One I should be banned from, but it’s too late for that.
I don’t deserve her, but she doesn’t deserve to shoulder my self-deprecation, so I’ll rise above it. For her. Somehow, I’ll stuff it all down and be everything she needs.
Resisting the urge to move even though my balls are zinging with anticipation, I simply bask in the comfort of being molded to every inch of her naked work of art. Staying like this all day would be a dream, but the smell of bacon reminds me that Gage is here.
Reluctantly, I detangle myself from her. This is why people go away for their honeymoons. Every cell of my being protests the whole prospect of not being entwined with my wife. But Gage did drop everything and walk into a shitstorm that will have us both reamed out, probably by the end of the night. So, off I go.
After washing up and throwing on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, I pull the curtains tighter to evict the golden rays, plant a kiss on Rena’s temple, and sneak out of the room.
It’s noisier than expected. Gage must be watching one of his Regency romance shows alone, which is fifty shades of pathetic and only enhancing my guilt for abandoning him all morning. My stomach growls obnoxiously as I trudge through the house to find him, following the delicious aromas wafting through the air.
When I round the corner into the kitchen, it isn’t only a bald head that welcomes me; it’s a flash of ginger hair beside that bald head. My heart plummets into my depleted stomach, instantly rendering me nauseous. It’s not that I don’t relish the sight of Ivy beaming at me in an apron and cooking up a storm; it’s that she wouldn’t be here alone.
She drops her spatula and rushes for me, jumping into my arms before I’ve even made it fully into the room. “Ty, you got married without us. What the hell?”
“Sorry, Freckles.” I squeeze her back and peck her cheek, attempting to scan the area behind her as my choppy breath crashes out of my lungs. “It was a snap decision, but a long time coming. I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Snap decision? I’ll say.” She belts out a laugh. “But long time coming is the truth. I’ve been waiting for you two to get together, to see you happy. I wish the circumstances were different, but this is—”
That exuberant, uplifting joy is cut off by another voice—one decidedly infuriated.
“Get the fuck in here, Reynolds,” Wells barks. “Nice of you to wake up this afternoon.”
Fuck me.
I rub my forehead and gnaw on my inner cheek while Ivy frowns at me, blinking her big blue eyes and whispering, “You know he loves you. Just let him rage. Think of it as a Nicolas Cage performance.”
She didn’t select a specific movie because Nicolas Cage rages in practically every role he’s ever played. Still, I grant her aVampire’s Kissreference with one of his most unhinged rants because she’ll appreciate it.
“Right,” I sigh. “Let’s hope he leaves it at the alphabet.”
Ivy giggles, muttering, “Nice,” before returning to the stove as I amble in for my lashing.
And the gang’s all here.
Wells points at me and then at an island stool. “Sit.”
There’s nothing to do but follow orders when he gets like this, so I obediently take a seat. Although I’m rarely the object of his wrath. Which is why—behind the outraged Chief—Liam is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Gage is shaking his head, and Celeste is feeding Felicity a bottle but staring at me in utter empathy.
I’m glad Rena isn’t awake yet. I wouldn’t want her to think this had anything to do with her, but she’d surely draw that conclusion.
“Three. Things. That’s all you had to fucking do, Ty. Three goddamn things.” Wells is pacing and chomping on a Tootsie Pop like it has personally offended him. Maybe he’s envisioning that to be my head. I’m not sure I could even blame him.
Silence is my current defense mechanism. Primarily because I fucked up, so there’s nothing productive to add to the conversation. I’ll own it. But like Ivy suggested, he needs to unleash his rage because he’s got one hell of a mess to clean up.
“Do you remember what three things you agreed to?” he asks.
This is like jumping onto a trampoline of shit.
I swallow and keep my unwavering gaze on him. “Lie low, dick in my pants, keep you informed.”
He halts his pacing and pins me with a contemptuous gape. “That’s right. I didn’t fucking imagine that goddamn call then. So, in response, you galivanted all over the city, fucked her, took out a house full of Balzano foot soldiers”—he pauses there and shoots Gage a death glare—“informed me of nothing, and then married her. Do I have everything?”
Gage obviously filled him in on all the finer points in that Murphy line call.
“I think that about covers it,” I say, to which Liam slaps the table and howls.
“Shut your suck, Graves,” Wells snipes.
