Page 106 of My Husband Problem

Not because I am surprised that I want to share a house with Astrid. But that the house would be in a small town in Louisiana, with a front porch that has more foot traffic than the box office at the Portland Grays Arena.

And that I haven’taskedto be let in.

She lets people come and go through that door. People she trusts. People she knows care for her. People she loves.

I’ve just been demanding entrance.

“I need to get home,” I tell him, my stool now making the loud scraping noise on the floor.

He nods. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

I toss money on the table. I know I’m supposed to put it up by the register, but I also know I can trust that someone will put it up there for me. “How about we get together for a beer sometime?” I ask him.

“How about on your front porch?”

I laugh. “Deal.”

CHAPTER 22

ASTRID

The doorbell rings,and I look at the girls with a frown. No one ever rings my doorbell. Then again, I haven’t had a door with a keypad on it before.

They follow me to the front of the house. I open the door with a big smile, ready to welcome whoever it is. But my hand falls to my side, and my smile dies immediately when I see my husband standing on my front porch.

“Declan?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him do, then tucks his hands into his pockets. He meets my gaze, but he looks almost sheepish.

“It occurs to me that I have been bursting into your life, and literally into your home, from the beginning. I’ve been demanding and bossy, haven’t really asked you many questions, and certainly haven’t asked you permission for much of anything. I’m sorry for that.”

I hear a quiet gasp behind me but cannot pull my eyes away from him. I know my mouth is hanging open.

Declan O’Grady does not apologize often or easily. I’m not sure how I know that with such certainty, but I do.

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” I tell him, honestly.

He shakes his head. “That is not true. I definitely do. For the past twenty months, I have been making a lot of assumptions. That was really unfair of me.”

I frown. “I think by now you know that I will tell you, in no uncertain terms, when I don’t like something that you’ve done.”

He inclines his head, acknowledging that, but then says, “I’m sorry I forced you to tell me something so private that you clearly didn’t want me to know.” He swallows. “And I will be going back to Portland tomorrow. If that’s what you want.”

I stare at him. This is so not what I expected.

Of course, the milkshakes and girlfriend time weren’t either.

But then that tracks. Nothing he has done since he got here has been what I’ve expected.

“But I am asking permission to come inside and stay here one more night. Something I probably should’ve done the very first time. Before I just forced my way in and then changed all your windows and doors.”

I manage to shut my mouth and shake my head. Then, finally, an emotion that makes sense and that I know what to do with rises up, overtaking all the others.

Exasperation.

I plant my hands on my hips, letting the blanket I’ve had around me like a cape fall to the floor. Dressed in only his dress shirt, I regard the man that I am married to, am insanely attracted to, and am seemingly constantly surprised by.

“Of course, you are going to do exactly the opposite of what I want you to do,” I tell him. “That is what you have been doing all along. And certainly since you got to Rebel, but really ever since you walked into your grandfather's chambers and said we should get married.”