I take a deep breath. Could he be lying? Sure he could, but everything about his body language says he’s not. If I try looking at this as chief of staff and with that skillset, everything I see points to two men who know they fucked up and want to make it right.
But the stakes are high, man. So damned high.
And I am so damned tired.
“When we finish eating, let’s snuggle on the couch. You can get naked then. I’m exhausted. Set an alarm to wake me up by eleven, so I can call an Uber.”
“I could drive you home, Sir.”
“You have a car?”
He nods.
Normally, I’d say no, don’t take the chance.
Tonight?
“Okay. Set the alarm for midnight, then.” I yawn, weary through the very core of my soul. I know damned well despite telling Liam not to wait up that he will do exactly that, and likely want to talk.
I do not have the energy to deal with that tonight. Not even to fend him off. “On second thought, set it for four a.m.”
“Sir?”
“I’m going to spend the night here. You can drive me home in the morning. That’ll give me time to shave and change.” And maybe I’ll let him say good-morning to Liam. “Unless I give you permission to, you don’t tell Liam what we do or don’t do when we’re together, or what we talk about. He’s not allowed to see your burner, either. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Let my husband stew, thinking we fucked like bunnies all night.
When we finish eating, though, I help him with the dishes and we retreat to his bedroom upstairs. “Why’d she get the master bedroom?”
He shrugs. “Bigger bathroom for all her crap.”
We snuggle in bed together and I try to imagine younger Liam and Ward in college and sharing a tiny bunk.
“Did you want me to do anything for you tonight, Sir?” he asks.
“No. I want to sleep. I slept like crap last night.”
“I’m sorry.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to sayNot your fault, except, yeah, it sort of is partly his fault. “I don’t sleep well alone.”
“Why did you sleep alone?”
“Because I made Liam sleep on the couch. He’s banished there for a while. Until I can’t handle sleeping alone anymore.” His body feels different than Liam’s but I suspect I’ll get used to that soon enough. “We don’t have a guest room.”
It’s easier for me to be angry at Liam because, hellooo, he’s the Master.
He should have had control.
Not saying Ward is blameless, but my husband can be a force of nature. Plus, every minute I spend with Ward shows me exactly why Liam couldn’t quit him after all those years and the traumatic manner in which they parted ways.
“Do you want coffee in the morning, Sir?”
Normally, coffee is my morning job. I don’t mind, either. It’s a routine, a way for me to ease my way into consciousness, until I can switch from auto-pilot mode into fully functioning chief of staff. “Yes, please.”
“How do you take it?”
