Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(66)

But Porter made me feel all those things. He was quite literally a dream come true.

“And you,” he murmured, placing a hand gently behind my neck, “are my heaven.”

I was stunned.

In our religion, heaven was the ultimate destination, the place we worked so hard to earn. For Porter to say I was his heaven here on earth left me speechless. Utterly and completely speechless.

“How can you say such a thing?” My curiosity was getting the better of me. I couldn’t just accept a compliment of this magnitude; I had to understand it.

He took a deep breath. “The compound . . . that place is my hell. It represents all of the awful things that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. But you, you’re my heaven. My new beginning, my paradise. Does that make sense?”

Completely overcome with his confession, I pressed my lips to his, deepening the kiss immediately. I moved to straddle his stomach, then leaned over to plant kiss after kiss on his face, his neck, and his chest before finally accepting the most breathtaking compliment of my life.

“Yes, it does.” My eyes welled with tears. “Thank you.”

Porter pushed to a seated position, holding me steady in his lap so that my legs wrapped around his waist, and my heels pressed into the muscles of his back.

He swallowed hard, his eyes wary as he said, “I’m in love with you.”

I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t scare me. But I felt the same way and I needed to express it, but somehow those three words didn’t seem adequate.

Porter apparently could read the worry on my face. “What is it?” he asked, shifting slightly.

“I’m not sure I can form the words. Love doesn’t seem like enough. You’re just . . . you’ve changed my life.”

“And you’ve changed mine.” He still looked confused as his fingertips slid down my cheeks.

“I love you in a way that I didn’t know I could,” I finally said, and Porter smiled and released a sigh. “And I love you in a way that I never will again.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his expression pained. “We have to do this, Brin. You and me. Please don’t say no. I’m begging you.”

“I know,” I said, smoothing his hair with my fingertips as I nodded. “I’ll never say no to you again.”

The screams in my head had arrived.

And I welcomed them with open arms.



Chapter 23

“How are you feeling?” Jorjina Black asked me. We were sitting at her dining room table, waiting for our cherry pie to finish baking. Jorjina had been hesitant to try my mother’s specialty dessert, claiming that chocolate was the one and only gateway to her heart. But I’d insisted, wanting to share the recipe with someone who appreciated sweets as much as Jorjina did.

To say that I was apprehensive around her would be accurate. I was. But I enjoyed her company, and was feeling slightly relieved that when I’d begrudgingly returned to the Cluff household after my night away, no one seemed to even notice that I’d been gone. Lehi wasn’t waiting for me, and Leandra wasn’t jumping to confront me about my secrets or my whereabouts.

Could I trust Jorjina? I wasn’t sure. But I was required to spend my days with her, so decided to make the very best of it. And that included making my mother’s famous cherry pie.

“I’m fine.” I crossed my hands over my abdomen, as was expected of me. According to the calendar, I was about to begin my second trimester, so I played the part. “My morning sickness is calming down. Hopefully that’s not a bad sign.”

“It’s time. Soon you’ll enter the gorging phase.” She cackled, then took a sip of her tea.

“Gorging?”

“Sure.” She threaded her fingers together, leaning her hands on the mahogany table. “Food tastes exquisite in the second trimester. No more crackers for you, girl.”

I smiled, wishing I could trust this woman. She was so unlike Leandra or any of my sister wives. She felt like family.

But family doesn’t spy on you—or report your behavior to the prophet.

“Listen,” she said, a serious look taking over her face. “I’ve made a decision, and you’re not allowed to object, because, well . . . just because.”

“Okay . . .” I dug my teeth dug into my bottom lip, wondering what she could possibly mean.

Jorjina rose to her feet, removed a wad of bills from her pocket, and held them in the palm of her hand. “Stand up.”

I did as I was told. And when I did, she shoved the money into the pocket of my dress.

“Jorjina, why—?”

She shook her head and grasped my hands. “You’ve been with me for weeks, day in and day out. You deserve to be paid.”

“I can’t accept this.” Pulling away, I dug my hand into the pocket and clutched the money. “This job is an honor, it’s—”

“Stop.” The wrinkles in her forehead deepened, punctuating the severity of her tone. “I want you to have this. I’m an old woman, Clarence takes care of me. I have no bills, no worries, and nothing to spend my money on. I’d like to spend it on you.”

“But . . . but Lehi takes care of me, as well,” I replied, playing along with my role as a happily married woman and mother-to-be.