Grayson chuckles and steps back. “Retract your claws, Stell. No one is saying they know better than you. Jesus, are you pregnant?”
She glares at him and then turns to me. “Look, Oliver, Maren is a woman who was dumped a few days before her wedding. She’s in a state of trauma too. Her father is dying, her stepmother isn’t an easy person to deal with, and she faked a relationship and fell for the guy. It’s a lot, and I’m telling you now, she could be the strongest woman you know and she would still be vulnerable at the heart of it.” Then she turns to Grayson. “To answer your question, yes, I am pregnant. Jack doesn’t know yet so keep your trap shut.”
Gray and I smile. “Congratulations, Stella.”
She softens a bit. “Thank you. It’s taken a while, and it’s still early. After losing a baby six months ago, I didn’t have the heart to tell Jack yet.”
I didn’t know she lost a baby. She never said a word. “Stell—”
She lifts her hand. “It’s fine. I’m happy, and so far, everything looks great. Just, I’m apparently a bit emotional and hormonal. Now, back to you . . . are you going to Georgia?”
As much as I’d like to keep talking about Stella, she’ll never allow it. My sister loves nothing more than getting her way or her point across.
“She had a lot of chances to ask me, and she didn’t.” I take a step forward and breathe through my teeth.
“What is wrong with you?” Gray asks. “You’re walking funny.”
“I pulled a muscle.”
“What? How?” Stella switches from annoyed to concerned so fast it’s impressive.
I smirk, which causes my sister to make a gagging noise. “Gross.”
“Jealous?” I toss back at her.
“That you pulled a muscle having sex? No.”
“You should be,” I say with a bit of male pride. “I clearly am doing it well.”
Stella laughs. “That would be if she was walking funny, not you, dumbass.”
“Whatever. I’m going to my office. I want to see if there are any leads for weddings we can book. The photographer called and let me know we should have images for the website by the end of the week.”
“Good, that should help. Isn’t Maren’s aunt posting her article too?” Grayson asks.
“Yes, between that and the images on our website, we should be in good shape.”
“We are. You? Not so much,” Grayson points out as I hobble away.
It was worth it. So fucking worth it.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor . . .” Maren suggests over the phone.
“And say what? I had amazing sex with my wife and pulled something.”
We’ve been married for less than a week, and she’s already nagging. Okay, she isn’t nagging so much as pushing because she’s concerned. Still, I’m fine. It’s swollen but nothing to be worried over.
“You can leave some of the details out, but I think you should at least go so you can walk.”
“It doesn’t hurt.” Well, it doesn’t hurt enough to tell her.
“Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have it checked out.”
Maybe she has a point. “Will it make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Then who am I to deny you?” I say, grabbing my suit jacket off the back of the door.
“Are you unpacked?” she asks.
“For the most part.”
She lets out a long sigh. “When I come back, I want to decorate your cabin if you’ll let me.”
“Come now,” I suggest.
My place isn’t anything to write home about, but it’s far more comfortable than the RV I stayed in for over a year. The cabin is small but has everything I need, including running water and heat. That is a step up from the generator and thimble-sized hot water heater the RV had. As for decorations, I couldn’t give two shits about them, but if it gets her here, I’m in.
“I wish I could. I need to get into the office and see if Mark is back yet.”
“Still no answer?” I ask. It would be nice to know exactly what our status is so we aren’t in the strange limbo anymore.
“No, but he’ll be in today, and once I assess the team, what’s going on, and whether we are legally married, I’ll probably book my flight to Georgia.”
“Any changes?”
Maren is quiet for a second. “No, but I assume he’s gotten worse. I called Linda this morning, and she was in a mood. She said that if I cared, I would be there instead of waiting for him to be closer to death’s door.”
“Maren . . .”
“I know, I know,” she says. “He wouldn’t want me to just sit around, but she has a point. I need to go, and . . . well, I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
She still hasn’t said anything about wanting me there, but the thing is, I want to go. I care about her and want to help shoulder her burdens. We’re trying to make this a real relationship, but we also need to keep up the charade about being married.
As her husband, I would go.
As her boyfriend, I want to go.
“What if I go with you?”
“What?” Her voice rises a few octaves.
“I can work remotely if I need to, but my siblings have everything in hand. I should be there with you . . . I want to be there with you.”
She doesn’t say anything. I can imagine her sitting there, calculating the words, creating a plan that has fifteen different contingencies before speaking.
“You want to go with me?”
“No, I want to be there with you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
She sniffles. “If you’re trying to get me to leave you, you’re doing a shit job of convincing me you’re not perfect.”
“I’m not perfect.”
Maren sighs deeply. “You might just be perfect for me.”
And that’s something that makes my heart pound. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“I want to be with you more than I want to be apart. So, yes, it would mean the world to me, and I think it would mean a lot to Daddy too.”
“Then I’ll see you in a few days.”
That feels like a lifetime.
“One condition,” Maren says before we disconnect.
“What?”
“You go to the doctor. We aren’t going to be able to have sex if you can barely move.”
“When you put it that way . . .” I say with a laugh. If I have to, I’ll force myself to walk normally when I see her. Nothing is going to keep me from making love to her. Nothing.
Twenty-Three
MAREN
“So, how was the honeymoon?” Mark asks as he walks into my office.
“It was good. What’s going on with the team?”
“You’re going to give yourself an ulcer at this rate.” He plops down in the chair across from me and gives me a rundown of what happened. Basically, the analyst who was helping out didn’t jive well, leaving my guys exposed in ways I never would’ve allowed. She threw my plans out the window and went rogue.
She’s no longer employed here.
“I should’ve been here.”
“You were a little busy.”
I shake my head, guilt hitting me in the chest. “They’re my team.”
“And they’re all fine,” Mark assures me. “Jackson and I had a long talk about this while we were out in the field. First, you’re no longer having a set team.”
“Mark!” I protest.
“Relax, Sharkbait, you don’t run this company, we do.”