Page 102 of Receiving His Mercy
“We’re not in a relationship!” she cried.
He was delusional.
“Sure, we are. I’m your boyfriend and you’re mine.”
“I’m yours? I’m your girlfriend?” she asked.
“That’s what I said.”
Not exactly. But she was focusing on the wrong part anyway. It didn’t matter how he wanted to label her when she didn’t actually belong to him in any capacity.
“We aren’t in a relationship. That was a lie you told everyone last night to help me. Which I appreciate. But the exhibition is over and things can go back to normal.”
“Yep, they can. The new normal.”
25
If this hadn’t been such an important conversation, he might have laughed at the frustrated expression on her face.
But his mind was made up. She needed him. He wanted her.
It was perfect.
And yeah, maybe she didn’t fit the criteria he’d been using to search for a girlfriend. She certainly wasn’t uncomplicated. Or simple. She wouldn’t just slot on into his life without making waves.
But what the fuck had he been thinking? That sounded . . . terrible. He would have been bored within months if not weeks. And then what? Stuck in a relationship that he didn’t want?
No. He wanted chaos and craziness. Pure beauty and kindness and passion.
This woman was meant to be in his life. He’d fucked things up when they were younger and he was dumb. But they’d been children then.
Now, they were both adults.
And it didn’t worry him that she was taking longer to realize this . . . she just needed to get with the program. But he could be patient.
He’d give her an hour or two.
And people said he was an inflexible guy.
“New normal?” she asked with trepidation.
“Yes, the sort of normal where I hold open doors and carry stuff for you, where I get to know where you are, what you’re doing, and when you’ll be home. Where I take you out for dinner or other dates and hold your hand and kiss you. I pick you up, I walk you to the door, and when we’re ready, I stay over with you or you stay with me. And I introduce you as mine.”
“Pretty much all of that happens now! Except the dinner and dates.”
“Well, I went to an exhibition with you last night, that’s sort of a date, and I cooked breakfast for you this morning.”
“Those are not dates!”
“Fair enough. I can take criticism and learn from it. I’m an evolved guy.”
“No you’re not,” she told him.
“We’ll go on a date tonight. Wait, tonight we’re going to Whip It. Does that count as a date?”
“No.”
“Yeah, I guessed not. We’ll go out tomorrow night.”
