The Backpack Bride (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Roxy

“ L ook,” Axel says, running a hand through his unkempt hair. The motion reminds me I should’ve taken him in for a haircut weeks ago. “I’m not trying to be a jerk about this, but...family dinner? We’re not a family .”

Everything inside me bristles at Axel’s statement, even though I know it shouldn’t. He’s just in a surly mood because he’d rather stay holed up in his room playing video games than accompany me to Christian’s childhood home. After I picked him up and started back to Christian’s place, I decided to drop the news about tonight’s dinner plans.

“We are family. You and me, I mean.”

“Duh,” he says with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “I know that. I just mean that we aren’t this guy’s family.”

“Well, this guy is the person responsible for helping me adopt you, so let’s be nice and refer to him as Christian, mkay?”

Axel huffs. “Fine. Christian , then. I get that he’s trying to be nice and helpful, but you gotta admit. We’re going to look like a bunch of strays to his rich and famous family.”

“They’re not famous,” I’m quick to point out, though they kind of are around here. “And we are not strays.” I say the last phrase with all the self-righteousness I can muster even though I inwardly agree with his assessment.

“I’m not stepson material, Rox.” Axel shakes his head and stares out the passenger side window. “The way I see it, chumming up to his family is only going to backfire.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I say, gripping the steering wheel tighter to offset the swirling unease in my midsection. “I think we’re going to have a nice dinner and wow his family with our natural charm.”

Axel rolls his head toward me with a deadpan look. “You’re delusional.”

I snort a laugh.

“Can I please just stay at his place?”

I glance over at my nephew with a frown. “No. I’m sorry, but not tonight. This is too important for you to miss. I already let you skip out on the reception against my better judgement. It’s time for you to meet these people.” I hate having to use my authority as his aunt against him, but sometimes he has to do what’s good for him...or for all of us, in this case.

“Look who’s being a jerk now,” he mutters and crosses his arms like a toddler.

I want to fire back and defend myself, but I don’t. There’s really no point. If I didn’t already promise Christian I’d be there, I’d want to stay behind too. Will his parents interrogate me? Axel? That thought makes me squirm. “Just try to be polite tonight, okay? And field any questions about me and Christian as best you can.” I sigh. "Look, you’re getting a new video game out of this, courtesy of Christian, so if I were you, I’d play nice.”

“Yes, Mom.”

We’re silent the rest of the way to our new temporary home, but I don’t miss the subtle awe in Axel’s eyes as we step into the building’s gilded elevator.

“This guy really is loaded,” he murmurs when I hit the button for the top floor.

“I thought we talked about referring to this guy by his name.”

Axel doesn’t respond as he leans against the back of the elevator with a sullen expression.

I face forward and take a deep breath, praying this meet-and-greet goes well. I’m not really sure what’ll happen if it doesn’t. Christian’s putting a ton of faith in me, allowing Axel and me into his life without even really knowing us—knowing our pasts . As much as I tried to prepare him for Axel’s issues, I haven’t done the same for my own. It’s so much easier to sweep the things I want to keep hidden under the rug and pretend like they aren’t wreaking havoc on my conscience.

The ding of the elevator jerks me from my self-loathing. Fishing the key Christian gave me out of my pocket, I head for the double doors to his penthouse. Sweeping the door open, I singsong, “Honey! We’re home!”

Axel huffs a nervous laugh, pinning me with a glare. “Is that necessary?”

“Trust me, he’ll think it’s funny.” I slide the key back into my pocket as Chris appears at the end of the adjacent hall. His wide smile eases the tangle of emotions floating around in my stomach.

“You must be Axel,” he says, bypassing me to offer Axel a handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Axel reluctantly stretches his hand forward to accept Chris’s with a thin-lipped grimace. “Wish I could say the same, but Rox doesn’t kiss and tell.”

My head swivels toward my nephew like it’s on wheels. “Was that necessary?”

