Page 23 of All Tied Down

But I love it—and in the quiet of the morning, I give myself over to Garrett North, already knowing full well that I’ll be late to my meeting.

And so, so worth it.

Des’s expression is neutral as I jump on the video call, my father huffing as I make a show of turning the page in my notepad and smiling.

“Good morning.”

“You’re late.”

“I had the wrong Wi-Fi password so I needed to get that situated,” I say brightly as Des hides a smile behind a sip of coffee and my father blinks at his screen.

If my marriage wasn’t fake, I could tell my father I’m late because I’m a newlywed, but I can’t because I don’t need him knowing I’m fucking my temporary husband.

A lot.

And often.

“Fine,” he says, grumbling before launching into an hour’s worth of numbers, fires that have been put out since my marriage was leaked to the press, and a new opportunity for expanding our charitable giving.

When it’s over, my father excuses himself and exits the call, leaving Des and me to debrief.

“I’ll be in the office tomorrow, so make a list of everything you need me there for and push off what can wait. I’ll be answering emails in the car and then whatever I have to deal with when I get back.”

“You have the presentation at the end of next week.”

“Shit,” I mutter, clicking through the screens on my laptop. “I’ll stay at the apartment the night before at least—make sure there are no issues.”

“Like Wi-Fi,” he deadpans and I snort out a laugh. Des is normally serious, but every once in a while he’ll let his dry sense of humor out to play.

“Exactly like that.”

“Let me know if you need me to draw you up a workout or meal plan,” he says casually. “I know you’re usually invincible, but the added travel is going to be an adjustment and because you’re not here you’re going to try and work extra to compensate for it. I don’t want you to burn yourself out.”

I open my mouth to object but close it. Des has been with me for seven years and I’ve watched him go through various preparations for fitness competitions.

Gaining weight.

Cutting weight.

Unless there’s something happening at the office, he almost always brings a lunch, his containers stacked neatly in the fridge without fail.

“You know what? That would be great, thank you. Just make sure you keep in mind it’s me and I’m absolutely going to eat pizza and almost never drink enough water.”

“They’re guidelines—nothing to live and die by, but diet and exercise are usually the first things to be neglected when an environment is stressful.”

“I appreciate your concern, truly, and I’ll make sure that Garrett is on the same page so he can help with something other than the Wi-Fi.”

Des coughs into his fist, his eyes dancing with amusement. “On that note, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Text me if something comes up.”

“You got it.”

He disconnects the call before I release the breath I’ve been holding—the one that’s about more than just today and more than just normal stress. It’s days of trying to hold everything together with a smile.

As much as I’d love to talk to Tom’s wife about this, we’re not quite there yet which is unfortunate because she’s right next door.

But that leaves only one other person. Ignoring the reality that my circle is microscopically small, I type out a text and wait.