Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(91)

“Uh—”

His booming laugh and the way he squeezes me tightly to his body makes anger an impossible task, and I let it go, focusing instead on what he wants.

“I’m not sure that rushing into marriage is a good idea. I mean, what if we drift apart and—”

“Sshh, there’ll be no ‘drifting’,” he mutters, tipping my chin up. “You and I are going to be married, and we’ll be parents in a few months. That’s as connected as it’s possible to get. Now come along, dove, we have a lot to get done tonight, and I’m still waiting for an explanation as to why Parker had his bloody paws all over your backside.”

I’m a smart girl and decide to just let him lead the way. I choose my battles carefully, especially with Vincent, and confessing to being part of a game, one that was meant to fire him up, is not something I want ruining the wonderful glow I’m still feeling.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be calm and logical enough to figure a way out of this mess and convince my guy that getting hitched isn’t in the cards right now.

***

“God, you were an easy target.”

I pull a face and stick out my tongue at the phone as Parker keeps ribbing me, his favorite pastime for the last two days. After pulling me down the stairs, Vincent hadn’t stopped till we were both settled in the backseat of a chauffeur-driven town car and on the way to Parker’s penthouse.

I’d protested and tried to get him to let me go talk to him and explain things, but, as usual, anything I said got overruled, and I’d watched and listened in horror as he called my friend and crowed his victory over the phone, his broad shoulders shrugging nonchalantly beneath my dirty stare.

We’d packed two suitcases of clothes and a few mementos I always take with me and gone to his house, my home now too, and just chilled for the rest of the evening. In front of the television, something he despises doing because he considers it a waste of time.

That had been two days ago. Now, as well as having to dodge Vincent’s probing and nagging about the wedding—which I’m not one hundred percent sure is even going to happen—I have to listen to Parker rib me about my lack of willpower.

“You shut up. You left me alone to fend for myself while you went to play with some business guy’s balls all night,” I volley back, keeping my amusement to myself when I hear him splutter his indignation.

“That is going to be a very lucrative deal, I’ll have you know. I had to speak to him. I tried a few months back, and his company wasn’t interested, so I couldn’t exactly turn him down. I’m still wondering what made Eberson change his mind.”

Oh, I think I have a very good idea what—who—had made the man change his mind, but I keep it to myself and instead pretend to listen when Parker starts going off about profit margins and expanding his portfolio.

As if he even needs more money.

“So how’s the painting coming along? Your first piece of the new series is still mine?”

“Fine. And yes, a promise is a promise, even if you didn’t deliver your end of the deal,” I muse, eyeing the new landscape I’m doing with a critical eye.

It’s one for my soon-to-be—maybe—husband, and I’m not sure if the storm clouds I’ve added are the right shade. Dammit, painting dark shit is harder than I’d thought, but they suit my seesawing moods perfectly.

“What are you talking about? Blake made his move, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he still hasn’t said anything about love,” I gripe.

Those fucking clouds are bugging the crap outta me, and if I can’t fix them I’ll have to remove the whole half of this piece and start again.

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Have you told him you love him yet? No, I already know the answer to that. Of course you haven’t,” he sighs, and I can just about see him roll his eyes and shake his head dismally.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what, Sis?” he finally asks, and I hear his tone grow more gentle. “He’ll either reciprocate your feelings, or he won’t, and then you’ll know and you can make your choice accordingly.”

That is the best, most logical advice he’s given me since we became closer friends, and I wholeheartedly agree. Now I just have to find the balls to do it.





Chapter Twenty Four




Telling imaginary Vincent that I love him is a lot easier than telling the real man. I mean, I’ve already said it once, and look where that got me, so I’m a little gun shy about blurting it all out and making myself vulnerable again.

But Parker’s right. I have to be who I’ve always been and lay everything out, honestly and without expectation. I know that sounds impossible because I should have at least some expectation here; Vincent’s on the marriage train, after all, but I have to be as forward about this as I’ve always been, the way I’d been when we met.