19. Haven

19

HAVEN

"Have a seat. I'm putting breakfast on the table. Want coffee, orange juice, or water?"

I walked into the kitchen after smelling coffee but wasn't prepared to see King, shirtless, standing at the stove with a spatula in his hand and a smile on his face. I tug at the T-shirt I'm still wearing. The sweats were too hot to wear while sleeping, and I took them off, but now I'm kicking myself because I probably should have put them on before coming downstairs.

"Coffee, definitely coffee. But I can get it."

He waves the spatula. "Sit… I'll get it."

I look down and tug at the hem of my shirt. "I should probably go put pants on. I'll be right—"

Before I can finish, he says my name. "Haven. "

I look up at him, but he's staring at my bare legs. "Stay," he commands.

"But—"

I stop as he pours coffee into a mug. "Cream or sugar?"

"Black."

He comes toward me and holds the cup out. "Stay. I've thought about your legs all night anyway. No need to cover them up."

I take the mug from him and try to avoid staring at his bare chest. "Thank you."

I walk toward the table and sit down, trying to get myself together. I barely slept last night. I know King was worried that I regretted getting married, but I don't. I think I was shocked by how sudden it all was, but honestly, I'm glad to have it over with. I was never the person that dreamed of a big wedding or anything. Hell, I never even imagined my wedding because I never dreamed I'd be getting married. I always thought that was a faraway thing that would never happen for me. Plus, it's not like I have any family that would come anyway. But now that I am married, I'm starting to dream about the future and what that could look like. I'm both excited and a little nervous.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I fixed eggs, bacon, toast, and oatmeal. I could make some French toast if you prefer."

I look around at the platters of food. I usually eat yogurt or something light for breakfast, but this is exactly what I need this morning. I was too nervous last night to eat anything. "This is perfect. So you cook? I'm impressed."

"Yeah, I enjoy it. Dig in."

He sits down next to me, and we both fill our plates. We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then he asks, "Did you sleep well?"

For the first time since we sat down, I really look at him and notice the redness of his eyes. He looks tired, and I wonder how he slept. "I didn't really sleep much. I feel like I tossed and turned most of the night."

He grips his fork a little tighter. "Was the bed uncomfortable? Or were you just worried about… things?"

"The bed was fine." Instead of answering his other question, I ask him, "What about you? Did you sleep okay?"

He groans and runs his hand through his beard. "I didn't sleep well at all. I was worried about you."

The sincerity on his face has me reaching for him. I touch his hand, and instantly he turns it and wraps his fingers around mine. "I'm fine. I don't regret last night. If anything, I'm glad it happened the way it did. I wouldn't want a big wedding with everyone looking and talking about me. I'm ready to move on and get on with our lives. I didn't sleep well because I felt bad… it was your wedding night—"

He interrupts me. "Our wedding night."

"Right. Our wedding night, and well, I'm sure you expected things to be different than sleeping in separate beds and—"

He cuts me off, leaning toward me. "Nope, I'm not expecting anything. You have my ring on your finger. The rest will fall into place. I told you I'm a patient man."

Damn, he's so handsome, and he knows all the right things to say to calm me and make it all right. "Okay."

He nods. "Okay." And then we continue to eat while he holds my hand.

It should feel weird or out of the ordinary, but it doesn't. All I can think is how it calms me that he's touching me the way he is.

"When's your next photo shoot?"

"The end of next week. My agent is working out the details. She wasn't happy with the photographer they had lined up, so I'm not sure if it's going to happen or not."

"Why not?"

I take a sip of my coffee and then scrunch my nose up. Just thinking of Axle puts a bad taste in my mouth. "The photographer is known for being handsy and inappropriate. My agent knows I don't do well with that."

"Who is it?"

"My agent?"

"No, the photographer."

He's stopped eating and has turned to me fully. I set my mug down and give him my full attention. "Why?"

His jaw tightens. "Because I wanna know. What's his name?"

My eyebrows raise. "I'm not telling you."

"Haven Beckett," he says, and I both get a thrill and am surprised. It's the first time I've heard my name said with my new last name.

I shake my finger at him. "Oh no, you think you're going to win me over by calling me that, but I'm still not telling you."

He shrugs. "I'll handle it."

My mouth falls open. "You'll handle it? You absolutely will not. No way. "

"You're my wife, Haven."

I lift my hand up and hold it out to him. The rings he put on my finger last night are huge, and anyone within fifty feet would notice them. "Trust me, I know I am. This rock you gave me is hard to miss."

"You don't like it?" he says worriedly.

"I love it. It's big, and you spent too much money, but I love it. That's not the point. I know I'm your wife, but that doesn't mean you're going to ‘handle things.' I can take care of it."

He lets go of my hand, and before I can miss his touch, he grabs the seat of the chair I'm sitting in and pulls me so that I'm right next to him. I suck in a breath at the closeness, but it's not because of panic or not wanting to be touched; it's because I'm anticipating it. He leans toward me until our lips are mere inches apart. "No man is going to get handsy with you, Haven. You're my wife. Mine."

I reach up and cup his jaw in my hand. It softens under my touch, but I can still see the determination on his face. "I know you want to throw your name around and take care of this for me, but I need you to let it go. If he stays on as the photographer, I can cancel the job. It's in my contract. "

He wants to argue with me, but he surprises me with his request. "You're not going to quit a job because some man doesn't know boundaries. If he's the photographer, you let me go with you."

"Go with me?" I ask, shocked.

"Yes."

The fact that he wants to do this for me sends me into a tailspin. I keep reminding myself why we're doing this, and it's supposed to be fake, but why is it all starting to feel real?

"Okay. If he's the photographer, you can go with me."

He exhales and he's obviously relieved. "Okay." He points at my plate. "Eat."

I turn to the table and pick up my fork again, but not without murmuring, "You sure are bossy."

He just laughs.

When we finish eating and we're cleaning up, King stands next to me, taking the plate I just washed so he can dry it. "So I've got something to ask you."

I should probably be nervous because I'm finding he doesn't ask easy questions. "What?"

"If you have time, I have a project I'm working on. I had hoped it would be further along, and I could use your help with it. "

He owns the biggest construction company in the South, and I know nothing about construction. "I'm not sure what I could do to help you, but I could give it a shot."

He laughs. "No, it's not help with the construction company. It's something else. I bought the building in front of the junior high school here in Whiskey Run."

He has my attention now. "I heard. Are you really putting in a community center?"

"Yeah, I want a safe place for kids to go to, and it's a perfect location. It's been gutted out and the interior is done, but it needs to be furnished and planned for day to day. I need to hire people, put together some kind of work schedule, an activity schedule and a thousand other things that I don't have time for. I need someone to oversee it." He raises his hands up. "Now I'm not trying to interfere with your job. I know it's important to you. I'm just wondering if you'd be interested in overseeing it. You can hire help. Eventually down the road, I want there to be classes for teaching them things about nutrition, online safety… I mean, I have all kinds of ideas, but I haven't been able to dedicate as much time to it as I need to."

I point at my chest. "And you want me to help? "

He nods, and I hop excitedly. "I would love to help, King. Can we go there today and look at it?"

Again, as soon as I agree, he seems to relax. It's almost like he was worried about asking me. He has no idea how important something like this is to me. I wish it had been around when I was growing up. Every kid needs a place to feel safe and go when their home lives are not what they should be. I put my hand to my chest, right over my heart, and repeat the words even though I know they're not enough. "I would love to be a part of this. Thanks for asking me to."