“Can we relax tonight and enjoy ourselves?” I ask.
Henry releases a heavy breath and resumes twirling my hair. “Relaxation, I can do,” he says, quietly enough that his words are for me alone.
By the time a waiter clears our dessert plates and wedding guests linger over coffee and wine, Henry’s attention has me the opposite of relaxed. I’m wound tight with anticipation. There was no break after leaving the wine cellar. He revved my engine, then left me to idle.
“Ready?” he asks.
His voice lights a fuse inside me. “So ready.”
Henry assists me to my feet, then his hand settles on my lower back. We make quick work of saying good night to the people at our table.
But when Henry heads directly for the doors afterward, I balk. “We have to talk to Dante and Noah first. And your parents.”
“Why?”
“To tell them we had a lovely evening, and we’ll see them tomorrow. To tell them we hope they have a good night,” I say.
He screws his eyes shut, then opens one. “They already know we’ll see them in the morning.”
“I know, but it’s polite.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and trudges belligerently toward where the two grooms are engaged in a lively conversation with my in-laws and Henry’s brother, Gabriel.
Dante lifts his chin in a quick bob of hello. “Whatever you two did, thank you.”
“It was my pleasure. Truly,” Henry says dryly. “Now then. I’m here to advise you: Enjoy the rest of your evening. I’ll be seeing you . . . tomorrow.”
“Why does that sound threatening?” Noah muses.
Because he said it like a mafia goon on purpose. How can other people not see how funny he is?
“It isn’t a threat. It’s a declaration.” Henry hesitates, then adds, “The two of you appear content. Is this accurate, or do I need to take other matters in hand?”
Noah shakes his head. “We’re wonderful. Nothing more than excited pre-wedding jitters.”
Henry assesses his flushed personal assistant, then turns on his heel and strides to a member of the staff working about ten feet away.
We watch as he speaks to the man quietly.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Henry’s dad, Arden, asks.
I shrug. “We’ll find out.”
“He hasn’t figured out yet that the world doesn’t need him to keep it spinning,” Gabriel says.
At my curious frown, Gabriel shrugs. “You have to admit, letting go of the reins isn’t easy for him.”
No it isn’t. Not even when he wants to.
When the staff member speaking with Henry nods, Henry pulls out his phone, raises the camera lens to his face and double-clicks.
Then he pockets the device, pivots, and returns to us before addressing Dante and Noah. “I’ve sent you two a year’s subscription to a guided meditation app. It’s clinically proven to reduce stress. I’ve also arranged for the staff to provide both of you with chamomile tea tonight and again in the morning.”
Without another word, he hooks an arm around my waist and guides me firmly toward the dining room door.
When I sputter a laugh, he grabs a handful of my ass. “No more polite socializing. I want my wife.”
6
