Free More Than a Man by Emily Ryan-Davis Page A

extent
that you let it matter. What is important here is not her.
It's you."
    She fisted her hands in her hair, clenching
her teeth. "It's not about me, Aya. It's about how she is going to
treat you."
    "I'm telling you, don't worry about me. You
worry entirely too much about what other people think."
    He opened the door and got out, leaving her
to follow.
    The neatly kept stone path led to the front
steps and every step weighed on her. She had brought him into this
situation. It was her responsibility to ensure he wasn't
harmed.
    At the door, he stopped, turning her to face
him. "You work yourself into a state over things you can’t fix. It
is a sad truth people don’t think of others when they speak or act.
You can't change other people, Noelle. You can only change yourself
and your reactions. I choose not to give your mother the power to
hurt me."
    The knot in her stomach didn’t ease. No
matter what he said, she knew from experience her mother's words
could hurt. Bracing herself, she knocked.
    Her dad opened the door. Relief made her
shoulders sag even as his welcoming smile faded to puzzlement.
    "Dad." Her tone drew frowns from both
men.
    "Noelle, honey. What's wrong?"
    His instant concern made her want to hug him
and never let go. Dad never let her down. Dad never hurt her. Why
the hell couldn't she want someone like him? She cleared her
throat. "Um, Dad, this is my new husband, Aya. Aya, my dad, Richard
Lytton."
    Surprise gave way quickly to a genuine smile
of welcome. "Call me Rich. We weren't expecting you."
    Aya cut a speaking look to Noelle. "So I
understand. Sorry to spring it on you."
    Rich held open the door. His sandy brows
arched and he ran his tongue over his teeth. "Somehow I don't think
it was your idea. Come on in.”
    Noelle followed her father into the house.
Aya’s hand rested on the small of her back, a heated reminder of
their connection. How could such a small touch keep her so attuned
to him?
    Acutely conscious of the polish and style of
the house, she worried her lower lip. Her own house was very
different, more cottage than showplace. A symbol of how different
she was from her mother.
    They went through the kitchen, all modern
appliances and sleek work surfaces, toward the back yard. Her
mother was engrossed in an animated conversation with Joy, her
hands gesturing widely. Joy nodded thoughtfully in response.
    “Noelle’s here, Viv,” Rich announced. Both
her mother and Joy turned. Horror froze Vivian’s features, her eyes
wide her lips slightly parted. Joy quirked a perfect dark brow at
her sister.
    She felt her shoulders stiffen, felt the hope
die in her chest. Why did she ever think her mother would accept
her decisions?
    Swallowing, she walked out onto the patio. If
Aya hadn’t pressed the issue earlier, she probably would have
chickened out and introduced him by name only, omitting his
position in her life. Unwilling to hurt him, she mustered her
courage. “Hi, Mom, Joy. This is my husband, Aya. Aya, my mother
Vivian and my sister Joy.”
    Vivian shot to her feet, smoothing her skirt.
“Oh! I didn’t realize. Um, how nice to meet you, Aya.”
    Joy rose slowly to stand next to their
mother. Noelle avoided her sister’s curious glances.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lytton.
You’ve a lovely home.”
    Noelle jerked around to search his face. What
did that mean?
    “Thank you.” She blinked and fell silent.
    Joy held out her hand and Aya took it.
    “What a pleasant surprise,” Joy said
earnestly, her smile as genuine as their father’s had been.
    Aya smiled back, his teeth very white against
his golden skin. It struck her in that moment that she hadn’t seen
him really smile. Little half-smiles and quirky grins, but not a
full-blown smile. And his first smile was for her sister. Some
emotion squeezed her heart and emptied her lungs. Deity, what was
wrong with her? She wanted him to be friendly.
    Forcing air back into her lungs, she put her
hand on Aya’s arm. The