Chapter 25
Harper
I was so exhausted last night, I fell asleep on the couch. Then woke up at four a.m. with a neck like concrete and crawled into bed.
After tossing and turning, I gave up trying to sleep. When I heard my sister and niece moving around, I rolled out of bed and updated them about my marriage plans. I also warned them that James would be coming around this morning.
I know they’re still digesting it.
I then rushed to shower and get ready.
When the knock on the door comes this morning, I’m still not at full speed. Freya beats me to the door.
My overprotective niece, who’s going through a goth phase, is all fire and sass as she stares down my boss, I mean, my husband-to-be.
"James Hamilton." He holds out a hand.
He’s wearing formal slacks and a full sleeve button down with a jacket. Like a ruthless businessman who’s going to walk into a meeting and decimate his opponents. The power that radiates off him punches me in the chest. He’s so sinfully gorgeous he looks like Hades come to life.
I brace myself against the doorframe of my bedroom, taking him in.
Then wince when Freya ignores his proffered hand. "Come in."
My niece heads to the armchair in the living room and takes a seat.
James takes her cue and folds his big body into the settee at a right angle to her chair.
I watch James look around my home and see it through his eyes.
The mismatched furniture which Briar and I picked up at yard sales, the picture frames with photos of me, Briar and Freya, shoes scattered about, the different colored cushions on the settees, the bookshelf with the secondhand books we’ve collected over the years.
It opens into the kitchen on one side. Directly in front of him is a short hallway which leads to the two bedrooms and a shared bathroom.
Wonder if he judges the apartment for being modest?
It’s a far cry from the meticulously organized kitchen he likes to keep.
Bet it triggers his need for perfection. I chuckle inwardly.
"You must be Freya." He fixes her with the direct gaze that has reduced many of my team members in the kitchen to nervous wrecks.
Not my niece, though.
She folds her arms across her chest and glares right back at him.
"You’re a cook?"
I cough.
Damn, this is going to make him throw a fit. He’s probably going to lose his cool and growl at her. I take a step forward ready to interrupt. But to my surprise he shoots me an amused glance, and a look which says relax.
I still.
He softens his gaze and leans back. "I’m a chef, yes."
"You work Auntie Harper too hard."
I rub my temple. I may have complained a little—okay, a lot—about the workload to Briar. Freya must have overheard me. She may only be ten, but she has the awareness of someone twice her age.
"Do I now?" James’ voice is serious.
He’s giving his entire attention to Freya. Treating her like he would an adult. My respect for him skyrockets. I don’t know if he’s interacted with other preteens, but he’s doing the right thing.
Freya nods solemnly. "Last night, she came home so tired, she didn’t even make it to her bedroom. She fell asleep on the couch." She points to where he’s sitting.
He raises his gaze to mine.
"Here?" He touches the spot next to where he’s sitting and runs his palm in a slow circle over it.
Goosebumps pop on my arms. It’s as if he touched me by touching the couch I slept on last night.
Our eyes meet and hold.
The air between us seems to turn almost liquid with longing. It’s so syrupy that it feels impossible to breathe through.
There’s a fluttering sensation in my chest. Between my legs. I feel like I’m going to combust with this need for him. No matter that my niece is in the room between us.
"Are you in love with my auntie?"
Freya’s words land like a bomb between us.
His gaze shoots to my face. He gives me a look that’s part incredulous, part amused.
I’m sure, now is when he’s going to tell my niece that she’s too young to be asking these questions.
Likely, he’ll tell her to butt out of his business.
But he turns his full attention on her and places his fingertips together.
His body language signals that he’s taking her question very seriously.
"Your auntie and I, we…uh, we care for each other," he murmurs.
He's not completely wrong. We both have Phe in common, and we don’t want to hurt her. I have cared for him since I first saw him, so…it’s not a complete lie. In fact, in a roundabout way, we want what’s best for each other. From certain angles, this could be true.
Freya tilts her head. Her back is to me, so I can’t see her face. Although I can imagine the keen sharpness in her eyes.
My sister appears at the entrance to her bedroom. She takes in the scene in front of her and turns to me, curiosity in her gaze.
I shake my head, indicating that she should stay where she is. She nods, training her gaze on her daughter.
"We are getting married because we have the same priorities," James replies carefully.
"Priorities," she repeats.
Freya’s a clever girl, who loves words. I can claim a small part in that. Since she was three, I’ve been teaching her a new word every day. She now has a vocabulary that’s better than most grown-ups I meet.
