Huxley
I head to the foyer with Grace, who straightens her dress to look presentable. I shed my wrinkled tux jacket and pull the cuff links out of my sleeves so that I can roll them up.
“He’s taking too long to get here from the gates,” I grouse. “It’s getting docked from his five minutes.”
She just hugs herself and shivers. I pull her toward me and put my arm around her, lending her my warmth. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just… Something feels off. Adam wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t important. What if Mom’s doctor contacted him?”
“Why would he do that?”
“Adam is listed as an emergency contact. In case Nelson or I are unavailable.”
I grudgingly admit that that’s reasonable. Still, the fact that Adam has that connection with her and could use it to get her to see him regardless of the time of day is infuriating. I’m going to replace him with myself on the contact list.
Finally, Adam shows up. His suit is wrinkled, the tie pulled down to mid-chest and half undone. Red rims his bloodshot eyes, and he smells like alcohol.Helped yourself generously to my liquor, didn’t you?His hair stands up like a bird’s nest after a hurricane. There’s a grayish-green tinge to his already substandard complexion. If he throws up, I’m going to call the police and bill him for the cleanup.
“What happened to you?” Grace’s voice is all sympathy and concern.
She makes a move to go to him, but I tighten my arm around her. She isn’t touching that rabid shit. Look at him. He’s diseased. Unhinged. Possibly both.
“I tried to be open-minded. Really. Be happy for you,” Adam says, somehow managing to stand upright.
“Thank you,” Grace says awkwardly.
“But… You married a violent man.”
Is this fucker serious?
He continues, “Are you really okay?”
I start to step forward to give him a demonstration of just how violent a man I can be, but Grace leans into me. “I’m more than okay, Adam. Huxley has been very good to me.”
Her words soothe my temper somewhat.
“But what about Nelson—”
“He slapped me first. My husband did what he had to do.”
“You’re alone in the world because of your mother’s bills! Is he”—Adam points at me—“using them to control you?”
“No.” Grace sounds pained, and maybe a little bit embarrassed and exasperated. “Adam, please. You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Hear that? Now get out,” I say.
He turns to me, his gaze burning with grievance.
I mentally shrug. The world is unfair, and he should blame himself for not doing everything in his power to protect and woo Grace before. The only reason he’s angry is because he had no capacity to do so and wants to blame somebody else for his failure.
“You don’t deserve her,” he spits out finally. “She’s too special for someone like you.”
I shoot him a cool, triumphant smile. “Yet I have her in my home and in my bed. It’s my ring on her finger. She bears myname. She is Mrs. Huxley Lasker, and she will be the mother of my child.”
He turns red as I speak, but then smirks when I mention the baby. “Who cares about all that stupid shit?” He laughs unsteadily. “A ring. That doesn’t make her yours.”
“You dare covet my wife?”
“And your child?” he continues, sneering. “The doctor thought it was mine.” Another laugh.
