“Yeah, but you love me.”
She wrapped her arms around his lean waist. “I do. But I still don’t want to marry you.”
He shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “You don’t have a choice.”
She chuckled. “I don’t, huh?”
Shaking his head, he slid his hands underneath her sweater. “Not at all. We’re getting married. I’ll hire a wedding coordinator to pull things together. All you need to do is decide on a dress and show up.”
Naya laughed. “Isn’t that what the bride is supposed to say to the groom?”
“Yes. Which only proves that you’re wrong and you need to dive into this whole marriage business.”
She sobered with his words, her stomach tightening as insecurities popped up in her mind. “Couldn’t we just…keep going like we’ve been doing?”
He pulled her closer. “No. I want to know that you’re my woman. I want to announce it to everyone. You keep trying to put up boundaries.”
She snorted at that. “You ignored all of my boundaries from the very beginning, by the way,” she interrupted.
He smiled, completely unrepentant. “And I’m going to tear down all of your other boundaries too, so you’ve been warned.”
She buried her face against his chest, trying not to say it because she didn’t want to say it but… “I don’t have any except for no marriage.”
His arms tightened around her. “There will be a marriage. And you’re going to love it.”
She shivered. “I don’t want to get married.”
“Yes, you do,” he countered and kissed her. “You just don’t want a bad marriage. So, we’ll make sure it isn’t a bad marriage. Okay?”
She looked up into his eyes. “How can we do that?”
His hands tilted her head so that he could kiss her. “Tell me about your parents’ marriage.”
She took his hand and led him over to her tiny, flowered sofa. She loved it when he sat on this couch. He looked so huge and masculine among the flowers. It was such an odd contrast. And she knew that he hated the couch, grumbling every time he had to sit there.
Sure enough, he realized where she was leading him and groused about the move. “You know this couch is not entering our house, right?” he grouched.
Naya almost laughed. “I love this couch.”
He sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “You love torturing me with this couch,” he corrected, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Now talk.”
Naya wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling comfortable and secure once again. “My parents argued about everything.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Breakfast, decorating, money, grocery shopping, who should be cooking, who had the more important meeting any time I was sick or out of school.” She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, remembering all of the fighting. “They slept in separate rooms too,” she told him, surprised that she hadn’t remembered that until this moment. “It wasn’t just when they were arguing.”
“Why did they get married?” he asked, but he suspected he already knew the answer.
Naya had asked that question many times over the years, but hadn’t known the answer until this past weekend. “They’d met in college. She got pregnant. He married her. Arguments started.”
He grunted and she felt his hand slip along her thigh. “So, your parents never really loved each other. They married because of you and what they thought was the right thing to do.”
She’d heard those words from her mother just this past weekend, but Naya hadn’t analyzed them until this moment. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.” He squeezed her. “You love me. We’re getting married.”
“And you love me, right?” she asked.
He tilted her so that she was on her back, his big body looming over her. “Damn straight, I love you!” he agreed and emphasized his statement with a kiss. “I love your gorgeous hair, your alluring freckles, and your sexy body, I love the way you stand up for yourself and try to put barriers around yourself.”