Page 18 of What About Now

I have very few memories of the night that changed our lives, and I hate that. I hate being out of control, and men, well, they intimidate me. Not in the sense that I’m afraid of all men, but intimacy. Hell yes. I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin, and as far as I can remember, I’ve never seen—outside of porn—a penis that I can remember.

So, yeah, seeing my husband, who I married while drunk in Vegas, hard after waking up next to me caused my cheeks to blush. I’m in over my head here. I never should have said yes to him.

I try to calm my heated libido. I put all of my attention on the coffeepot, which is why I didn’t hear Maddox come into the kitchen. In fact, it’s not until I feel his hands on my hips and his lips brushing against my neck, with his mumbled, “Morning, baby,” that I even know he’s here with me.

“Morning,” I reply, because ignoring him doesn’t feel right. “What time is your client?” I ask, remembering he has one this afternoon sometime.

“Not until two. It’s a new client, and the note says,uncertain. This could be a long appointment or a short one.” He chuckles.

“Does that happen often?”

“Not a lot, but you’d be surprised by the people who come in for an appointment with no idea what they want on their body for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s a big decision.” I nod. “You don’t seem to have that same issue.” I let my eyes trail over his body. Did I mention he’s still only in his boxer briefs? When I reach his face, he’s smirking, and I quickly avert my gaze to the coffeepot as I watch it brew.

“Wasn’t an issue for me. Do you have any tattoos?”

“No. Briar and I said we were going to get them growing up, but once we were old enough and didn’t need our dad’s permission, life threw us for a tailspin, and we never did.”

“Well, when you’re ready, I hear your husband is pretty damn good at what he does.” He smirks.

I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” The coffeepot splutters, letting me know it’s done, and I get busy making our coffees. I’ve spent enough time with Maddox to know he likes his black, whereas I take two sugars and two creams in mine. I slide Maddox his cup as I take a quick pull of mine, only it comes off more like a slurp. Apparently, embarrassing myself in front of my new husband is the only thing I’m capable of doing these days.

“Thank you.” He smiles and doesn’t seem to mind I’m slurping my coffee like an addict jonesing for her next fix. “I’m going to shower and then run to my place to grab some more clothes and my laptop, and whatever else I can find that I think I might need. I’ll pack the rest later and get the guys to help me move it all. I’ll probably just put my furniture in storage.”

“That seems like a lot of hassle for six months.”

“You agreed to six months, but, Brogan, we’re endgame, baby. You can come over to my place and see if there is anything of mine furniture wise you want to use here,” he says, as if selling his furniture or putting it into storage is no big issue. “We can figure out what to do with it later. Now, I just want to be here with you. I’m giving you and this marriage everything I have, Brogan.”

I swallow a burning gulp of coffee, letting his words sink in. “We agreed to this. For the time being, this is your home,” I say. Do I think it’s a waste of time for him to put everything in storage for six months? Sure, but he’s a grown man and can decide for himself. Who am I to tell him what to do? I tried to tell him I was a mess, and he still insists we can do this whole being drunk-married thing and find our happily ever after. “Bring whatever you need or want to make this place feel like home.”

“You, Brogan. You make this place my home.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say what you feel. I want this to work between us. Communication is an important part of every marriage and every relationship. It’s just me, Brogan. You can tell me anything. You can say anything. I’m still going to be here.”

“This is a lot, Maddox. We went from acquaintances, friends of friends if you will, to being married, and you’re talking like we’re forever.”

“We were friends. More than acquaintances. And I want this to be forever. I know you’re not where I am right now, and that’s okay. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time.”

“That’s what you’ve said.”

He shrugs. “It’s my truth. I can feel it here.” He places his hand over his chest, and my heart races as if it has a direct connection to his. “We can go the distance, and maybe you’re right, maybe we can’t,” he’s quick to add. “But I want to find out. I want to give this thing between us everything I’ve got. I want toknow at the end of this, if there has to be an end, that I gave you one-hundred-percent of me. If you make me walk away, I want to know it’s without regrets.”

“When I tell you that I’m a mess, Maddox, I mean it. There is so much about me, my past, my fears, my inexperience.” I let that confession hang between us. “I hate to see you get your hopes up and then be disappointed.”

“Never.” He stands and walks to the sink, rinsing out his cup before coming to stand next to me. He pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on my head. “I could never be disappointed in you, Brogan. Give it all to me—your past, your fears, and your inexperience. Add in the inability to trust too. I want it all, baby. I’ll prove to you that you are not broken. You are not damaged, and you’re not a mess. What you are is my wife, my beautiful wife.”

“I want to believe that,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. It’s been one hell of a rollercoaster the last couple of days.

“Do you want to come with me to my place?”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but changing the subject isn’t it. I guess I assumed he’d keep trying to convince me that we’re not fucking this up.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“You’re my wife now, Brogan. You’ve got shotgun no matter where I am. I don’t care where I’m going or who I’m with. It will always be a better time if you’re with me.”

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