Chapter 67 Done Done
done done
Lorien
The next few days are tenuous. Tenuous and stressful.
Two nights later, I consider baking as a way to relieve my stress and to offer my husband something as a reprieve, but ultimately, he’s so edgy I can’t even do that.
Poe has taken up residence on his chest, constantly rubbing her ears against his chin or fingers.
She’s a menace, but he’s smitten, even if he won’t admit it.
She survived. Just like he did. Him saving her has made her eternally his, and him hers.
She still hisses at me if I get close, but she doesn’t stop purring when I snuggle in, so there’s that.
His dad—though he loathes when I call him that—will soon go to trial.
Discovery is nearly done and the evidence is overwhelming.
We decided that my little adventure with him would go unmentioned.
For one, I don’t want any connection to Briggs Barnett or Roger Briggs, whatever he called himself.
It damns us as much as it damns Seamus, and we’re not interested in that.
If we need it, though, it’s in our back pocket.
Liam’s involvement with the thing that went down with Cian is also not front and center. That’s a whole other story, but, needless to say, we’re pretending for all the legal world to see that Seamus was terrible to Liam’s brother and sister while being completely dismissive to my husband.
Nothing could be further from the truth, but murder for hire with a dead assassin raises more questions than answers.
Liam’s told me to put it out of my mind. To not ask questions. And for once, my inquisitive brain is okay with that request.
My brain, it turns out, is entirely focused on how to make the auto-immune research come to pass.
I can’t admit I stole the data. I can’t get into the folder on the server that held it before.
The team in topicals has restricted access to that, so my current assignment prevents visibility to what I most want to know.
The Barones and the Murphys haven’t made a play yet for control, but a board meeting in early October should lay out the plans. In the meantime, I work with my team, getting knowing nods occasionally from the security team who learned from Liam of the bomb threat against PBP… and me.
We still don’t know why Troy Smith arranged for it. The breakup wasn’t really that bad. We dated, but it wasn’t serious. We weren’t compatible, and it wasn’t even like he fought for me when we parted ways. It wasn’t just amicable. It was… nothing.
My brain whirls as I pace. I have too much energy to sit still and too little focus to do much more.
Liam’s phone chimes at the same time as mine. He grabs his as I keep moving. Maybe I should cook dinner. Or sign up for a marathon. I’m not athletic. Like, at all, but this vibration inside my body needs an outlet.
“Come here, Wifey.” Liam opens an arm to me.
I sit next to him, daring a pet to Poe’s head. She allows it for two strokes before shaking me off and cleaning herself where I touched her.
“Rude.”
“So, that notification was from Sherman.”
“Okay?” I can feel the trepidation rise up. I don’t want to be on a first name basis with the family attorney. Let’s be real, I don’t want to have a family attorney.
“Your insurance company settled. Paid fifty thousand to each of the movers. It’s done.”
“Is it me or does that seem low?”
“It’s stupid actually, but because they accepted, they cannot pursue anything with you or me.”
“So it’s done done?”
“It’s done done.”
I scrunch my nose. I’m glad we’re not going to court. I’m thrilled that chapter is over. “That window wasn’t very big for us to fall in love, you know? If you’d held out even a little longer…” I let my words trail off wondering, as I stare toward the front door, if he had a do-over if he’d take it.
“Lorien?”
I turn my head back to him as he slides off the sofa, with an annoyed meow from Poe, and onto one knee.
He takes my left hand in both of his. “I want you to be my wife, and I want to be your husband. I want you to keep being my wife. And like hell I’ll ever be anything but your husband. Marry me? Again?”
Warmth hits the back of my nose as tears prickle my eyes. I nod. I choose him. He chooses me. What started as an arrangement with a list of rules is now the two of us building a life. “Yes.”
“Good.” He kisses my ring finger, just below where the ring rests.
I cup his face, scratching through his unruly beard, and kiss his lips.
He returns to the sofa, propping my hand on his firm thigh. “Now, when do you want to tell your family?”
I think for a minute. “Tomorrow. Today is for us. Well, the last few months have been for us, but not today. Wait. What does this mean with the owner and the nephew and all of that?”
“I don’t know, but we’re surrounded by security cameras. I’m not interested in owning a moving company, so I hope they give up. Owning a pharmaceutical company is enough.”
I laugh at that. “Oh, poor put-upon William Murphy, owning so many things and having so many assets it’s annoying.”
“I’ll show you assets.” He raises his eyebrows several times like an old Vaudevillian actor might.
“Did you leave your piercing in when you met my family?” I’m still so curious about all of it.
“I didn’t change who I am for them.” He lifts his hands and flexes his fingers. “These indicate more underneath, but we didn’t discuss them.”
“And no one said anything?”
“Did you think they would?”
I shrug. My mom doesn’t have much of a filter, and my dad’s old school. “I don’t know.”
“They probably expected a researcher or an academic for you. Your dad didn’t ask what I did. He asked if I loved you. That’s what he cared about.”
“Oh. And what did you say?” I’m fishing, and we both know it.
“I told him I couldn’t imagine a life without you, that you’re what I want and what I need. And that I’d lay down my life to protect you. I told him I’d love and serve you every day of your life.”
Oh.
“Your mom cried. Your dad did what he could not to, but I know he was affected. I told him my brother and sister here would take care of you, too, and that I would do the same for Sam and Strider.”
I’m trying to picture him taking care of Strider, who’s older, grayer, and more… brotherly. But the man found a way to, didn’t he? The stocks.
Swoon.
“I can’t believe you flew there. Flew. For the day and were back in time for my doctor’s appointment.”
He lifts a shoulder but says nothing more.
“Are you going to want a bachelor party?” I don’t know why the idea strikes me. Or why it scrapes at my insides.
“Not a bachelor, Wifey. Not mourning a life and hoping to have a little fun before a death. I’m exactly where I want to be. You going to take a girls’ trip or have some last second crazy thing?”
I shake my head. “I won’t argue with one of Ayla’s spa staycations but otherwise, no. What you see is what you get.”
“I like what I see,” he whispers to the room.
That’s good. Because it’s his. All of me is.
For as long as we both shall live.