Chapter 19 #3
"Never again," he says fiercely, pulling back to look at me. "We never sleep apart again."
"Never," I agree, then pull him back down.
We stumble to the couch, clothes disappearing in a trail of urgent need. His hands remember exactly where to touch, how to make me gasp. My nails rake down his back the way he loves, making him groan my name.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against my collarbone. "For not trusting you."
"I'm sorry for not listening." I arch against him as his mouth moves lower.
"No more apologies," he says, then proceeds to make me forget why we were fighting in the first place.
It's intense and emotional and slightly frantic, like we're trying to prove something—to each other, to ourselves. That we're still us. That this thing between us is stronger than our mistakes.
"I love you," I gasp, and he catches the words with his mouth.
When we finally collapse together, breathless and tangled on our couch, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows, everything feels different. Clearer.
"That was..." I trail off, still catching my breath.
"Worth the fighting?" He finishes, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Nothing's worth fighting with you." His arms tighten around me. "But the making up..."
I laugh, the first real laugh in days. "We should probably get off the couch."
"Why?"
"Because Duke will need feeding soon."
"Does he?" He says it contemplatively. "And to think I was contemplating whether Duke would be enough company for the rest of my life."
"Was he?"
"Not even close." He pulls me back down, kissing me slowly this time, thoroughly, like we have all the time in the world. "Five weeks until the wedding."
"Five weeks," I agree. "Think we can make it without another disaster?"
"With our track record?" He grins against my mouth. "Probably not. But I choose you anyway."
"Even when I'm a stubborn, prideful mess who doesn't listen?"
"Especially then."
"Even when I'm a jealous, possessive idiot who jumps to conclusions?"
"Especially then."
We seal it with another kiss, and then another, and suddenly getting off the couch seems much less urgent than round two.
Duke barks from the kitchen, probably wondering about dinner, but we ignore him.
We have more important things to do than move.
When we eventually make it to the kitchen, fully clothed—though I'm wearing Nate's t-shirt instead of Maya's sweatshirt—I call June while Nate makes us actual food for the first time in days.
"Harper Elizabeth Lane, where the hell have you been?" June's voice explodes through the phone before I even say hello. "I have a three-tier sample cake sitting here, and—"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Things have been—"
"Maya told me. Then Mrs. Henderson told me about the market. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. We're okay." I watch Nate moving around our kitchen, making my favorite pasta, and amend, "We're going to be okay."
"So the wedding's still on?"
I look at my engagement ring, which I never took off even when everything was falling apart. "The wedding's still on."
June's squeal probably damages my hearing. "Thank God! Can you come tomorrow? For the tasting?"
"We'll be there."
"Both of you?"
"Both of us."
When I hang up, Nate's watching me with this soft expression. "What?" I ask.
"You said the wedding's still on."
"Was there any doubt?"
"About four hours ago, I thought we were done."
"That was before you defended my honor at the farmer's market." I move to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind while he stirs the sauce. "Before you held my hand in front of the whole town. Before you reminded me why we're worth fighting for."
He turns in my arms, sauce spoon still in hand. "Before you reminded me that love means choosing each other, even when it's hard."
"Especially when it's hard."
My phone buzzes.
Maya:
June says you're home? BOTH of you home?
Me:
Yes.
Maya:
And you're okay?
I look at Nate, who's reading over my shoulder and grinning.
Me:
We're more than okay.
Maya:
Did you have hot reconciliation sex?
Nate laughs and types:
Twice. - Nate
Maya:
TMI but also, yay!
"We should probably tell people the wedding's still on," I say, though the thought of dealing with the town gossip makes me tired.
"Tomorrow," Nate decides. "Tonight, we eat pasta, we don't answer the door, and we pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist."
"What about Daniel? The education center?"
"Daniel's done. I'll make sure of it. And the center will be fine without his money. We'll find other investors—ones who don't assault my fiancée."
The protective edge in his voice makes my stomach flutter even now.
"Five weeks," I say. "Think we can plan the rest of this wedding in five weeks after all this?"
"Harper, we could get married tomorrow in the barn with Duke as the only witness and I'd be happy."
"June would murder us. She's been working on that cake for weeks."
"Then five weeks it is." He kisses me, pasta sauce and promises. "No more drama."
"No more secrets."
"Deal."
We shake on it, then he pulls me in for another kiss, and dinner gets a little delayed.
But we have time. Five weeks, specifically. And this time, we're going to make it.