Christian’s surprised laugh echoes through the entryway. “I see Roxy’s good sense of humor runs in the family.” He rocks back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “It’s really good to meet you, man. I know our situation is pretty...unorthodox...”—Christian’s gaze shifts briefly to mine—“but I’m hoping we’ll all be in a better position by the end of it.”

Axel grunts in reply. Not exactly the friendliness I was hoping for.

“Well.” I clap my hands together to break the awkward tension and motion down the hall. “Axel, why don’t I show you to your new room?”

Chris smiles as I pass by him, and I silently pray he’s not going to regret his decision to let us live with him. I know how hard Axel is to get to know, how prickly he can be at times. But I’m also hoping that Christian’s good-hearted nature will speak to Axel and reach past the barbed wire he’s wrapped around himself.

As I expected, Axel masks his reaction to the large room Christian offers him. The only telltale sign that he’s happy about his new living situation is the flicker of a smile that vanishes before it fully forms. Right now, his room only has the stuff we brought from the apartment, which admittedly, brings the overall look down a bit.

“With my raise, I might be able to get you a new bed,” I say. “Maybe queen-sized. So the room won’t look so gigantic.”

Axel shrugs and drops his backpack to the floor. “This one’s fine.”

I point to the dresser. “I put all your stuff away, but I’m not sure I got it all in the right drawers, so be sure to double check.”

“K.”

I roll my lips together and cross my arms. “Okay, well...wear something nice for dinner. We’ll be leaving in an hour.”

At that, he levels me with glare. “How nice are we talking?”

“Khakis and something other than those tennis shoes you wear to school. Those things have seen better days.”

He rolls his eyes before falling back on the bed. “Fine.”

“One hour, mister.” I push away from the doorframe.

“I’ll be ready. Shut the door on your way out. Please.”

At least he attempts to be polite to me. Can’t say the same for anyone else. Pursing my lips to keep my smile tucked away, I close the door behind me and breathe a sigh of relief. Not the best introduction, but I suppose it could’ve been worse.

I find Chris in the kitchen, mixing up a drink. “Axel getting settled in?” he asks as I amble toward him.

“Yeah. Hope so, anyway.” I lean against the counter and watch the delicate precision with which he slices a juicy lemon.

“It’ll take time. Teenagers can be hard to reach.”

You have no idea , I think. Axel isn’t a typical teenager, but I don’t bother to explain it to Chris. We won’t be here long enough for it to matter. Six months, a year tops. Long enough to make Axel permanently mine.

Christian pours whatever blended drink he made into two separate glasses, then garnishes each with a slice of lemon. “Here you go. Looked like you could use a drink.” His borderline flirty wink makes my heart skip a beat.

I take his offering with a little laugh. “You’ll probably be saying the same thing by the end of the night. But, um...” I blink down at the fruity drink. “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” he huffs a laugh of his own. “It’s non-alcoholic.” Red creeps up from under his collar. “Guess I forgot to disclose that I also do not drink. Except for the occasional glass of champagne at a company party, I avoid alcohol.”

Relief rushes through me. Not necessarily because of some moral obligation, but because of the part alcohol played in my life. It became a vice my dad and others I loved couldn’t break free from. Knowing I won’t have to worry about that with Christian eases an old ache I didn’t even realize was there until now.

He takes a sip of the drink, prompting me to do the same. The fruitiness I detected earlier tastes like pear and something else I can’t quite—

“It’s kiwi,” he says with a knowing grin. “That’s the secret ingredient.”

“How’d you know that’s what I was wondering?”

His grin widens as he waves a finger at my face. “You get a little crease right between your brows when you’re thinking hard about something.” A breathy what is the only response I manage in the face of his astuteness. “It’s true,” he counters, taking a deliberate step toward me. “Right—” He lightly presses the tip of his finger against my forehead. “There.”

My breath catches at the contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters, retreating a step. My cheeks flame with embarrassment. Was I really so affected by the barest hint of pressure from his pointer finger?

