Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek, #2)

by Melanie Harlow

My mother’s definition of a mess was not the same as a normal person’s. Crumbs, dust, and clutter were the enemy. Growing up, I rarely saw her without a broom, the vacuum, a rag and a spray bottle in hand. My older brother Greg and I had learned early on that you take your shoes off at the door, you wipe up your spills immediately, and you make your bed in the morning or else. We used to joke that she wore hand sanitizer like perfume.

Living with your mother when you’re over thirty is a special kind of torture.”

“I love my mother, but she drives me crazy.” “Same.” “If she would just mind her own business, I’d be fine.” “Exactly.”

Every girl wanted to feel beautiful, right? So how did you assure her she was without making it seem too important?

Snowy days just make me want to curl up in a window seat with a mug of tea and a good book.”

“Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.” I swear to God, those words came out of his mouth. My jaw fell open. His face went red. “Fuck. Sorry.” “For what? It was a compliment.” “Men shouldn’t comment on women’s bodies.” “But did you mean it—what you said?” “Yes.” “Then say it again,” I demanded, my pulse racing. He looked me in the eye. “Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.”

“I think real love will keep feeling like real love, even after the costume is off and the novelty wears thin.”

“Real love should last, you know? It should grow even stronger over time, not fade away.”

“Nothing makes you feel lonelier than pumpkin spice lattés and sweater weather.

I grabbed the bowl from beneath the aqua blue KitchenAid stand mixer, a luxury purchase of mine that pretty much summed up why I struggled to pay off my credit cards every month. The red one had been on sale, but I didn’t want the red one. I wanted the aqua blue.

“I like a guy who wears his ring. It says something about him, you know?”

Want my advice?” “No.” “Here’s my advice.”

‘Woman is the most fiendish instrument of torture ever devised to bedevil the days of man.’”

“See? This is the problem with me. I say I’m not going to get my hopes up, and then I do. I say I’m okay with things, and then I’m not.

The whole reason I left that life behind was because I didn’t want to live by anyone else’s rules or traditions.”

“I don’t want you to go.” I turned to him with a tearful smile. “I have to, Cole. I have to go to my room alone, where I will put myself in a timeout, curse myself for blowing my chance to sleep with you, and wallow in the humiliation of everything I’ve just confessed. But once I get over all that, I’m hoping to feel good about this.”

“All of a sudden, it hit me that we weren’t on the same page. I was doing it because I’m in love with him, and he was doing it because it would be fun. But fun can be had with anyone, you know? I was afraid it wouldn’t mean anything to him, and it was going to mean everything to me.”

Stay with me, I wished I could have said. Kiss me. Touch me. Whisper my name, and I’ll whisper yours. Tell me again how you love me. Let me give you hope. Let me give you everything.

“So what happened with Bianca last night?” He frowned. “It was a real struggle, I tell you. I ordered her a holy water martini garnished with garlic on a crucifix, and I still couldn’t exorcise the demon.”

I know what I want to say, I’m just scared it’s going to come out wrong.

when you have something precious in your hands, you need to hold on tight.”

“Think your mom will mind I quoted her?” I had to laugh as I shook my head. “She might never let you forget it, but she’ll be happy someone was listening.”

“I’m used to this, remember? He was never mine, and he’s never going to be mine, and dancing with someone else doesn’t make that less true.”

I really needed to stop doing that—wishing on stars was for kids. I was fucking thirty, and that wish was never going to come true.

“I feel a lot of things. I feel like I want to hold you all night. I feel like all the oxygen goes out of the room when you enter it. I feel like I’m the only guy in the world when you look at me. I feel like there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile.”

I was his, and he was mine,

By no means was I experienced at this, but all I wanted to do was please him,

“Sorry, I’ve got wedding brain. I’m in happily-ever-after mode right now.”

sometimes we say things to our children to make them feel safe in the moment, and it’s only later that we realize that the truth might have allowed for some needed emotional development.”

It was an unsettling feeling, to have your faith stolen. To wake up one morning believing in something, and by nightfall, discover that belief has been destroyed. It made it hard to trust your instincts. Hard to plan for the future. Hard to believe that you can protect those you love—or protect yourself. Nothing was promised. Nothing was certain.

It’s like suddenly finding yourself at the all-you-can-eat buffet of your wildest dreams.”

“It kind of makes sense, you know? The whole ‘waiting for disaster’ thing? Looking at you like he’s worried you’ll disappear? He’s probably nervous about feeling so happy. Like, he’s looking around for the anvil about to drop on his head because that’s what happened when he loved someone before.”

“Are you kidding? What man is going to volunteer to talk about his emotional baggage when you ask if they’re okay? Remember that episode of Friends where Ross finds out Rachel and Joey are a couple and he’s all ‘I’m fine’ over and over again, but it’s obvious he isn’t?”

I’m thirty-three years old, and I know what I feel. I don’t want to play games or put things off. Life is short. Don’t you agree?”

you couldn’t trust the universe or God or anyone else to protect you. You were on your own. Anything and anyone could be taken from you inside a minute. An accident. A mistake. A lightning strike. An error in judgment. A split second. A wrong choice. There were so many ways fate could turn on you, no matter how smart or careful or good you tried to be.

“We’re not saying bad things don’t happen to good people, because they do—we know it. But you can’t live in fear of them. And you don’t have to go looking for them.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” “No,” I said, tearing up. “I need caffeine and talk therapy and maybe some kind of muffin or pastry with either like some icing on it or some crumble topping.”

“He thinks he’s being a man, but he’s just being a coward,”

“I thought love conquered all,” I said, tears welling again. “But it doesn’t.”

“Damn.” He took a drink right from the carton. “What happened?” “Griffin!” Blair took a glass from the cupboard and handed it to him. “What have I told you about that? It grosses me out.” “Why? You don’t even drink O.J.” “Because we are not Neanderthals without proper drinkware. Use the glass, please.”

“He won’t talk to a therapist?” Griffin asked. “Nope. He said therapy is for women and kids.” Blair made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. “Why do men think they have to be so tough all the time? It’s okay to show your emotions.”

“No one wants raw vegetables during an emotional crisis.”

For once, I was going to get to kiss the man of my dreams at midnight. Instead I’ll be home with my mother, wearing sweatpants, watching the ball drop while eating raw cookie dough and drinking wine out of a box.”

“So I’m going to ask you about some stuff, and don’t bother lying. You’re the fucking worst liar in the world, and we both know it.”

You never know what good things can happen, Cole. But you have to believe they can.”

She’s always been a pain-in-the-ass little punk sister, but she’s my pain-in-the-ass little punk sister. And no matter what she says, she still needs her big brother to look out for her.”

“That’s what I want for you. Something better than a dream.”

“God, I was stupid.” “Don’t feel bad.” I patted his hand. “Most men are.”