She tracks the space around us, unable to focus on me. Too worried about someone else walking up on us, I guess. “Yeah,” she exhales. “I need to tell you something too.”
Her words don’t come out eager the way mine do. Instead, her statement is laced with dread.
“Is everything okay?”
“No.” Her throat bobs in a thick swallow. “It’s not.”
Panic pricks my skin. This heavy impending doom settles between the two walls on either side of us, suffocating this small corner. When I examine Reese more closely, there’s an almost vacant look on her usually expressive face.
I slide my hand over her thigh. “Reese, tell me what’s wrong.”
So I can fix it, I silently add.
Looking around again, she takes my hand off her leg and drops it at my side. “You can’t do that, Emmett. Not here. Not anymore.”
Okay. We’ve literally fucked in her office here, so I’m not sure why she’s tripping out over me hardly touching her while no one is around.
But then that last part replays in my head.Not anymore.
Alarms sound off as my stomach sinks to a nauseating level.
“You’re freaking me out, Reese. What’s going on?”
Her deep blues trail over my face, as if she were memorizing it. Tracing the shape of my lips. The line of my jaw. It’s almost unnerving in a way, but only because I plan to be right next to her for a long time to come. She doesn’t need to memorize anything.
At least, that’s what my dwindling hope is trying to reassure me.We’re still okay. We still have plenty of time.
On the ledge beside her, Reese grabs an envelope and holds it in her lap before finally extending it toward me. She doesn’t explain the contents, but as soon as I open it, she doesn’t need to.
My heart hammers when I see the first picture, but in the best way. Because these pictures so clearly show how much I love this woman. How right we fit together. How happy we are.
Were, my brain screams.
These pictures showcase how proud she is to have me next to her. How adoringly I watch her even when she’s not looking.Honestly, some of these should probably be framed so I can have a couple in my apartment. I think they may be our very first pictures we’ve taken together, other than the professional ones that were snapped last night. And for only a second, I truly enjoy flipping through them.
Until I realize what they are.
Someone took these last night and it wasn’t the wedding photographer.
“Where did these come from?”
My eyes flit up to Reese to find her watching me thumb through the photos. She’s overwhelmed, checked out, but there’s an underlying apology in her features.
“Scott.”
“What do you mean, ‘Scott’?”
“Scott paid someone to take them last night. I walked into my office to find him waiting for me this morning with that envelope.”
I could fucking kill him.
I slip the envelope into the back pocket of my jeans. “Where is he?”
“Emmett. No.”
“Where the fuck is he, Reese? I’m not playing around here. Whatever this is, if he wants to threaten us, he can threatenme.”
I turn to leave, anger pulsing through my veins. I don’t even know what he wants or what he thought he’d get out ofstalkingus like a fucking psychopath, but I will very quickly teach him that I’m the last person he wants to play this game with.
