Caleb watched the taxi drive off. “Are we going to be here a while?”
“Depends.” Ryan strode to the apartment entrance and checked the directory on the wall. Julia Maxwell. Only her Christian name seemed familiar while the surname could belong to anyone. He pressed on her apartment buzzer, keeping his finger down for long seconds. He waited. When nothing happened, he stabbed the button again.
“She’s either a deep sleeper or she’s not home. Maybe she’s out on a date.”
Ryan’s gut twisted, a sharp pain of protest. “No,” he whispered, appalled at the idea.
Caleb’s dark brows rose. “Just because you’ve given up dating and become a monk, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world should follow your example. What’s so important about Julia?”
Ryan sighed. He pushed the bell one final time, and when nothing happened, turned to his friend, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Ryan, I don’t get it. Why is it so urgent for you to see this Julia?”
Ryan’s chest ached in tandem with the throb at his temples. “Julia is my wife.”
“What?” Caleb grabbed his arm, pincher fingers digging into his biceps. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“The time never seemed right. My memory was patchy, so there was nothing to tell.”
“Fuck, she must have been worried sick when she didn’t hear from you. Why didn’t she ring?”
“She probably tried,” Ryan said. “They took my phone. Even if she managed to get in touch with Seymour, he wouldn’t have believed her. And because the mugging happened between concerts and we only had to cancel one, she most likely thinks I abandoned her.”
“You should have told me, man.”
Ryan tried not to let the pain inside him gain momentum. “At first I couldn’t remember her name. Everything was so foggy I decided my memory might play tricks on me. Besides, Seymour would have had a cow.”
“The ‘no serious relationships’ thing? There’s no reason we can’t get married if we want.”
Ryan snorted. “That’s not what management says. You’ve heard Seymour’s lectures.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to follow his advice,” Caleb said. “It’s not a formal clause in our contract.”
“Is that your year of law talking?”
“Fuck you,” Caleb said, giving him a one finger salute for emphasis. “I was humoring my parents. When did you get married anyhow? How did you do it without me noticing?”
“You attended your family christening over Anniversary weekend. Julia and I flew to Fiji for a four-day break and married while we were there.”
“Congratulations.”
“She’s served divorce papers on me,” Ryan said with a snarl, anger warring with the jagged knife slicing into his brain. He loved her, damn it. “I’m not letting her go without a fight.”
Caleb’s grin lit up his face. “And I worried a three-month break might bore me.” He rubbed his hands together. “This should be fun.”
“There’s nothing funny about a divorce.”
The amusement quit Caleb. “I know that, man, but I understand you. Julia won’t stand a chance. She’ll be putty in your hands again in days. I’ll be your wingman.”
Ryan’s hackles rose and his fingers balled to fists. “You won’t be putting your hands on my wife again. That was a one-time thing.”
Caleb raised his hands in surrender, his gaze steady, reassuring, and some of the tension seeped from Ryan. Caleb was his friend, not the enemy.
“Why don’t we go back to the apartment, grab a few hours’ sleep then stake out her place. You can confront her when we run her to ground.”
It was a sensible solution, despite his need for immediate action. He hesitated before admitting to his exhaustion. The damn headache had taken hold, and his skull thumped like the crazy beat of Neil’s drums during a solo spot. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”
Down but not out. Julia was his wife. His woman, and soon no one would doubt it, least of all her.
