Is this the house I dreamed of? Yearned for? Sure is. I should be happier than a pig in shit, so why do I feel like I’ve lost something vital? Releasing a sigh, I take my shoes off and leave them by the front door. Then I make my way through the house—my home now.
The hardwood floors are cool beneath my feet as I enter the kitchen. Spotting the bouquet of sunflowers and the ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and glasses on the large island liftsthe corners of my lips. Tony loves me. I don’t doubt it for a minute. He tells me every day so that I don’t forget. Buying the house is his love language. Him showing with actions how much he cares, fulfilling his need to take care of me. Bless his huge cinnamon roll heart. The problem is, instead of making me feel loved and cherished, it’s scaring the ever-living crap out of me, and I don’t understand why.
It feels like he’s trying to control me, taking over my life. I’ve been on my own too long. He’s not the boss of me. I’ve teased Tony about it more times than I can count. A joke usually, but as they say, most jokes are based in reality. And for whatever reason, this is mine. It hits deep inside me, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.
Suddenly, I’m drowning, struggling to breathe. My heart pounds painfully in my chest as sweat beads on my forehead. I’m clutching the gray marble countertop so hard my knuckles have gone white. As blackness gathers at the edge of my vision, I remind myself that I know what this is and how to deal with it, while chastising myself for letting my emotions get out of hand.
Get your shit together, girl.I don’t have panic attacks, but I recognize the signs. Inhaling a slow breath, I let it out and repeat the process. The pounding in my head dissipates, and my heart rate slows down as my sight clears. This is crazy.
I’m so lost in my head that I don’t realize Tony is back until his warm hands squeeze my tense shoulders.
“Are you okay, Vi?” he asks. Vi… I never thought I’d like my name shortened, but it’s different with Tony. Like it’s our special thing. Another reason my freak-out makes no sense. He’s shown me plenty of times how he respects my boundaries. But I can’t shake the nagging doubt that it’s just until he’s got me locked in with a wedding ring on my finger, that everything will change.
Tony’s hands slide down my arms, then back to my shoulders. His fingers dig into knots I didn’t know existed, and a small groan slips out of my mouth. “Feel good?”
“Oh, yeah.” It’s enough to force the fear that’s held me in its grip into the background. The tension eases out of my neck, my shoulders slump, and I lean into his embrace.
“Good. I’m sorry—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m over-reacting. The surprise, I guess. I should be thanking you not acting like a total bitch.”
“Sweetheart, you’re not a bitch--ever. This is my fault. I got so caught up in the surprise I didn’t consider your feelings. My commander persona took over. I’ve spent way too many years making solitary decisions, not that it’s a good enough excuse. We’re partners. I meant what I said earlier. If it’s ruined now, we’ll move somewhere else. I want this to be an exciting time for both of us. A start. A new home. A new future together. Please tell me I haven’t fucked it up beyond repair.”
“You haven’t, love.” Tarnished the edges a bit, maybe, but I’m not telling him that.
It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me when he kisses the side of my neck and steps away with a soft sigh. His regret soothes the raw edges of my anger, but it doesn’t remove the underlying fear that keeps me from truly trusting him.
I miss his touch, his warmth. My emotions are a gigantic ball of tangled yarn. I hate it. I do. We should talk about it. But that would mean cracking open walls I’ve worked hard to build for the last forty years. I’m not ready. I may never be ready for that.
The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth of his hands, and the love that blankets me in tenderness should help me feel safe. Instead, the urge to run fast and far pounds in my veins, and I hate myself for it. This man won’t hurt me, my brain knows it, so why after over a year together is the fear growing?
“Are you hungry, baby? Your friends left it full for us. There’s post it notes all over everything.” He’s looking over his shoulder as he stands in front of the open refrigerator.
The Red Falcon Team’s women are the best. But hungry? No, not really. Wrung out, even though my nerves are vibrating like a bowstring. I need space to process, to figure out what the fuck is going on with me.
“Maybe in a bit, unless you are? A shower sounds better right now.”
“I can wait. It will give me a chance to call Mike and catch up. I know they’ve got a few leads on a new trafficking ring.” Tony says as he closes the fridge door and leans against it. His eyes miss nothing. It’s like he can see right through me. He probably can. It’s what he’s been doing for half his life.
“Tell him thank you for me. They went way over and above.”
“I will.” He nods.
I can still feel his gaze on me as I walk down the hallway to the master bedroom. I haven’t explored beyond the kitchen yet, but there’s plenty of time. It’s our home now. Home? No, it just feels off. I’m sure it’ll be fine once we get settled.
The bedroom feels more familiar. They centered Tony’s king-sized bed between two windows, placing nightstands on each side. I wince as I think about the contents of my nightstand.Oh God. What if the guys did the packing and not my friends?
Racing over, I pull open the drawer, and there he is, right where I left him—Earl—my battery-operated boyfriend. Fuck a duck. Not that I use him much these days. I was going to toss him in the garbage, but Tony stopped me. I didn’t realize he’d use Earl on me, edging me until I’m begging to come. He may be almost fifty, but he has the sex drive of a twenty-something.
I’m trying not to dwell on who may have packed our stuff as I open a drawer in the dresser and pull out one of my old navy tees and a pair of underwear. The rest of the house doesn’tmatter, but damn, our bedroom is personal. Hopefully, it was the girls who took care of it. Sex doesn’t embarrass me, but his teammates being all up in my business is a big no.
After grabbing my shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner from my bag that Tony left on the bed, I step into the bathroom. “Well, dayam,” I murmur. How did I forget how flipping huge it is? After dropping my clothes on the counter, I twirl around. Shelves hold our towels and toiletries from our old linen closet, except now they are in cute little organized baskets. Taking a washcloth and bath towel from the stack, I put them on the counter near the shower.
They’ve even hung our clothes in the walk-in closet. The military does this for high-level officers, but I’ve never had this type of service in my life and I sure as shit didn’t expect it from my friends.
I should be grateful for the help, since I despise packing and unpacking. It ranks right up there with the seven circles of hell. I’d rather live out of a suitcase and have a few times. Tony would lose his mind, though. Makes me wonder if he gave them a floor plan with written instructions for where everything belonged. I can even picture him sketching the plans at his desk. Organized should be his middle name.
He probably even owns a book by that organizer woman. I need to look through his stuff for it. Just thinking about that makes me snort. After setting my shower stuff on the shelf inside, I shake my head as I stare at the control pad outside the shower enclosure.Fancy-schmancy. The digital pad has way too many little icons to turn water on and off. I press the one I guess is for water, and several shower heads sputter to life. Then a temperature gauge flashes with an LED slider with options from blue to red.