Deciding to quickly skirt the subject to distract myself, I ask, “Is this something you do for all your girlfriends? Make them special mocktails?”

When his eyes widen, I realize what an idiot I am. Did I seriously just equate me with someone he’d actually choose for himself? Sputtering through the sip I mistakenly tried to take, I cough uncomfortably. He reaches out to help me, but I shoo him off with a wave of my hand.

“I’m fine,” I croak, then clear my throat. “Seriously. I’m good.”

His lopsided smile spreads before dimming a bit. “I’m not exactly the rich playboy the local press tries to paint me out to be.”

According to Chantelle, that tracks. She assured me that Christian only takes female friends or coworkers to events where he might need a date. His only semi-serious romantic relationship that I could dig up was with Stefany, the willowy redhead who is the opposite of me in every way. Not that it matters since he and I are not romantically involved.

“So...no, then?” I ask.

A smirk starts on his lips. “I’ve been known to dabble in the art of mocktail making. But you’re the first person who’s gotten to try this particular concoction. It’s a new recipe.” He takes another sip, never once taking his eyes off mine. The action feels intimate. Painfully so, after all this talk of relationships.

“I-is it yours?” My stupid voice shakes. Who knows why.

“Hm?”

“The recipe.”

“Oh,” he says with a laugh. “Yeah. I made it up.”

“It’s really good.” I take another sip to prove that I’m not just trying to stroke his ego and relish the smoothness as it goes down. The urge to ask why he doesn’t drink alcohol is strong, but I’m afraid if I do, he’ll ask me why I don’t in return. And I’m not ready to talk about my past. Probably won’t ever be. Not with someone who isn’t meant to stay. Besides, I’m not sure I’m ready for the aftermath of him finding out my secrets.

“I, uh, wanted to tell you,” Christian says, his expression sobering. “If there’s anything Axel needs while he’s here, don’t hesitate to ask. I have very little experience with kids, outside of being one myself once. And though I wish I could, I can’t read your mind.” He pauses, that smile of his coming back out to play. “I want you to tell me if there’s something either of you need.”

“Christian. I don’t intend to use you like an ATM machine. Just because we’re married—”

“Hey.” He holds up a hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But that’s exactly what you’re offering, isn’t it?” I hold his stare until he blinks and looks away.

“Roxy, what I’m offering is a chance for you and Axel to start over fresh.”

For the second time today, tears threaten to blur my vision, but he continues before I give them a chance to fall.

“Look, I’m not asking you to tell me everything that led you to crying alone in the supply room at work. I’m not even asking you to explain why you moved around from place to place before you became a temp with us.” My heart pumps erratically at the truth he somehow knows. My work file . Duh. Silently cursing the work database, I refrain from interrupting him when he advances toward me.

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “But I’ll listen if you ever feel like telling me your story. I know you’re trying to rebuild your life. And I want to help you and Axel. You guys are doing me the favor of a lifetime by posing as my family. I’ll finally get to hold the thing I’ve been working my lifetime for in the palm of my hand because of you . Taking care of you guys is the absolute bare minimum that I could do to return the favor.”

My heart continues its frenetic pace as Christian’s words seep into my bones. I haven’t divulged much of anything to him, other than that I needed his help to get Axel, yet somehow, he’s picked up on the fact that I’m mere shreds of the person I used to be. That I need a fresh start.

And being seen like that, being known without ever having to breathe a word of the sordid details, has me crumpling with gratefulness.

“Hey,” Christian croons, wrapping me up in his arms. “It’s okay.” I sob into his chest and cling to his sweater like it’ll keep me anchored to him indefinitely. “I’m here, Roxy. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

How? How does he know that’s the exact right thing I need to hear?

“Because you just lost someone close to you. Someone you didn’t think you’d have to lose so young.”

I sniffle and bury my face more deeply into Christian’s well-defined chest. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.” He doesn’t laugh, though I sputter a watery one.

