More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

“Just before I turned seventeen, I had a relationship with an acquaintance of my mom’s. Julia. She was divorced and had kids a few years younger than me. I started doing her lawn one summer…and she made it clear she wanted me to do her, too.”

I still remember the forbidden thrill, the way she always made me feel like a man. I worshipped her. I didn’t care that she was almost thirty-five. She was beautiful and smart and savvy. She ran her home-grown business and her personal life like a shark, and I admired the hell out of her for it. She taught me a lot about a woman’s body, about sex. I’m sure people would call her a pedophile, but I was all too willing.

“So you did?” Britta grimaces as she asks.

“Yeah. I thought what we had was important to her. That it was real. By the time winter rolled around, she broke it off abruptly. No warning. No explanation. She told me off-handedly one day, after I put my clothes back on and she showed me the door, that she had hired a new lawn boy. I shrugged, thinking that if she wanted someone else to do the yard, that was fine by me. I was tired of the pretense. When I talked about being glad to see her somewhere other than her house, now that we’d ditched the cover story, she laughed at me as she explained in small words that it was over. It never once occurred to me that she’d been planning to do away with me for weeks and simply waited for the most expedient moment. After getting one more fuck out of me, of course. That was the end.”

Well, not exactly. But the rest of the story won’t shed more light. It will just make Britta pity me more. And make me choke again. But I’ve given her enough to help her understand…and the sad empathy flitting across her face is already warming my heart.

“Griff… She hurt you. You were so young and—”

“I learned a lot from the experience. I know now that I didn’t love her. But at the time, it felt a lot like heartbreak.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she murmurs softly, giving me a quick squeeze of my hand. “Was it hard?”

“Yes.” I squeeze back, not wanting to relinquish her fingers. “I’ve never told anyone, not even Maxon. I spent a lot of years being bitter. After that, I found myself questioning everything and everyone I’d always trusted. I decided that if I could just control the people and events in my life, I’d never get too attached to anyone again. I thought I’d be fine. And I was getting by.” I blow out a ragged breath. It’s hard to say this, but Britta deserves all I can give her. “Then I met you.”

She blinks at me. “I didn’t want to challenge or hurt you. I just wanted to love you.”

I nod. “And I couldn’t control that, just like I couldn’t control how quickly I fell for you. I told myself you were sweet and innocent and that you would never go out of your way to rip my guts open. But you still scared the hell out of me. I spent so much of our time together waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I was never going to betray you. I never would. Griff…”

“You seemed too good to be true, but I couldn’t make my heart stop caring about you. I tried so hard to keep you at arm’s length. But I seduced you because I couldn’t stand not having you. I moved you in with me because I couldn’t do without having you near me. Every day that passed, I began to think a little more that maybe you were real, that painting you with Julia’s brush was unfair. Every day, I let my guard down more. I wanted to tell you I loved you. I wanted to propose. By the fall, I believed you were everything I wanted and more. I made a plan. I was going to give you the grandest gesture of love I could think of. Then that morning the listing agent on the prince’s palatial love shack accidentally called me instead of Maxon and I heard about the deal. I lost it. My brother and I had always been competitive. I chalked him up to being too much like Dad. I decided that I couldn’t be in business with a sneaky fucker like that. But you… I couldn’t handle believing you betrayed me to help him, that I meant so little to you—”

“You meant everything.” Britta sniffles. “I loved you so much then that I would have followed you to the ends of the earth. I would have stabbed Maxon if he’d intentionally been trying to cut you out of a deal. I would have married you, had your children, and held your hand forever. But you let go. Griff, I don’t know what to do about that.”

I close my eyes. If I keep looking at her, I’m going to fucking get emotional. We’re at a restaurant, and now I wish we were anywhere with privacy. I want to hold her, kiss her, show her in some way how much she means to me. I don’t want to fall days short of our happily ever after again. It fucking can’t end this way.

“I’m going to regret that forever.”

“So…all the women after we split up? They were—”

“Numbing. I could control everything about my time with them. When. Where. How long. How much. How hard. How pointless. So much of it was basically anonymous. A bar there, a swipe to the right there. I’d undo it all for you if I could.” I look across the table, willing Britta to believe me. “I don’t know how to make you trust me again. I’m the last person who should preach to you about how long it takes to believe in someone. I’m sure it’s doubly hard for you since I’m the one who first broke your heart.”

“None of this has been easy. I’m still not sure what should come next for us.”

“You know what I want.”

She presses her lips together. “But that doesn’t mean I can give it to you.”

In other words, she’s not ready to take a leap of faith. I didn’t manage to our first time together, so I can hardly blame her. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to convince her.

“If you choose your head over your heart…” Jesus, she simply can’t. “I know you. You’ll be miserable.”

“Maybe. But that’s better than being broken.”

I want to argue that I’m not going to break her again. But that will simply lead to a circular argument. I know better than anyone that wanting desperately to believe something doesn’t mean you actually can.

“So where does that leave us?” I challenge her.

“We have two more weeks to figure it out. I’ll keep searching my soul until I have an answer.” She shrugs. “My mom always says that whatever is meant to be will be. I’ve always thought she’s right.”

It’s not the answer I want, but I don’t have any choice but to accept it. I destroyed us with one stupid act of fury and distrust. Now I may have to live with the fact that our future is beyond my repair. She may wind up with a man who won’t worship her the way I do.

If that’s the case, I will spend my life alone.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The day dawns beautiful. Britta and I drive out to Keeley and Maxon’s new house, which will officially be a bed-and-breakfast next week. They started moving in two days ago, but tonight will be their first night to spend here. Also their first as man and wife.

As I drive closer, I hold Britta’s hand. My pants and shirt swish inside a garment bag hanging in the backseat, along with Britta’s sundress. I’m not wearing a tie. Or a coat. Keeley wants a casual wedding. Hell, she even instituted a no-shoes rule. This will literally be a barefoot wedding.

I would rib my ambitious, traditional, bordering-on-stuffy brother about that, but he seems sublimely happy. I never imagined in a million years when my best friend sought him out to see if he and I could behave like brothers again that they would fall in love. But Keeley completes him, and that made all our lives come together perfectly.

Well, almost. I glance at Britta.

It’s been just over a week since our last serious discussion. The following day was another explosion of work. When do we ever negotiate and sell six listings on the same day? Just insane. On Sunday, Britta and I caught up on paperwork while we took turns entertaining Jamie. Harlow breezed in late afternoon after meeting up with some of the friends from the priv

ate high school she once attended on the island. She waved our way, all smiles, then took a call and disappeared upstairs. After that, she glowered like a thunderstorm for the rest of the day and well into the following week.

Jamie got a tummy virus midweek, so that occupied Britta for two days. I offered to spell her, but she insisted I had a full schedule of showings and closings that we couldn’t miss.

It sucks…but sometimes that’s life.

Wedding activities started in earnest on Thursday, and we all began pitching in to get the house set up for the big event. Ditto Friday. We finished less than ten hours ago. Throwing together a last-minute wedding was a mountain of work, but Keeley wants something simple, almost homemade. Maxon just wants to marry her ASAP.

When we pull up, I’m awestruck by how inviting the cheerful house looks sparkling in the morning sunlight. On the lawn, we laid a pair of crisp white sheets, sprinkled them with petals from