Proving Paul's Promise
Page 46“No, just cover it,” I tell him.
He puts the wrap on and affixes tape, and I pull my shirt over my head. I am dying to see it, but I want to keep Friday from seeing it for now. I’m sold on her, but she’s not so much on me. I don’t know how she’ll take it.
I go into my office and pull out a piece of paper. On it, I draw little hearts around the edges, because I know she likes them. Then in big block letters I write:
WANTED: WIFE
TERMS NEGOTIABLE
ONLY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE
BOMBSHELLS NEED APPLY
PREFERABLY ONES NAMED FRIDAY
I tack it to the bulletin board and go to my office to wait for her to find it.
A knock sounds on my door, and Logan sticks his head in. “What did you think of it?” he asks.
“Close the door,” I reply.
He closes it behind him and leans against it. I go to the mirror and lift my shirt, and then peel back the plastic. He reads my lips in the mirror. “It’s f**king beautiful,” I say. “You changed it?” I look over at him and he shrugs.
I don’t understand. “Why?” It was her. She’s the butterfly.
“She’s not broken,” he says. “So that didn’t fit her.”
I scoff. “Okay.”
“That’s why she’s pushing you away, you idiot,” he says.
I don’t understand, so I throw up my hands and wait.
“You see her as this broken little thing that needs you to take care of her. She doesn’t need that. She might have been broken at one time, but she’s not f**king broken now. She’s put it all back together. She’s made a life for herself, and you’re trying to change it. It’s kind of like she’s built this fortress around herself, brick by f**king brick, and you might think a fortress is too much, but it’s not. Do you know why?”
I can only sit and stare at him.
“Do you want to know why?” he asks.
I nod. My heart is in my f**king throat.
“Because she f**king lives there, Paul. It’s home for her. It’s safe and it’s secure and it’s hers. And she built it with her own two hands. So for you to swoop in and not only try to move her out of her fortress but also to tear it down, you’re f**king up everything she’s worked for. And that’s why she’s rejecting you. It’s not because she doesn’t love you, because I believe she does. It’s because you need her to change for you, and she’s too smart for that.”
I cough into my fist because words won’t come to me.
“I get it,” I say.
He walks toward me and slaps me in the forehead. “You dumb f**ker,” he says. But he laughs and pulls me against his chest and pats my back. He sets me back and looks into my eyes. “Now figure out what you need to do.”
Suddenly, my door flies open, and Friday walks in. She slams the fake advertisement I’d made down on my desk, her palm flat as it strikes the wood. I jump. I can’t help it. There’s no one else in the world who can do this to me.
“What the f**k is this?” she bites out.
Logan steps around her and closes the door on his way out.
I sit back and rest my elbows on the arms of my chair. I want to reach for her, but I know that would get me nowhere. Instead, I slide the paper from under her hand and tear it slowly into two pieces. I let it fall into the wastebasket.
She steps back and puts her hand over her heart. “Why did you do that?” she whispers. “I liked it.”
My heart leaps. “It wasn’t the right thing to do,” I tell her.
“Why not?” she asks.
I scrub a hand down my face. “Will you let me move into your fortress with you?” I blurt out.
Her brow furrows, and she looks so damn cute that I want to kiss her, but I know I can’t.
I get up and walk to her. “That fortress where you reside? Will you let me live there with you?”
“What the f**k are you talking about?” she asks. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me.
“I don’t want to blow all your walls to bits,” I say. She has a piece of hair stuck to her lips, so I pull it away and tuck it behind her ear. “I just want to live inside them with you. Fuck,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I f**king love your walls. Every single brick. But let me move in. Let me be there with you. Then you can find out if you love me, and you can invite me to stay if you find out that you do. Just let me inside.”
I take a deep breath and watch her.
“Did you hit your f**king head on the way to work?” she asks.
I laugh and rub my forehead. “No, but Logan just slapped some sense into me.”
“Then what the f**k is wrong with you?”
“I’m in f**king love with you, Friday!” I cry. “I f**king love you, you irritating, obnoxious, sexy-ass woman that I can’t get out of my f**king head.” I hit myself in the head with my fists like I’m knocking. “I’m in love with you.”
I drop down onto my knees in front of her, and she steps back, so I inch forward until I can pull her belly to touch my forehead. “I’m in love with you.” I look up at her. “I’m on my knees, and I’m not going to try to get you to marry me or make you do anything you don’t want to do. Just let me in, and I’ll be happy with it.”