“You’re grieving, Roxy. You’re probably feeling lost and alone right now. Add all this extra stuff with Axel on top of it...it’s no wonder you took me up on my offer so quickly.” His hands lightly roam over my spine, then sweep upward toward my hair. “Is it safe to venture that...maybe you’re tired of having to do all this alone?”

I’m too ashamed of my weepiness to meet his eyes, but I nod into his firm chest. “Mmhm.”

“And is it safe to also assume that you’ve had to work your sexy butt off for everything in life, so it’s hard to accept help from someone?”

A chortle escapes me. “You think my butt is sexy ?”

His hands tighten on my lower back. “I didn’t say that. You’re imagining that part.”

I ease back with another laugh. “You definitely said that part. Are you deflecting?”

His lazy smile grows as his gaze seems to take in all of me. “It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“Me trying to make you laugh."

Adoration expands in my chest like a shiny, bright balloon. “Yeah.” I smile. “I guess it did.”

He brushes one of my unruly strands away from my face. “Now that you’re not crying anymore, let me finish.” His steel blue eyes radiate with purpose. “I know you’re a hard worker, and that you’ve probably had to fight tooth and nail for Axel since his dad died. Plus, right now, you probably feel alone like never before. But you’re not, okay? You’ve got me for as long as you want. Even if we’re no longer married, you’ll still have me as a friend. I promise that you don’t have to go through all this by yourself.”

My chest continues to expand, soaking up the reassurance Christian freely gives. But my mind tells me that he’s just being nice. That generosity comes as naturally to him as running from my problems does to me. I’m likely a charity case to him, a way to give back. Chantelle warned me that Christian has a heart of gold underneath his business-like persona, that he’d give the shirt off his back for someone if they needed it. But I didn’t realize that someone would be me.

“I appreciate it, Chris,” I say with a forced smile. “You’re a great friend.”

His expression shutters as his hands fall from my back. “Right.” He shifts away. “So promise you’ll tell me if you need something?”

I nod and grab my drink from the counter just so I have something to do with my hands.

“Hey, Rox.” Axel’s voice drifts from the living room. I peek around the wall separating the kitchen from the main living area to find him standing on Christian’s rug in those awful, dirty tennis shoes. “How’s this look?”

I give him a once-over and deem his outfit family dinner worthy. “Not bad. But lose the shoes.”

With an exasperated groan, he stomps back down the hall, muttering, “Man, I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

I chuckle and turn toward Christian. “Sorry about your rug. I’ll make him take his shoes off from now on.”

Chris shrugs. “It’s just a rug, Roxy.”

“A rug that’s probably worth an entire paycheck of mine.”

His head tilts in an almost accusatory way. “I thought we just discussed this.”

“Did we?” I sass, feeling lighter now that I’m past my awkward outburst.

Chris starts to walk by me, then stops. Leans into my space. “In case I didn’t make myself clear before...” He lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “As long as you’re under my roof, anything you two need—or even want—is on me. Save your paychecks, Roxy. Put them in the bank and let them sit there. From now on, I take care of you.”

A shiver races down my spine at the command in his tone. The hopeful romantic living inside me who devours romance in every genre begs to melt into him, while the stubborn, sensible fighter I worked hard to be bristles at his insistence. And wins.

“I’m not a charity case, Christian.”

A deep furrow mars his brow, but he doesn’t back down. “No, you’re not. But you are my wife . And like it or not, I take care of what’s mine. Even if you won’t be mine forever.”

I swallow down the argument that tries to formulate in response to his possessiveness. Because for once, it feels nice to be claimed. To be so thoroughly seen and cared for. Even if it won’t last, even if all my feminine sensitivities sound the alarm that I’ll live to regret this later, right now, I allow his promise to hold true. Because belonging to someone who’s good and kind is the silent dream of my heart. The invisible hope I’ve nursed for years but never spoken aloud.

And the fact that Christian wants me to depend on him, the remarkable fact that he’s not running when he has every reason to, makes me wish that I could be his for real.