"We want the same thing."
"What’s that?" I hear the curiosity in her tone.
"For your auntie to achieve her dream of becoming a head chef. And for us both to do the work we love."
Which is true. And the way he’s phrased it is in words that a ten-year-old can understand.
"Okay." She nods. "So, it’s useful for both of you to get married."
"You could say that." He shifts around in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. I’ve never seen James this on edge. Not even with his team.
Definitely not when he’s showing investors around the kitchen either. I give him credit for not running away from the conversation and treating my niece like an adult. That’s also the reason why I decide it’s time to rescue him.
"He’s right." I step into the living room and walk over to join him on the couch, while making sure that the length of it is still between us.
"We’re getting married because we are better together than not." Which is not untrue. And it falls short of sounding too cold.
I don’t want this little girl to think that all marriages have such a logical basis.
Her forehead furrows. I know she’s thinking it through. Sure enough, she asks, "But my dad did not think it was better for him to be with my mum."
I dart my gaze to my sister who firms her lips.
"Your father was not ready to take on the role of being a parent. But I was. I’ll always be there for you, sweetie. Like I’m sure James will be there for your auntie.” She flashes James a look which implies, if he isn’t, she’s going to come after him.
Which is sweet of Briar.
As discussed with James, I told Briar a carefully edited, stripped-down version of the truth that was compliant with the non-disclosure clause in the agreement.
I implied to her that this was a mutually beneficial arrangement.
She also knows that James isn’t a complete stranger to me.
I tried to give her enough to satisfy her curiosity. My sister finally came around to believing my reasons for getting married as being compelling enough.
But like Phe, she's putting her own spin on it.
She wants to believe that this marriage is real, and that James will be there for me.
I decided not to correct her. If it makes her happy to believe in this scenario, then why not? There’s no harm done. That doesn't mean I don't feel guilty for keeping secrets from her.
Briar crosses over to Freya’s chair and perches on the armrest. "I’ll never leave you." She puts her arm around Freya’s shoulder and hugs her.
My niece is stiff for a few seconds. Then she hugs her back, before pushing her away. "Ugh, Mum, you’re embarrassing me."
Freya jumps up to her feet.
"I’m gonna go read Harry Potter." Suddenly, she’s back to being ten again. Without a second glance at me and James, she skips into her room. The door slams shut behind her.
Briar turns to us. "Sorry ‘bout that. She’s at that precocious age."
"No need to be." James flashes her a smile, which drips with charm. It’s the smile he uses when he wants to get his way with people.
And judging by how Briar’s gaze widens and how she beams back, it’s working.
"Not that Freya was wrong in the questions she asked." She turns to James. "If you do anything to hurt my sister I’ll kill you."
The words are delivered in a sweet voice. But the steel underlying them is clear.
James seems taken aback, then admiration flickers in his eyes. His features soften.
"I will never hurt Harper. I will do everything in my power to make her happy."
He leans forward, his expression intent.
"I’ll put my life on the line if that’s what’s needed to keep her smiling. I’ll always be in her corner. You can rely on me to fight for her. I’d lose everything before I let her down."
His bearing is military straight. His words feel like an oath.
"As long as I breathe, I’ll ensure she wants for nothing."
Except love.
I almost say it aloud, but stop myself at the last minute. He’s been clear that feelings are not involved for him in this agreement. It’s not fair for me to expect that from him.
But his words are still a shocker. They sound genuine. He sounds genuine. Like he means it. In fact, it sounds like he cares for me, which is ridiculous.
My sister sighs. "You said this marriage isn’t about love." She turns to me. “But his promise to take care of you and protect you. To be there for you to lean on is far more important than saying I love you."
Something painful flickers across her face.
She’s, no doubt, drawing from her own experience with Freya’s father. He told her he loved her, then walked away when she needed him most.
I can’t deny there’s truth to what she’s saying. However, I do want love in the equation. His promises feel incomplete without it.
In a daze, I gather my phone and slide it into my handbag. Then I say goodbye to Freya in her room and hug Briar goodbye before following James out.
I wasn’t able to share the entire truth with my sister. It’s dawning on me how difficult it's going to be to keep secrets from my friends too.
I’m uncomfortable with this, but there’s no turning back now.
James is only playing a role. Very convincingly, but it’s still a role, nevertheless.
No matter how much I wish that he meant what he said, he didn’t.