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HARPER
*
AS IT TURNED OUT, ROWLEY's idea of a series of one night stands, did not allow for a single night off. He’d gotten even more demanding recently, insisting that I sleep in his bed even when he was working a twenty four hour shift. And I did it, without complaint. Because all my tough talk about not wanting anything more than an extended hookup, was just that—talk.
At this point, I was basically using the guesthouse as a storage unit, like a very large dressing room. It allowed me to maintain the pretense of living independently.
I’d felt him stir this morning. He was up before dawn for work. And I’d known instinctively that he wanted me, and had angled myself so that he could enter me from behind. He rocked into me long and sweet. I’d gotten on the pill at his insistence, but I enjoyed the benefits as much as he did. Sex without a condom felt sinfully good.
We were starting to fall into a sort of routine like a committed couple. Tonight, rather than eating at the station, he was coming home for dinner. I grabbed the bag of groceries out of the car and let myself in with the key he'd put on my keychain.
He wasn't thrilling to cook for. I couldn't really practice any new culinary skills. He was basically a meat and potatoes man and though he'd tried a few adventurous dinners that I'd prepared he did it without enthusiasm. I was sticking with the basics tonight, roast beef and potatoes with a side of coleslaw.
The day had started out cool and overcast, but now it was warm enough for me to putter around the house in my frayed cutoffs and a tank top. I'd clipped my hair back in a messy bun and was just basting the roast with drippings when he came in. I closed the oven door, set the spoon down, and turned to him with a smile. My gaze feasted on him in his firefighter’s uniform.
"Go put on something pretty and I'll take you out."
I frowned in confusion. "But I already made dinner. I just need to make the gravy and mash the potatoes."
He raked his fingers through his hair. He strode across the kitchen floor, dragged his hand through his hair again, and then walked out of the room.
Something was up. He was making me nervous.
I lifted the lid on the pot and tested a potato with a fork then replaced the lid. I sensed him pacing in the living room.
He stepped back into the kitchen and without a word he pulled me into his arms and dipped his head. His kiss was demanding, his tongue delving deeply. I clung to him, lifting myself onto my toes. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped kissing me and swung me up and plunked me down on the island. I reached for him but he backed up.
"This isn't working for me."
My stomach dropped. "What isn't?" I was trying to make sense of that amazing kiss followed by those ominous words.
"This arrangement. I want more from you."
More sex? More what? I felt like I went out of my way to spoil him.
Rowley dug something out of his pocket and then unfurled his fist. He was holding what looked suspiciously like a ring box.
He popped open the lid and I pulled in a stunned breath. A brilliant square-cut diamond set on a delicate platinum band glittered against the wine-colored silk of the box’s interior. I coveted that ring the instant I saw it.
He was watching me carefully. "Marry me, Harper?"
I clasped my hands together to stop them from trembling. "I don't understand. I thought you considered me too much of a risk."
The expression on his face grew wary.
"I haven't changed my mind, baby. I know marrying you is a gamble. But what you are offering me now isn't nearly enough."
"Be still my heart," I said sarcastically. "But you're right it would be a gamble. I'm not good at marriage. It would just wreck me to fail again."
"So you expect to fail...with me. That's fucking perfect."
"Why can't we just go on as we are?" I heard the pleading in my voice.
"Because, dammit, I want you to be my wife."
I refused him with a shake of my head.
"So I don't even get a chance, is that it? Yet you had no problem promising yourself to some asshole you barely knew."
"You don't understand. I have so much more to lose here if I fail."
"Give me a fucking break." His jaw was pulsing in anger as he snapped the box shut and jammed it into his pocket. "All this domestic, good little wifey stuff you do. Cooking my favorite meals." He gestured toward the dining room table. "The flowers, the candles. It's just for show. You're a beautiful little con artist, baby. And I'm done."
Just like that he was ending us. Shock slammed through my system. I scooted off the counter and landed on wobbly legs. I grabbed for him to steady myself, taking hold of his shirt, my fingers grazing the hard body beneath. I let go of him immediately as if I'd touched fire.
I felt disembodied as if I was watching myself go through the motions of slipping my feet into my flip-flops and walking over to the couch to retrieve my purse.
"That house is yours for as long as you want."
"I'll be out by the end of the month." I grabbed up the bottle of wine I'd brought over. I was going to need something to help knock me out.
"Don't even think of running back to your ex."
"You just lost any right to make demands," I said as I headed for the exit.
I closed the door and all the fight went out of me. I felt limp and drained. This was the end of my joy.
Once in the cottage, I didn't bother turning on any lights. I dropped my belongings onto the couch. Opening the wine bottle required more effort than I had to give. I made my way to the bathroom by feel. Still in the dark, I turned on the shower, stripped off my clothes and stumbled into the stall, knocking over a couple of shampoo bottles.
I'd always wanted roots, something solid or so I'd thought, but almost from the moment I'd been married I'd chafed at the restrictions. I'd felt tethered to a life I didn't want. Wrong, I'd been tethered to a man I didn't want. I wanted Rowley...I would always want Rowley.
Regret felt like a boulder weighing me down, my shoulders slumped and I pressed my forehead against the tiles. Despite his judgmental proposal, I should have said, “yes.” My whole body heaved as I sobbed. It wouldn't have been a gamble. I knew in my heart I'd never leave him...and yet I'd just rejected him.
I smacked the tile in frustration. A psychologist would probably have a field day with my penchant for self-sabotage. Was I punishing myself because I'd failed Finn? But why? I'd had no secrets from him. Finn knew why I married him, knew I wasn't in love with him.
The hot water turned tepid and soon I was shivering under cold water. It struck me that Rowley had never said a word of love to me. I'd always assumed it was because he didn't want me to reciprocate in kind. That he still dismissed my feelings for him as some sort of fevered fantasy. Was the universe righting a wrong, getting even with me? And for your next marriage the tables will turn and you will be wed to a man who doesn't love you. Sorry to blow your plans, universe, but I'd just stopped that marriage from ever happening.