“Me? Hardly.” I blink innocently.
“Here’s the thing. This guy came around to my place and started asking questions about you and Graham. He claimed to be a reporter, but I know a PI when I see one. I saw your engagement post, by the way. Congrats. It’s created quite a stir in football world. ‘Kian Adams’s ex set to marry Graham Harlan.’ But whatever. I didn’t deserve you, and I fucked it up royally. Too much drinking. Too much money. Fame. I’ve hit some rough patches in my career, and I was lashing out.”
I tense. “There’s no excuse for what you did.”
His mouth twists.
“You’re responsible for your actions,” I add. “You caused harm. Don’t do it to someone else. Don’t hurt Missy.”
“Forget her. You look beautiful,” he says, his gaze caressing me.
My lips press together as I say nothing.
He inches closer. “Anyway, I thought you should know that this guy told me you stole Graham’s car. He also asked me about your parents. That’s why I came. I know how private you are and wanted to warn you.”
Graham mentioned that he didn’t file a report about me, just that his car was stolen, so the PI must have talked to the clerk at the front desk.
He makes a noise in his throat, a pained sound. “Tell me, Emmy, was it love at first sight—with Graham?”
I stare down at my beaded shoes. “Yes.”
I feel him glancing at the ring on my finger.
“We were just over, and I thought you’d be more upset or at least wait awhile before going out with someone. I’m hurt that he’s someone I know.” He hangs his head. “Did you plan on meeting him at the motel in the desert?”
I glance at Jane in the window. She’s holding the axe. Jesus.
The less I tell him, the better. “I never cheated on you, Kian. Sometimes it takes meeting the wrong person to find the right one.”
He stands to his feet as he drinks in my features. “Baby. That bullshit doesn’t sound like you. We had something good.”
I narrow my eyes. “We weren’t right for each other, or you wouldn’t have been tracking my phone. You would have had more respect for me. And you never would have choked me. Also, don’t leave flowers here. Don’t be following me down the street. We’re over. You know it. I know it. Graham knows it.”
“I still love you, baby. Don’t marry him,” he says fervently as he takes my hand. I jerk back at the zap of fear that dances up my spine. I guess it will always be there when I encounter him.
Jane exits the store, axe in hand. “Let her go, motherfucker.”
“I do love you. I really do!” He gives me one last longing look, then drops my hand and stalks away.
She slides in next to me, both of us watching his back as he turns the corner.
Jane sighs. “I’m mad at you right now for even talking to him.”
“Hopefully not enough to axe me?”
Her shoulders release the tension she was carrying. “Meh. I guess not. It is your wedding day, and I’d hate to get blood on that dress; plus, you did give me a steady job. I’m actually really hungry. How about a cookie before you tie yourself to Graham?”
“I’ll have to be careful in this dress.”
“Oatmeal raisin. Fresh from the oven.”
“Deal.” We link our arms together and walk back into the store.
“So,” she says as we head to the kitchen, “are you going to let him dip his stick tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
She smirks. “Technically, you aren’t really married until you consummate the union. Do you want me to draw you a diagram?”
“I know how sex works, smart-ass, but it’s a marriage of convenience.”
“Well, it was awfully convenient to let him finger-bang you, so . . .”
I glare at her. “That was different. It just happened. It won’t again.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
She gives me a serious look as she sets down her cookie and takes my hands. “Taking care of us is who you are, and this is part of that—I get it, I do—but if he turns out to be a troll, just come back home.”
Chapter 18
GRAHAM
“Civil ceremonies are so boring,” Brody grouses as he adjusts my tie in my dressing room in my apartment.
He pouts as he finishes the final touches. He tries to fix my hair, and I slap his fingers away. “You’re not doing my hair.”
He cocks his head. “How about some mascara?”