her one? “I’m not ready to talk . . . yet,” I eventually say. For a second, I’m not sure if she heard me, but then she nods her head and I can see the edges of a smile when she turns to grab another ingredient.

What feels like three hours later, Tessa finally emerges from the bathroom. Her hair is dry and pulled away from her face with a thin headband. It doesn’t take long to notice that she put makeup on. She could have done without the makeup, but I guess it’s a good sign that she’s trying to return to normalcy.

I stare at her for too long, and she shifts back and forth under my stare. I love the way she’s dressed today—flat shoes, a pink tank top, and a skirt covered in flowers. Fucking beautiful, that’s what she is.

“Lunch instead?” I ask, not wanting to be away from her at all today.

“Kimberly made breakfast?” she whispers to me.

“So? It’s probably shitty anyway.” I wave at the food covering the counter. It doesn’t look bad, I guess. But she’s no Karen.

“Don’t say that.” Tessa smiles, and I almost repeat the sentence to earn another smile.

“Fine. We will take a plate to go and then can toss it when we get outside?” I suggest.

She ignores me, but I hear her telling Kimberly to save some leftovers for us to eat later.

Hardin, 1.

Kimberly and her shitty food and annoying questions, 0.

THE DRIVE
through downtown Seattle isn’t as bad as usual. Tessa is quiet, like I knew she would be. I feel her eyes on me every few minutes, but every time I look at her, she quickly turns away.

For lunch, I choose a small, modern-style restaurant, and when we pull into a nearly empty lot, I know this means one of two things: either they just opened minutes ago and the crowd hasn’t started yet, or the food is shit so no one eats here. Hoping for the first, we go through the glass doors and Tessa’s eyes study the place. The decor is nice, whimsical, and she seems to like it, which reminds me just how much I love her reaction to the simplest things.

Hardin, 2.

Not that I’m keeping score or anything . . .

But if I were . . . I’d be winning.

We sit in silence while we wait to place our orders. The waiter is a young college kid who’s nervous and has some sort of eye-contact issue. He doesn’t seem to want to look into my eyes, the asshole.

Tessa orders something that I’ve never heard of, and I order the first thing I see on the menu that I have. A pregnant woman is seated at the table next to us, and I watch Tessa stare at the woman for just a beat too long.

“Hey.” I clear my throat to get her attention. “I don’t know if you even remember what I said last night, but if you do, I’m sorry. When I said I didn’t want a baby with you, I just meant I don’t want kids at all. But who knows”—my heart begins to pound against my ribs—“maybe one day or something.”

I can’t believe I just said that, and by Tessa’s expression, she can’t either. Her mouth is wide-open and her hand is in the air, holding her glass of water.

“What?” She blinks. “What did you just say?”

Why did I say that?
I mean, I meant it. I think. I could maybe think about it. I don’t like kids or babies or teenagers, but then again, I don’t like adults either. I pretty much only like Tessa, so maybe a little version of her wouldn’t be so bad?

“I’m just saying, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?” I shrug, hiding the panic inside me.

Her mouth is still open. I’m beginning to think that I should lean across and hold her jaw for her.

“Obviously not anytime soon. I’m no idiot. I know you have to finish college and all that shit.”

“But you . . .” I’ve shocked her out of words apparently.

“I know what I said before, but I also never dated anyone, never loved anyone, never gave a shit about anyone, so I think this could be like that. I think after some time, I could change my mind. If you’ll give me the chance?”

I allow her a few seconds to collect herself, but she just sits there, mouth open, eyes wide.

“I still have work to do; you still don’t trust me, I know that. We have college to finish, and I still have to convince you to marry me first.” I’m rambling, searching for something that will catch her and make her mine in this moment. “Not that we have to be married first; I’m no gentleman.” A nervous laugh leaves my mouth, which finally seems to snap Tessa back into reality.

“We couldn’t,” she says, all color drained from her face.

“We could.”

“No—”

I hold my hand up to keep her quiet. “We
could
, though. I love you and I want a life with you. I don’t give a shit if you’re young and I’m young, and if I’m too wrong for you and you’re too right for me—I fucking love you. I know I’ve made mistakes . . .” I run my hand over my hair.

I glance around the small restaurant, and I’m fully aware that the pregnant lady is staring at me.
Doesn’t she have a baby thing to do? Eat for two? Pump some milk?
I don’t have a clue, but she’s making me nervous for some reason, like she’s judging me and she’s pregnant and it’s just plain fucking weird. Why did I choose a public place to spill this shit?

“And I also know that I’ve said this same speech probably . . . thirty times, but you have to know I’m not fucking around anymore. I want you, always. Fights, makeups, hell, you can even break up with me and move out of our place once a week; just promise me you’ll come back, and I won’t even complain about it.” I take a few breaths and look across the table at her. “Well, I won’t complain
much.”

“Hardin, I can’t believe you’re saying all of this.” She leans in, her voice a whisper. “I . . . it’s everything I wanted.” Her eyes fill with tears. Happy tears, I hope. “But we can’t have children together. We aren’t even—”

“I know.” I can’t help but interrupt her. “I know you haven’t forgiven me yet, and I’ll be patient. I swear it—I won’t be too pushy. I just want you to know that I can be who you need, I can give you what you want, and not only because you want it, but because I want it, too.”