For a heartbeat, I forget where I am. Forget how I got here.
Then yesterday’s memories flash into my mind.
The courthouse. The papers. The kiss on the steps that made my knees nearly buckle.
Elliott showing up at the Reserve, smiling like he owned me.
Langston storming across the bar and pinning him with that lethal glare before claiming me with words I’ll never forget.Don’t touch my fucking wife.
My chest squeezes at the memory.
And now, this. His arm wrapped around me like it belongs there. Like I belong here.
I try to put a word to the feeling blooming in my chest. It’s not comfortable, not warm—though it is both of those things. It’s more.
Safe.
The realization knocks the air out of me.
Safe in the arms of a man I barely know. Safe with the husband I swore I didn’t want.
Which means it’s time to panic.
I slip carefully out of bed, pulling his T-shirt tighter around me, and change back into my uniform from the Reserve. The plan is simple: bail before he wakes. Clean break. No messy explanations.
But when I grab the door handle, something makes me glance back.
Langston’s still asleep, sprawled across the bed like he’s been fighting demons in his dreams. Even in rest, there’s tension in his jaw. Power in the set of his shoulders. And for some reason, the sight makes my chest ache.
I can’t do it. I can’t just walk out.
So instead, I run down the block, grab coffee and bagels—something normal—and pray he doesn’t think it’s stupid.
By the time I get back, I’m muttering under my breath, annoyed with myself. “So stupid. Should’ve just left. Who even knows if he drinks coffee? Or eats bagels? God, he’s going to hate this. I’m terrible at this wife thing.”
The door shuts behind me, and then I see him.
Langston’s standing there, watching me like he’s been waiting all morning.
The relief on his face hits me like a sucker punch.
And just like that, I know I made the right decision. Not running. Not leaving him to wake up in an empty bed.
For the first time since this whole insane marriage started, I don’t feel like bolting.
I feel like staying.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” I rush out, setting the bags on the small table near the window. “So I just… got a little of everything. Coffee, tea, bagels, donuts, some fruit—honestly it’s probably ridiculous now. You probably hate half of it.”
Langston doesn’t say anything at first. He just studies me with that unreadable expression of his—dark eyes sharp, calm, too still.
“I should’ve just—”
He crosses the room in three long strides, cutting off my rambling. He takes the cups from me and sets them down. His hands come up, warm and steady, framing my face.
“You left,” He says searching her face. “I thought—”
“I just wanted to do something normal.” I bite my lip before I start to ramble again.
