“My mother-in-law is the same way,” he says graciously, moving his hands out of biting range.
The interior’s bright with white leather seats, blue accents, almost blinding. There’s a square glass conference table with two sets of seats facing each other. I pick the couch, thinking it might be easier to talk that way.
We’re already up in the air and Marco is plying me with drinks and snacks by the time Wallace makes his way back.
“Sit down,” I pat the spot next to me. “Can wetalk?”
He pulls off his jacket, throwing it on the couch, rolling up his sleeves. At any time less terrible than this, I’d be complimenting him for being the living embodiment of suit porn, but I keep it to myself. What iswrongwith me?
“I’m sorry, love. I must make some calls. Give me a moment.” He’s already dialing another number.
“Of course. Can I…” I flounder, he feels like someone else in that suit with that English accent. “Get you a drink?”
A quick, distracted smile. “Thank you.”
I almost have to shove Marco out of the way to make the drink myself. It’s silly, but it’s all I have to offer Wallace right now. My heart sinks a little to see he’s already set up his laptop on the glass table, scrolling through some documents as he talks in a low murmur.
Sitting back down on the couch, I pet Murder Mittens until she’s irritated enough to bat my hand away. My phone rings and I dive for it, grateful for any distraction.
“Are you all right?” It’s Sloan. I like how she cuts to the chase.
“I am. I mean, I’m worried about Alastair and Sorcha, of course, but Wallace…” I look over at the conference table. He’s put on a headset and he’s pacing.
“Is he shouting and throwing shite, or going all cold and calm?” Arabella calls from the background.
“The second one,” I say. “Who’s there?”
“Kenna and Luna are here, too,” Sloan says.
“The uncles are all losing their shit,” Luna adds. “An attack on one brother is an attack on them all, you know how they are.”
I let out a little half laugh, half sob. “It’s really nice to hear your voices.”
“Any one of us can be there within two hours if you need us,” Sloan says gently. “You have to take care of Wallace, who, being a MacTavish, will insist that he doesn’t need any help.”
“Yep,” Luna agrees.
“Oh hell, aye,” Arabella says fervently. “They’re a nightmare.”
Given that she’s married to Logan, who is a walking, talking, ticking chaos bomb, the woman knows what she’s talking about.
“What should I do?” God, I feel like an idiot, asking how to help my own husband.
“Give him the space right now,” Kenna says sympathetically. “He’s gathering information to try to gain some sense of control. Once he’s had a chance to see his father, he’ll calm down, aye?”
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
“Hang in there, okay? We’re here if you need us.” Sloan ends the call with the others calling out their goodbyes as she does.
Other than Morgan, I haven’t had any true family since my parents died. Now, suddenly, there are so many people wanting to look out for me, who are worried and care, even if they couldn’t help.
Looking at Wallace, I suck in a deep breath. I doubt I can do anything either, but I’ll just… be here. For when he needs me. Getting up, I head over to pick up his glass.
“Another one?”
Distracted, he looks up briefly and nods before going back to his conversation. Murder Mittens leaps off my shoulders to sit next to Wallace’s laptop, her gaze fixed on him. Maybe she’s just being there for him, too. Fixing another drink and a plate of small sandwiches, I put them on the table next to his elbow and sit back down.
And I wait. Which is the hardest thing in the world to do.
