Chapter 33
DRED
I’ve just changed into something that isn’t covered in my cum and Connor’s saliva when my phone pings with new messages.
I find it on the floor under the desk. My stomach lurches as Victor’s name appears several times.
I gave him and Everly my cell number when they started volunteering, so they could let me know if they would be late.
Obviously I gave them the green light to contact me if they ever needed anything, be that school- or life-related.
Their last message before today was me thanking them for their gift.
Cordelia told me they paid for it all on their own, which makes it even more special.
Victor
Are you at the library?
I think maybe your shift is already finished.
Everly is locked in the bathroom in the café down the street. She said she can’t come out, and I don’t know what to do.
Dred
I’m taking it Cordelia isn’t an option?
Victor
Not really. Everly already got in trouble once today, and she’ll be in even more trouble if I tell Cordelia. And I know she’ll be in trouble no matter what, but she’s really upset, and I just don’t know what else to do.
Dred
Got it. I’m texting Everly now.
Victor
Thank you.
Dred
We’ll get it worked out.
I switch to the private messages with Everly to start damage control.
Dred
Hey! Can you tell me what’s going on? Victor seems concerned.
The inchworm dots appear, and it takes a minute before a message finally comes through.
Everly
I got my period on the way home, and I had to stop at the café.
But it was a flood and my favorite jeans are ruined, and I can’t leave the bathroom because I don’t have anything to cover it up.
I did my laundry yesterday, but then I forgot to put it in the dryer and everything stinks and I can’t get another turn until tomorrow and I have no options and I will die of embarrassment if I have to leave the bathroom looking like a shark attacked my vagina.
Dred
I can be there in less than half an hour with a pair of pants. They won’t be a perfect fit, but they’ll be better than your current situation. Is there anything else you need?
Everly
Maybe tampons. The kind from the machine here suck. And they’re a dollar each.
Dred
On it. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.
I rush to my bedroom—most of my things have been moved to Connor’s room, but a few items remain. I grab a pair of jogging pants and a variety of feminine products and stuff them all in a bag.
Connor’s on the way up the stairs holding two plates of dessert as I’m on my way down.
His gorgeous brow furrows. “Where are you going?”
“I have a work emergency.” Not a complete lie.
“Why are they calling you now? You’re already bringing your work home with you and now this? It’s after eight. Tell them you can’t do it.”
“There’s no one else to handle it. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
He blocks me from descending. “I don’t want a wife who lies to me.”
“Well, that wasn’t in the contract, was it, Connor?” We had such a nice night—if one considers being bent over a desk and fucked until my legs gave out nice, which I do—and now here I am, running out on him.
“A lot of things weren’t in the contract, Mildred,” he reminds me. Unfairly.
“You don’t get to be picky about the kind of wife I am.” Especially since I’m also the kind who tried to swallow his entire cock less than an hour ago.
I try to move around him, but he’s fast, and bigger than me, so he blocks my every move.
“You’re going to end up wearing that dessert in a moment, husband,” I warn.
He arches one dark, delicious eyebrow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, wife.”
I go with brutal honesty in the hope that it will ick him out. “Everly got her period. She’s locked in a bathroom at a café and doesn’t have a spare pair of pants. I’m bringing her some.”
“Why is she asking you for help and not the group home?”
“Because she’s somewhere she’s not supposed to be already, and she’s trying to avoid more trouble.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”
“Because it’s not your problem to solve.”
He raises his chin and looks down at me with assessing, arrogant eyes. “I’m your husband. You’re my wife. If you have a problem, I have a problem.”
I wish he wasn’t so hot when he’s being like this. “Well, right now you’re getting in the way of me solving a problem.”
“I will drive you.”
Arguing won’t get me anywhere. “Fine.”
“Good.”
“Really leaning into the villainy, aren’t you?” I snap and motion for him to lead the way.
“Oh, yes. It’s positively evil of me to pick up all your favorite things for dinner, make you come so many times your legs give out and you almost lose your voice, then surprise you with a special dessert in your private library, but change plans and offer to drive you to help teens in need solely because I want to spend time with you.
