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I took out my phone and Googled how long I’d go to jail if I kidnapped her.
“You’re okay.” It was a chant, a mantra, a promise. “I got you. You’re okay.”
“Because a million different things can be said about you, about anyone. Some may be true, but in my experience, most accounts aren’t. I don’t want to hear anything about you unless it comes from you.”
“What she said about your smile was my favorite part.” Weird.“Why?”
“Because you don’t give it up freely.” He met my gaze. “But when you do, it’s fucking magical.”
And then, when we argued, she said I wasn’t hers, and I wanted to tell her to take the fucking words back.
He grew serious again, his brows pulling slightly. “The liquor was unopened and you drank.” “You were there.” I shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“Can you skate?” “I grew up in Colorado,” he said, and I knew he had one of his WTF expressions on his face. “Of course, I can skate.”
My heart sped up. No way. No fucking way he’d told his mother about me. I managed to nod, mouth hanging slightly open. “Um, yeah. That would be me,” I said, suddenly a little more nervous than I had been. Valerie smiled wide, confirming that he had indeed told her about me. What had he said? Oh my God. I was going to kill him for this.
My chest gripped tightly. “We just met.” “Love has no logic.”
“Put your lips on her and I’ll make you swallow your fucking teeth.”
She looks at me, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to find something that she’s not sure is there. I wish I knew what she was looking for so I could just fucking give it to her.
I usually drink my liquor straight up, but I’ll say yes to anything when she’s touching me and looking at me like that. A boat? A car? An airplane? Yes, yes, yes.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she says, nodding toward the bartender. “But Pat’s gay and definitely not interested in me that way.” Huh. I know that it shouldn’t matter, but I take him off my shit list anyway. He’s officially the only person on the nice list for now.
Somehow, we made it downstairs without mauling each other — probably because we haven’t spoken. I think if he would have even said “push the button” to me in the elevator, I would have jumped on him.
“You bathed me?” Her lips twitch. “Yep.” Fuck. She bathed me and I don’t even remember? “I’m probably going to need a lot of help bathing for the next couple of days.”
“You never have to thank me for protecting you. That’s my job.” “Your job?” Her lips quirk as she goes back to the bandage on my right hand. “What’s the job title exactly?” “Husband.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Lyla,” Dad shouts, pounding the table with his fist. “Careful,” Lach says, his voice low and menacing. I grip the bottom of his shirt so he doesn’t stand. His knees start to bounce. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” he seethes.
“Will you move there?” “I go wherever she goes,” he says,
“Is that what the TWO-HOUR meeting is about?” “I’m not getting involved,” he says, putting up his hands.
“My wife is sitting in your office.” I snap. “You’re already involved.” “Your fiancée,” he says with a smile. Oh-ho-ho. I’m going to jail today.
I watch her go up to Prescott and say something. My mom, dad, and now Liam, who’s joined the party like a FUCKING TRAITOR, are sipping their champagne and looking at me like I’m the one who’s acting crazy.
Her dad wipes his face. Prescott wipes his face. These fuckers are going to make me cry.
