Page 3 of Make You Mine


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“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

I snap my gaze to her. “You what? You’re bloody joking. What do you mean it’s not possible?”

She doesn’t flinch or blink or answer me. She simply stares.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“But I do, Gareth,” she says at last. Her voice has lost all softness, replaced by a coldness that’s almost eerie in howunfeeling it sounds. “You made promises. And if you don’t keep them... there’ll be consequences.”

Chapter 1

Amerie

Three years later…

Three days in, the only thing that feels settled is the Wi-Fi router. I fold up the latest box I’ve finished unpacking and then drop it with the pile of other broken-down boxes. Slowly, but surely, we’ve been making our way through the roomful.

When we started, we could barely see the opposite wall. Now, box by box, details like the bay window and the built-in bookshelves are coming into view.

“Careful!” I cry out when Willow bounces her jelly ball at my side. “We’ve got the vases, Willow! One wrong move and you could knock them to the floor.”

“Sorry, Mommy. I’m trying to beat my bounce record!” squeaks my five-year-old brightly. She never takes her eyes off the ball, her small hand swatting at it again.

“What have we talked about? The ball is an outside toy. Go on. Before you break a window.”

She heaves a little sigh before she takes the jelly ball, spins on her heel, and marches out of the room, her braids swinging at her shoulders.

As she walksoutof the living room, Declan’s walkingin. He watches our little one pass him by, then looks up at me with both brows raised, his emerald-green eyes flickering with curiosity.

I give a shrug, then turn to the next box to unpack. “Don’t ask.”

“It might be time to find her a playmate.”

“Where? We’re not exactly surrounded by neighbors.”

My husband concedes with a nod, joining me at my side. He dwarfs me in size, making my height of five-seven seem insignificant.

Declan stands at six-four, a tall and thick Irishman with dark auburn hair and a fair complexion that burns easily in the sun. I always tease him about it, telling him I have enough melanin for the both of us.

The very first day we met had been a hot summer day. He’d been burning red from the sun, but he’d still thought it was worth shooting his shot anyway. He approached me and my best friend Cinthia at a beachside bar and struck up a conversation.

I wasn’t one to be into randoms at bars—especially sunburned ones—but his accent was sexy and he was cute.

The last thing I imagined was, seven years later, we’d be married with two kids and moving to England…

“We have neighbors, love,” he says in his usual affectionate tone. “They’re just not on top of us like the loft you used to live in.”

“I loved that loft!”

He chuckles. “It was fine. For a fun, sexy, single gal.”

“Oh?” I ask, quirking a brow and half turning to him. “But I’m not that anymore?”

“Well, no,” he answers. His arms slide over my hips and he yanks me toward him so fast that I yelp at how aggressive it is. He leans closer, a sudden growly affect to his voice. “You’re still fun and you’re still sexy. But you’re not single anymore. Have you forgotten you belong to me now?”

Declan buries his face in my throat, peppering the column with ravenous kisses. I erupt in laughter, ever ticklish and sensitive in the area.

“D-Declan!” I cry out breathlessly to no avail. “D-Declan!”