Undressed By His Legal Services: Marry Me Again

”Good night, Aunt Diana.” Naomi got into her car. She started the engine, gave her aunt one last wave through the window and pulled away from the house.

Dorian’s Mercedes fell in behind her almost immediately.

The sight of his headlights in her rearview mirror should have comforted her. Instead, Diana’s question followed Naomi all the way home.

What happens when he leaves?

A few minutes later, they were back at the townhouse, pulling their cars into the garage.

Naomi climbed out and locked hers.

Dorian was already watching her. ”So...” He shut his door. ”What was that about?”

”Uh... shhhh...” Naomi sighed and leaned against the car for a moment. She really didn’t want to unpack another Whitmore family crisis tonight. ”I guess Uncle Richard is just lashing out. He only just got back from the hospital. I suppose he’s still angry.”

That explanation did absolutely nothing for him.

”Why doesn’t your aunt leave him?”

Naomi shrugged. ”She loves him.” She said it like that explained everything.

Maybe, in her experience, it did.

”Love allows people to get away with things, I guess.”

he crossed the small space between them and pulled her against his chest. His arms closed around her, she let herself enjoy the familiar safety of being held by him. ”Not everyone is like that. I...” He hesitated. ”I am not like that.”

Naomi completely missed the vulnerability in his voice.

Or perhaps Diana’s words were still sitting too heavily in her head for her to recognize it.

”Yeah, I guess Uncle Richard told my aunt that once before too.” She chuckled.

Dorian stepped back abruptly.

Naomi looked up.

The amusement disappeared from her face.

He looked as though she had slapped him.

Only then did she hear what she had actually said. Not what she meant but what he heard.

She had taken Dorian’s promise that he was different from Richard and casually compared it to whatever Richard had once promised Diana before years of cruelty turned those words meaningless. ”Dorian...”

His jaw tightened. ”You really think I am capable of hurting you or any woman like he does you? You do not know me enough to see I am incapable of that?”

”No.”

There was real hurt in his face. And that made her stomach sink.

”I wasn’t talking about you...”

”Who were you talking about, then?”

”I just meant people change. Things change. My aunt probably didn’t marry Uncle Richard knowing what everything would become.” Naomi immediately wished she had stopped one sentence earlier.

Because somehow that sounded worse.

”I’m not saying you’re him.”

”What exactly do you think I’m doing here, Naomi?”

He had spent weeks trying to show her.

Not merely tell her.

Show her.

He had respected boundaries even when every instinct demanded answers. He had swallowed his feelings because he knew the idea of love frightened her.

And now she was suggesting, however unintentionally, that one day he might become another Richard Whitmore.

Naomi reached toward him. ”Dorian, I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head. ”Am I merely wasting my time here?”

”Wasting your time with what?” Naomi asked.

he couldn’t believe she genuinely didn’t understand. ”With this. With us.” His jaw tightened. ”Will it matter what I do or how happy we are? Or do you plan to stick to this philosophy of expecting the worst from me?”

Naomi frowned. ”I don’t expect the worst from you.”

”Really?”

”Yes, really. Dorian, I’m sorry, but you’re taking this entire thing out of context. I spoke offhandedly, I admit, but—”

”Did I?” Dorian cut in. ”I’m taking it out of context?”

”Well...” Naomi stopped.

That had not been the strongest answer.

Dorian looked away, frustration written all over his face. What bothered him most was that this wasn’t about one stupid comment in a garage.

It was everything behind it. Every time Naomi told him he was good, then immediately prepared herself for the day he wouldn’t be.

Every time she admitted she was happy, then treated that happiness like something temporary. Every time she came closer only to remind herself there was an exit waiting. An exit he would gladly help her wall off.

”When you look at me, Naomi, do you think I’m different?”

”Yes! And I have told you that countless times. I have told you that you are perfect. You make me happy. I say it...” She threw her hands up. ”A lot. A lot, Dorian.” She genuinely did not understand how they had gotten here.

It felt like someone had quietly switched genres on her.

”So why can’t you...” Dorian stopped.

Why can’t you love me?

He swallowed it.

”Why can’t I what?”

Dorian shook his head. ”Never mind.”

”No.” She stepped toward him. ”Don’t do that. tell me!” Her frustration finally broke through. ”Dorian, what do you want from me? Just say it!”

His chest tightened.

The perfect opening. All he had to do was say it.

I want you.

Not for four more months.

He wanted her to stay. He wanted far too much. Dorian dragged a hand over his face. ”I need some air.”

”What?”

He turned toward his Mercedes instead of answering.

”Dorian.”

He opened the passenger-side door and reached inside.

Naomi’s frustration faltered when he straightened again.

He had bought her flowers. Dorian walked back toward her and held them out.

Naomi looked down at the bouquet, suddenly feeling like an absolute idiot.

He placed it carefully into her hands. ”I thought with all the media mess today, you might need something to make you smile.”

”Dorian...”

He stepped back, turned and started walking away.

”Dorian...” Naomi called quietly, her voice shivering. She stood in the garage holding the flowers against her chest, staring after him.

What in the world just happened?

Dorian stepped out into the cold night air and started walking down the street, both hands buried deep in his pockets. He needed space.

Mostly, he needed five minutes before he said something he couldn’t take back.

He had barely made it a few houses away from the townhouse when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

”Dorian Heathcliffe!”