After We Fell (After 3)

I think, maybe, if I continue to not be a fuckup during the week, I’ll be rewarded with times like this every weekend, and that’s enough for me to hold on to until she can see how devoted I am to improving myself for her.

“HOW MANY TIMES are you going to call me?” I bark through the line. My phone has been buzzing all night and morning with my mum’s name flashing on the screen. Tessa keeps waking up and, in turn, waking me up. I swear I put the damn thing on silent the last time.

“You should have answered! I have something important to talk to you about.” Her voice is soft, and I can’t remember the last time I spoke to her.

“Get to it, then,” I groan and instinctively lean up to turn the lamp on. The light from the small lamp is much too bright for this early hour, so I tug the string and return the room to its original state of darkness.

“Well, here goes . . .” She lets out a deep breath. “Mike and I are going to be married.” She squeals into the phone, and I move the device from my ear for a moment to save my hearing.

“Okay . . .” I say, expecting more.

“Aren’t you surprised?” she questions, obviously disappointed in my reaction.

“He told me he was going to ask you, and I figured you’d say yes. What is there to be surprised about?”

“He told you?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at the dark, rectangular shapes of some photos hanging on the wall.

“Well, what do you think about it?”

“Does it matter?” I ask her.

“Of course it matters, Hardin.” My mum sighs, and I sit up fully. Tessa stirs in her sleep and reaches for me.

“I don’t care either way. I was a little surprised, but what do I care if you get married?” I whisper, wrapping my legs around Tessa’s smooth legs.

“I’m not asking for your permission. I just wanted to see how you felt about the whole thing so I could tell you the reason I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I’m fine with it, now tell me.”

“As you know, Mike thought it would be a good idea to sell the house.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s sold. The new owners won’t be moving in until next month, until after the wedding.”

“Next month?” I rub my temples with my index finger. I knew I shouldn’t have picked up the damn phone this early.

“We were going to wait until next year, but neither of us is getting any younger, and with Mike’s son going off to university, there’s no better time than now. It should start warming up in the next few months, but we don’t want to wait. It may be chilly, but it won’t be unbearable. You’ll come, won’t you? And bring Tessa?”

“So the wedding is next month, or in two weeks?” My brain doesn’t function this fucking early.

“Two weeks!” she responds with glee.

“I don’t think I can . . .” I trail off. It’s not that I don’t want to join the joyous festivities of a requited love and all that shit, but I don’t want to go all the way to England, and I know Tessa isn’t going to come along on such short notice, especially given the state of our relationship right now.

“Why not? I’ll ask her myself if I—”

“No, you won’t.” I cut her off. Realizing that I’m being a little harsh, I backtrack. “She doesn’t even have a passport.” It’s an excuse, but a truthful one.

“She can get one within two weeks if they expedite it.”

I sigh. “I don’t know, Mum, give me a little time to think about it. It’s seven in the damn morning.” I groan and end the call, then realize I didn’t even say congratulations. Fuck. Well, it’s not like she expected it from me necessarily.

From down the hall, I hear someone scavenging through fucking cabinets. I pull the thick duvet over my head to drown out the noise of slamming and the obnoxious beeping of a dishwasher, but the noises don’t abate. The cacophony continues until I guess I just fall asleep in spite of it.

Chapter one hundred and four

HARDIN

It’s a little past eight, and I can see through the living room to the kitchen, where Tessa is fully dressed, eating breakfast with Kimberly.

Shit, it’s Monday already. She has to go to work, and I have to drive back to school. I’ll miss today’s classes, but I couldn’t care less. I’ll have my diploma in less than two months.

“Are you going to wake him up?” Kimberly asks Tessa just as I walk in.

“I’m up.” I groan, still groggy from sleep. I slept more peacefully last night than I have all week. My first night here we were up nearly the entire night.

“Hey.” Tessa’s smile lights up the dim room, and Kimberly covertly slides off the high stool she’s sitting on and leaves us alone. Which means she’s set a new record for not annoying me.

“How long have you been up?” I ask Tessa.

“Two hours. Christian said I could have an extra hour, since you weren’t awake.”

“You should have woken me up earlier.” My eyes greedily rake down her body. She’s dressed in a deep red button-down shirt tucked into a solid black, knee-length pencil skirt. The material hugs her hips in a way that makes me want to bend her over the stool, push her skirt up to reveal her panties—lace panties, perhaps—and take her right here, right now . . .

She calls me out from my thoughts. “What?”

The front door closes, and I’m relieved that we’re finally alone in the massive house.