More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

If this wedding weren’t so important to Britta, I would have scrapped the whole plan by now because I simply want to marry her. I don’t care about the pomp and circumstance. But I refuse to take anything away from her fairy-tale dream.

“Keeley knows someone who will do hair and makeup the day of the ceremony. Tuxes?”

After an hour and a half of this crap, I feel as if I’m drowning in details. But I’m determined the ceremony and reception will be perfect.

And none of it matters if I can’t persuade Britta to say yes.

Speaking of which, she’s not back yet. I send her a quick text to ask if she’s all right. A good five minutes pass, and I’m growing worried because she always answers promptly. I’m about to call her when

she replies that she’s driving.

With a deep breath, I sit back in my chair and relax.

“How’s it going with her?” Maxon asks.

“We’re making progress.”

He slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks, man.”

I still can’t believe that we didn’t speak a word to each other for three years. Now everything feels normal, natural. Easy. I’m never going to let my stupidity, temper, or petulance come between us again. I definitely won’t let them part me from Britta a second time.

When she finally pushes the office door open, she’s wearing big sunglasses. Her head is down. She’s shaking.

I cross the office and take her shoulders in hand. “You all right, angel?”

“Fine.”

That’s a lie and I can hear it in her soft voice.

“Talk to me.”

“Can we not do this here?” she whispers, casting a glance in Rob’s direction.

Maxon’s marketing guy is watching with great interest. So is my brother, for that matter.

I bite back a curse and usher her toward the door.

Britta digs in her heels. “No, not out in the parking lot, either. I just need some time to decompress.”

I’m beginning to understand that’s Britta-speak for keeping all her problems to herself. That’s a no-go for me. It contributed to our demise in the past. Oh, I did all the heavy lifting by leaving abruptly and refusing to consider I might be wrong. But my angel also never told me when she was confused, when I hurt her feelings, when she needed more out of me. And I was too stupid to know.

“Not until you tell me what’s upset you. I don’t care whether we do this outside or in my office, but you don’t have to carry this load alone.”

She sighs and tears her shades off, shoving them in her purse, then looks at me as if she’d like to rip my liver out with her teeth. Instantly, I see that her eyes are red. She’s been crying—and not just a little. Now that I look, her nose is powdery. She tried to cover the redness with her compact. Her lips are trembling. “Thank you but…can’t you just leave it?”

I drag her to my office and shut the door. “Who or what upset you?”

She hesitates so long I’m not sure she’s going to answer. “I had lunch with Makaio.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. First, because she saw him without telling me where she was going. Second, because he made her cry.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“He called this morning and said he wanted to share the details of our wedding with me.”

So after last night, she’s not even hesitating about going through with it? I probably shouldn’t be stunned, but I am. I’m completely shocked. “What we have together doesn’t mean anything?”

“I didn’t say that…” She shakes her head. “Griff, I’m supposed to be choosing between now and mid-April.”

“You agreed to spend this time with me so you’d know what life would be like if you and I were married. I guarantee you that if you were my wife, you wouldn’t fucking be having lunch with your ex-lover to—”

She pokes a finger in my chest. “You’re the one who told me that if I wanted to see him, to have lunch. I was taking you at your word.”

I did say that. I meant it flippantly. Shit. Of course Britta listened and followed rules. She’s a good girl at heart. I probably have no right to be pissed off—but I am, especially since she’s been sobbing.

I grind my teeth together. “So what did Makaio say or do to upset you?”

“Nothing, except that he asked me a lot of pointed questions about you and I didn’t know how to answer because I feel goddamn guilty about how deep my feelings for you are. He left angry, and I’m giving him some space, which I’m sure makes you happy as a clam. I don’t want to talk about him with you. And I don’t need you squeezing me for answers.”

“But—”

“You have to back off and stop being an asshole.”

Britta whirls on her coral-colored stilettos and, ass swishing in the off-white dress that hugs her every curve lovingly, she stomps her way out of my office.

That may be the most direct and assertive Britta has ever been with me. It’s a good sign that she’s freely telling me how she feels. But I can’t stand her slamming the door in my face. I definitely won’t tolerate that prick screwing with her emotions.

Come hell or high water, I’m going shut this shit down with Makaio for good.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The old me would have paid Makaio Kale a visit and found out exactly what I could do to exit him from Britta’s life. He doesn’t deserve her if he’s going to tear her apart. This me realizes that she has to willingly choose me as the man she wants to spend her life with.

Of course she’s confused. This is a major life decision, and just because I know what choice she should make doesn’t mean she does. If he’s pressing her to commit now and making her cry, then I want to choose another tactic. I don’t want to be that guy. I definitely don’t want her lumping me in the asshole category again.

It takes every ounce of my patience and self-restraint, but I back off, focus on work and the wedding and making my relationship with Britta the strongest it can be. I try to push out everything I can’t control, like that prick she’s still engaged to.

Unfortunately, he’s not my only problem. Why did work suddenly choose now to explode? Probably because everyone who’s sick of long winters in snow-riddled states decides they’ll dig out of the white stuff after another Snowmageddon and sell the family home in Connecticut or Wisconsin or wherever and move to Maui. Some of those people will stay. Some will realize it’s too far from their family. Some will find out the hard way that the cost of living in Hawaii is high and they won’t be able to afford to stay. Some will get island fever, end up feeling trapped, and move to another warm weather climate on the mainland.

It’s usually fine. But I’ve never been busier. Same with Maxon. Long days are turning into longer weeks that run past me in a giant blur. I barely have time to breathe.

Unfortunately, Britta is running every bit as ragged, taking on duties my brother and I are way too busy to complete. Rob can’t help since he fell in the shower two weeks ago and had to have pins and rods inserted in his ankle. He’s working from home, but since he has to elevate and do physical therapy, he can’t meet and greet clients or coordinate all the other crap that makes a good listing happen.

Evenings at home are short with all the work on our plates and a toddler under foot. I carve out time to give Jamie a bath every night, then Britta and I read him stories together before we tuck him in. He needs that. After that’s done, however, we’re both exhausted. Thank god Harlow is around to play with Jamie and help with dinner. She’s been a godsend from that perspective, and I can tell my sister loves my son. She’ll be happy with a couple kids of her own, I suspect.

With the little bit of spare time I have, I’m running wedding errands. I had a phone call with the officiant Keeley is going to use. He’s a yoga teacher who performs nondenominational ceremonies as a side business. He’s got a Zen vibe. Great. Fine. As long as it’s legal, I don’t care. Britta has never professed any religious preference, so I’m hoping she’ll agree with my choice.