My Darling Bride(83)

She stiffens in my arms.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t say anything, but I can hear the wheels in her head spinning.

A long exhale comes from my chest. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about football.”

“Okay. Wanna talk about the blood on your lip, then?”

I sit up and click on the lamp on the nightstand as she props her head on her arm and watches me. “You saw it? I thought I cleaned it up pretty good at the club.”

“You don’t think I inspect you from head to toe after you’ve been to a bachelor party? I was checking for hickeys and lipstick, and what I get is a busted lip.”

I arch a brow. “Sorry?”

She moves and straddles me, her lace underwear rubbing against my hard cock, making me hiss. My hands land on her hips as she scowls down at me.

“Jane goes to a party, and you don’t think she told me what happened immediately? In graphic detail. Then she admitted that Kian’s been walking past the bookstore and leaving flowers again.”

I narrow my eyes. “Minx. Were you really asleep when I came in?”

“Hell no. I was waiting to see your lip, you jerk! You could have hurt yourself or hit your head, messing with Kian. I was worried about you! Did you really plan the entire thing, for him to be there during your party?”

I grin.

“You are diabolical,” she calls out.

I cup her face and brush our noses together. “You like me just the way I am.”

She pouts. “Did you put some bacterial cream on it?”

“Yes, Ma. Jane had some in her purse.”

She rears back. “Absolutely not. You do not get to call me Ma. That is wrong on so many levels.”

“I was just kidding—come back here,” I say when she tries to crawl away. I tug her back into my lap while she pouts. It makes me chuckle.

“Seriously. Are you mad at me for giving Kian a little taste of his own medicine? Eye for an eye—he deserved a hell of a lot more. I could have really hurt him, but I didn’t. I merely let him know that you have family. And friends. And a badass husband who will protect you until the end.”

Our eyes cling, her green to my gray, as the silence builds between us. “‘Until the end’?”

I reach over and click off the light. I do not want to talk about that.

“Can we just cuddle?” I ask as I ease her back down to the bed.

“Anytime.” She runs her fingers through my hair, then carefully inspects my split lip. Her eyes hold mine for a long time as she studies each of my features as if cataloging them for later.

“What?” I ask softly.

Her throat moves delicately as she swallows before she speaks. “No one’s ever protected me before. No one has ever been this good to me.”

“Darling, I’m yours. You never have to worry.”

She dips her face so I can’t read her eyes and snuggles into my neck. “You know my greatest fear?”

“Yeah,” I say as my fingers idly drift down her shoulder to her arm.

“I’m not afraid anymore,” she whispers. “Of this.”

Silence fills the room as I digest her words. I get what she’s telling me, and it makes my heart do somersaults in my chest. Her hand rests there as if she senses my own fear.

My throat tightens with words I can’t say. My own fear still clings to me. My armor is still intact. Right?

“That’s great,” I say before kissing the top of her head. Eventually she slides away and turns over with her back to me. A long breath comes from my lips as I curl around her, my hand encircling her waist.





Chapter 26


EMMY


A chill runs over me, even though it’s August. I’m in bed, my hands twisting the sheet as I grapple with the knot in my gut, trying to suss out where it’s coming from.

Maybe it’s because of Graham’s preseason game. With each day that draws closer to him going back on the football field, I want to beg him not to play.

Maybe it’s because I’m seeing my doctor soon. My hand touches my chest, checking the beats. Steady. Normal. But they haven’t always been recently. Something isn’t right.

I get up out of bed and slip on a slinky white robe and make my way to the window. I step out onto the balcony that overlooks Central Park. Even though I miss seeing Londyn in the mornings, I adore this view. I inhale a deep breath, trying to shake off the earlier feeling of trepidation.

Time has slipped by as the days have turned into weeks with us in the apartment. Each day brings new information about Graham. He’s never tried watermelon. He eats his french fries with mayo. That one made me giggle for a full five minutes until he told me to try it, and it wasn’t terrible. He loves warm weather and the sound of the ocean. He has a triangle-shaped birthmark on his hip and a tricky knee that he massages each morning, then ices down after practice. He still grieves from his mother’s death. I know because I’ve asked him to play his baby grand, and he tells me he’s not ready.

“Hey, sleepyhead. I made you a tea,” Graham says as he steps out onto the balcony. He’s wearing gym shorts and a practice shirt, and the sheen of sweat covers him. He’s been on an early-morning run. Today is Sunday, and I slept longer since Babs opens today at noon. I’ll pop in a little bit later.