“Do you not know what a migraine is?” He whispers it low and fierce.
“Yeah, a headache?—”
“Your wife gets migraines, and you didn’t Google what that means?” Adler’s eyes gleam challengingly like he can see right through me—and doesn’t much like what he finds.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” But he has on that fucking smirk as if he knows exactly what I mean.
I should just punch him and get this over with. But what my mind sticks on isyour wife. “Sav has a migraine and what—you’re in here playing hero?” I say. “Or is this just your way of trying to fuck her?”
“I was checking on her.”
Fuck. That’s somehow worse—that he knew something I didn’t. I won’t be embarrassed. Not here, not in front of him. Not with Savannah in earshot.
“Let me go.” I need to get away from Adler and his burning accusations and the dark line of his eyelashes and his fat, wet lower lip and that smug expression I want to punch. The vent blows cold air on my face. Better. “Stay away from my wife.” My voice is sticky in my throat.
Adler’s nostril flicks in disgust. At some point, his hand curled into a fist. Slowly, he unclenches it like he’s struggling against himself. But he releases me. Runs a palm down the frontof my shirt as if smoothing it out. His lips twitch when I bat his hands away.
“Be seeing you, Forsyth,” he says, then he finally, finally leaves.
For a moment, I stand there, adrift. I straighten my clothes. My suit is wrinkled, my hair out of place. If anyone was watching and saw me come in here and Asher leave, they might think we were…
We were fighting. Just fighting. I straighten my already-straightened shirt some more.
Noise echoes from the bathroom, the sound of fabric rustling and water running. Savannah emerges a moment later in a tank top and sweats, her hair pulled up in a messy bun.
One of her tank top straps trails down her arm. I want to run my thumb under it, the way I did that bandage-y corset-thing she was wearing earlier. She said it was to help her dress fit better—as if her body was somehow a problem. Mostly, her dress fit her so well that that shapewear was the only thing stopping me from continuing that pretend kiss, from parting that high slit in her dress and asking her if my aching cock felt anything but real.
That shapewear—and the fact that she would have told meno.
She stops short as if surprised to find me in the room. “Oh, Brayden, hey.” Her forehead looks…tense.
Adler might have been lying about her having a migraine. Worse, he might have been telling the truth. That means Savannah was here and in pain and I didn’t know anything about it. “You have a headache?” I ask.
She winces, then nods. “Sorry I’m missing the party.” She glances down at herself. “Probably not what you were expecting for tonight. I enjoyed meeting your family. Well, some of them.”
I laugh, and that makes her wince again. “Are you…” I trail off.Bothered by me being here?“Is the noise a problem?”
“Yeah, noise isn’t great. Sometimes when these happen, the best thing is just to be alone for a little while.” She glances toward the door, an impliedget out.
If she wants to be alone, I’ll leave her alone. But she wasn’talonewith Adler here. The thought makes my gut churn in a way that has nothing to do with anything I’ve drunk.Be seeing you.Said like a challenge.
No, said like a threat.
If he wants to try to win her over, he’s welcome to try. Unlike some people, I don’t give up easy, and I don’t run away when things get tough.
So if he thinks he can take Savannah from me without a fight…game fucking on.
Chapter Fourteen
Savannah
The dayafter our wedding party, I’m still fighting my postdrome headache. That doesn’t matter, though, when Barb declares that we need to be seen in church this morning.
No excuses.
The Peaches have a Sunday evening game—they’ll be on the national broadcast against the Monsters, which even I can tell is a big deal—so Brayden and Blake have to come too.
