Cian: I heard the whine in your voicefrom here.
Ayla: Sorry. Not Sorry.
Christian: Good luck, Liam. Keep us posted.
Ayla: Look at you two getting along.
Sariah: Wait. What did I miss?
Cian: I’ll tell you in bed.
Sariah: On my way.
Ayla: No. No. No. La la la.
I literally said I’d keep them posted and all this started. Head down, I nearly bump into another staffer as I watch the back and forth of my family play out before me. “Sorry.”
Pushing open the door, Lorien stops what appears to be her sneaking across the room. She’s frozen like a deer in headlights.
“You know I can see you, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Nothing moves but her lips.
“What are you doing?”
She looks around. I swear the woman is searching her room to find an excuse or a lie.
I level her with my gaze and take two steps closer. “Lorien.” My tone brooks no argument.
Her chin tilts toward the bathroom and back to me, her face scrunching.
Ah, I see. “Come on then.”
“No.”
“Woman.” It’s damn near a growl, but I tame it just enough.
Her head tilts, and she stares at me. “Fine, but only because I’m not interested in breaking something.”
Why would she break anything?
Boot propped up on the wall near the bathroom door, I check my phone. No more messages.
Good. My family can be too chatty. And while it’s entertaining as fuck, it’s usually so because it’s someone else’s problem. When it’s mine… Well, what goes around comes around, and fuck if it’s not coming around like a cyclone.
“Cheesecake.” The word seems to be meant as an expletive.
Before I can wonder how I, of all people, married a woman who curses with dessert phrases, I ask, “Is everything okay in there?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Silence.
Fuck it. This is ridiculous. “I’m coming in.”
“No,” she cries, quick and urgent.
