I draw in a slow breath, already knowing the answer to that.
He folds his arms across his chest. “Nobody ever died from rejection, but I don't think you need to worry about that. What's more likely to kill you is bottling up your feelings, trying to control them, and neverallowing yourself to experience love. Harper's a good woman, and you'll always regret it if you let her walk away."
He's right.
She's not going to wait around forever for me to figure out my shit. If I don't tell her how I feel, she'll find someone who can.
The thought of that is more than I can bear.
“Thanks." I jerk my chin at him.
His features soften. “By the way, you don’t have to worry about Miller. He signed the NDA. Agreed to leave the country and never return."
He released a written apology earlier today, saying everything in the video was conjecture. And his way of getting revenge for being fired.
Both Harper and I approved of the statement before Tristan’s team released it.
I curl my lips. "I should have smashed his face in for what he did."
"Margot asked about Harper. I had to tell her that your wife was staying separate from you for a few days."
My grandmother makes sure she’s kept abreast of everything happening in her grandkids' lives. So, why hasn't she called me yet?
"I’m not hiding anything from her." That’s the truth.
But if Margot butts into my personal life again, I’m going to tell her to back off. She cares about me. But my marriage is not something I’m going to discuss with my grandmother again.
I may have been propelled into marrying my wife because of her, but her interference stops there.
Whatever happens next is because my wife and I decide it’s right for us.
I tickle Malice under her chin. She yawns, then tries to nip at my fingers. "Hey, watch it." I shove at her playfully.
She, in turn, pretends to bare her teeth at me, then shoves her head between me and the phone.
"You have a cat?" Tristan’s jaw drops.
"Adopted her a few months ago." I’ve never shared that with my family. Another thing to be open about with them moving forward.
"And you’re playing with her?"
"The stimulation’s good for her."
“You’re okay with an animal’s filth in your life?” His brows rise.
“She’s not an animal. She’s Malice.”
“O-kay?” He seems taken aback.
“Cats are very neat. They clean themselves all the time. They don’t roll in dirt or eat garbage. They don’t need baths or grooming.”
“Hmm.” He rubs his chin. “What about cat hair? I would've thought that’d push your OCD into overdrive.”
“Firstly, they don’t shed as much as people think they do. Secondly, she actually helps me manage my disorder.”
“She does?” Tristan seems disbelieving.
“She’s a kind of comfort animal. She’s undemanding, doesn’t beg for my attention. In fact, it’s the other way around. I must earn hers. I can’t control her routine. So, I fit my life around hers. That forces me to let go of control.”
