TROUBLE 3 Page 7

  But a tool who loves me, if this invitation tells the story.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Nat and Lena leave, I do what I should have done months ago and go stalker on my husband. I search everything he owns and find nothing. It’s as I’m slumped dejectedly at his desk that I realize I’m going about this the wrong way.

  Of course I won’t find anything worthwhile in his things; he’s not interested in controlling himself, because it’s me he’s been after for months. What I find when I go through my drawers pisses me off as much as it warms my heart.

  A quick internet search later and I am totally sure that he’s been playing me the whole time. Sure, it’s kinda sweet and romantic, if you go in for being married to a psycho.

  I’m not that girl, so instead of having the warm and cuddlies I’m so furious I could spit.

  I keep the rage festering all day and into the evening hours till I hear his footsteps crunching up the drive and to the door. When he walks in and sees me he smiles broadly and prowls my way, giving me his most charming heavy-lidded stare.

  “Darlin’, you look good enough to eat,” he drawls, intensifying the look with a carnal onceover and a predatory smile.

  It vanishes when I drop my birth control and the wedding invitation on the coffee table, his wince telling me everything I need to know.

  “Han—”

  “You must be the most ruthless, controlling man I have ever met,” I say between gritted teeth, daring him to explain it all.

  Greg takes a step back when I rise, my fists balled at my sides.

  “You are such a liar!” I yell, getting worked up the longer he takes to confess his—

  I don’t even know what to call this. It takes his controlling ways to a new level of low and—

  “The wedding thing… I can’t even begin to explain how weird that is, but the birth control! Jesus, Greg, do you know how wrong that is? We’re already married! You didn’t have to swap out my pills. We could have talked about it.”

  “And what?” he demands, flinging his hands up. “You would have done what you always do and told me to relax. I can’t… You have to understand, once I have a plan I follow it to the letter. You make… You never do what I expect you to, and it drives me crazy!”

  My eyes roll heavenward, and I flop back to the sofa with a sigh.

  “So you swapped out my birth control. Why?”

  He runs his hands through his hair and flings his jacket and tie to the table before pinning me with his gaze, a gaze that is as steely as it is pleading.

  “You were so happy when you found out you weren’t pregnant, while I…was devastated,” he admits. “I was going to propose to you that morning after the tests came back positive…”

  “But—”

  “And then it was negative, and I was so angry at you for being so happy about it. I thought if you’re that thrilled about being free of me… So I called Lena and told her the wedding was a surprise, that she should play along… Hell, I guess I just wanted to hurt you for making me feel… I don’t… I wanted everything arranged so that you couldn’t back out when the time came.”

  He’s so at odds with the sure and authoritative man I know that I realize exactly what his intentions were. He’d made me plan my own goddamned wedding, knowing how much it hurt me, all for a little revenge and the chance to get what he wanted without making himself vulnerable.

  I should be furious. I should kick him in the balls and make him suffer for the way I’d felt. And for tricking me into getting pregnant. There are a million things I should be doing right now instead of allowing that warm, squishy feeling to invade me as I watch him flounder desperately.

  “So let me get this straight. You made me plan that wedding, thinking you were marrying Lena, just to hurt me for being happy about the test results?”

  He nods once, and I see color bloom on his cheeks.

  “Then you forced me to marry you, again, because you wanted me to think you were getting back at me for breaking the engagement?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you made sure you got me pregnant—”

  “That was after I fucked up our honeymoon so badly! You were so cold, and you stopped telling me you love me. I went a little crazy—”

  “Yeah,” I say with a snort. “All you had to do was say you love me, you idiot. Jesus, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to avoid saying three little words that would have gotten you what you wanted right from the beginning.”

  Is it wrong for me to enjoy his discomfort this much? Probably, but as I watch him squirm and flounder for a way out of the mess he’s made, I feel more amusement than a sane woman should.

  Maybe…maybe I am just as nuts as he seems to be, because instead of being horrified by this, I’m so happy I could burst. Greg may not be good at saying the words, but boy has the man gone all out proving it.

  The long and short of it is that he’s loved me from the start and done everything in his power to have me. It’s flattering and crazy and so him I can’t help giggling when he drops to his knees in front of me and bites his lip.

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Yes, you most definitely will. Now tell me you love me, you lunatic.”

  He shakes his head and kisses me instead, laughing when I slap him away and glare.

  “I don’t do love. I told you that,” he says solemnly. “What we have goes so beyond that…we fit.”

  I kiss him this time, showing him that I understand, that I accept this one small flaw he seems unable to conquer. I’ll never have the words, something I’m not entirely happy about, to be honest, but I have the man.

  And the proof.

  A lot of marriages are made up of smooth-talking cheaters who can talk the talk as easily as they change their socks. What I have is a man who lets his actions speak for themselves.

  I kiss him and love him, knowing that I am loved and that he’ll keep showing me — wordlessly — for the rest of my life. We do fit. We belong together, and that’s all I need to know.

  # End #

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