My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 Harlow James (scary books to read txt) 📖

I step inside and uncomfortably close the door behind me, leaning up against it, resting my head gently on the wood. As I close my eyes and ruminate on the evening, my heart pumps harshly, hating how my image of how the evening would end is so very far from how it actually ended.

* * *

It’s been over a week since our cooking class, and the morning after Waverly greeted me cheerily the next day as if nothing had happened—as if the weight of my feelings isn’t starting to drown me every time we are near each other. But I guess she’d have to know about what’s going through my mind in order to absorb some of that guilt, and I can’t bring myself to say anything.

This longing for another person—I’ve never experienced it before. I never realized the anguish that accompanies wanting someone that you can’t have. I’ve stood firm in my realization that night—that if Waverly comes to me and reciprocates my desires, then I’m all in. But until then, I’m staying safely away, which unfortunately is becoming increasingly difficult.

You might be asking yourself, why on earth don’t you just go after what you want? You do that in every other aspect of your life, especially when it comes to business. And before Waverly, if I wanted a woman, I had no problem standing in front of her and asking her if she was down to spend the night together.

But this isn’t just some woman—this is my wife. And although that notion seems ass-backward, I don’t just want to have sex with Waverly. Believe me, I can’t wait to feel her body beneath mine, on top of mine, twisted up with mine as I plunge my cock so deep into her I’ll threaten to split her in two. But it’s more than just the physical, and because of that? Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking terrified. This will be the first time I’ve ever put myself out there, allowed myself to be vulnerable in my feelings—and the stakes are even higher because we’re already married. This isn’t just me asking a woman on a date. This would be me, asking Waverly to be my wife for real—let me fuck her, care for her, make her my entire world in every sense of what a marriage is supposed to be. We skipped the dating part, so dating now would be solidifying our marriage. We couldn’t just break-up if it doesn’t work out. We’d be delivering on that promise of divorce, which seems more daunting the closer it gets.

But so does actually telling her how I feel.

Fuck, this is so complicated.

“Clay?” I call out from my office, hoping my assistant hasn’t traveled too far from his desk. My head and mind have been battling for focus all day while drifting to thoughts of Waverly coming home tonight. But lucky for me, my brain has been on nothing but work for a while now.

His shoes tap the tile as he enters through the open door. “Yes, boss?”

“What time does Waverly’s flight get in?”

He pulls out his phone and clicks a few keys. “She should have landed an hour ago.”

“Fuck. Seriously?” I stand and then glance at the time on my computer, oblivious to how late it got while I was stuck in my vortex.

“Yes, sir. Is that a problem?”

I scramble to collect my keys and wallet from my desk, clicking out of the windows on my computer and then shutting it down. “No. Yes. Jesus.” I run my hand through my hair as I step around him and start stomping down the hall. “I wanted to be home when she got there.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. If you would have told me, I would have reminded you.”

I glance back at him as his remorse becomes apparent on his face. “I know you would have, Clay. This isn’t your fault. But I’m done for today. I’ll finish whatever I need to tomorrow, alright?”

“Of course, sir. Say hi to Waverly for me.”

“I will.”

I waste no time getting down to my car and firing up the engine, peeling out of the parking garage, and heading home as fast as the traffic will allow. As I drive, the desire to buy her flowers hits me, and even though it will make me later, part of me wants to have something to give her when I arrive home.

Waverly has been in Vegas again for the past three days, finalizing more aspects on the design of Midnight Cowboy, and then also taking care of a few things for Wes for the Morgan Hotel out there. The house has been quiet and cold without her, and a small part of me just wants to show her that I’ve missed her. I really fucking did.

I stop by a CVS, and as soon as I see the bouquet of pink and white roses, I snatch them up and head for the register. I’ve yet to buy her flowers, but I remember her telling my mom that I did for Valentine’s Day over a month ago. Perhaps she’ll find my choice endearing after she lied about the pink roses I got her for the holiday.

When I finally arrive home, I burst through the door from the garage as quickly as I can, walking into the living room, searching her out. But the house is empty and quiet, which is strange. According to Clay, she should be home by now.

I step into the kitchen, setting the flowers on the counter and then dropping my keys and wallet down as well.

“Waverly?” I call out, listening for her voice. “Waverly?”

Suddenly, I hear the shower turn on upstairs. Sighing in defeat of the reunion I was anticipating, I fill a vase with water and arrange the flowers inside. The fact that I even have a vase shocked the hell out of me, but it must have been something my housekeeper keeps around just in