” He sets the cake on the side table and picks up my jacket.
“And it’s an unbelievable level of horridness that I want to make sure you’re warm since it’s getting cooler at night. ”
“Or maybe you’re just being a controlling psycho.” I slide my arms into the sleeves, and he frees my hair from under the collar.
“Oh, darling, let’s not kid ourselves. If anyone has control here, it’s you.” He kisses the edge of my jaw. “I would follow you anywhere, even into a burning building.”
I unsuccessfully try to ignore the way my heart flutters. “We should take the cake for Everly and Victor,” I suggest.
“I agree.”
“I can carry it.” I pick up both pieces and follow Connor out to his Rolls-Royce. He opens the door for me, takes the pieces of cake, and waits until I’m buckled in before he passes them back.
We’re out on the street, heading for the café before he asks, “Why didn’t you want to tell me where you were going?”
“Can we talk about this after we deal with the situation?” I get the sense if I tell him before, he’ll blow a gasket, and having him angry while dealing with two parentless teens—one who hates rules and the other who hates broken ones—will be a recipe for disaster.
“You’re keeping something from me.” It’s not a question.
“And you aren’t?” I throw back at him.
We’re both keeping plenty from each other. Whatever this was supposed to be has shifted in an irreversible way. I have feelings that don’t align with the contract, and owning those while I’m already on edge seems like a bad plan.
He’s silent for the rest of the drive, either stewing or brooding.
“I’ll be out with the twins in a few minutes,” I tell him when he stops at the curb in front of the café.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Everly is a fifteen-year-old girl who bled through her jeans and locked herself in a bathroom. You’re a high-profile pro hockey player and very interesting, especially since you’ve married a commoner. She’s crampy and bitchy and emotional and doesn’t need the extra attention.”
His nostrils flare.
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Please tone your broody down a few notches. These two have been through a lot, and they need gentleness. You’re welcome to reengage the furrow once we’re home.”
“I don’t like that you’re keeping me in the dark.”
“I don’t think you’ll like being in the light any better, but I’ll explain once this situation is dealt with and we’re on the way home.” I leave him in the car and enter the coffee shop.
Victor is standing by the bathroom, talking to a store manager. His expression shifts to relief the moment he sees me. “Dred, thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course.”
“Are you their guardian?” The manager gives me a doubtful look.
“Is that relevant?”
“That young woman has been in there for forty-five minutes!” He points to the bathroom door. “She’s not even supposed to be here! She routinely comes in and orders a black coffee and a day-old scone and refills her coffee cup three times.” He says it like it’s a criminal offense.
“Refills on coffee are free,” Victor says quietly. “It says so right on the sign above the drip coffee. And she didn’t come in here for coffee, she just came in to use the bathroom.”
“The bathroom is for paying customers! And she takes advantage of the policy.”
“Then maybe you should change your policy,” I say coldly. “And do you really think a teenage girl would lock herself in a gross public bathroom for forty-five minutes if she didn’t have a good reason?”
The bell above the door tinkles. I glance over my shoulder. Every single head turns as my husband enters. I try to see him as others do, and not as the man I’ve started sharing a bed and a life with.
He’s the picture of elegance, even in jeans. Dark peacoat, polished shoes, perfectly styled hair, and an air of arrogance that makes people take notice. He moves toward me, Victor, and the unhappy manager.
“I asked you to stay in the car,” I remind him.
“I never agreed to your order, Mrs. Grace.” He kisses my temple.
The manager’s eyes bug out. “Oh my God, you’re Connor Grace.”
“It seems that way.” He gives the manager a patient smile. “I believe we have a teenager in need locked in a bathroom. My wife is here to assist, and I’m happy to hand out some Terror swag for the minor inconvenience having me here might pose.”
Connor pulls a stack of hockey cards out of his breast pocket and a felt-tipped pen, leaving me open to deal with Everly.
Three minutes later, she’s dressed in a pair of ridiculously oversized joggers, I’m holding a bag of ruined jeans—she was not being overdramatic—and Connor signs his last trading card.
We troop out to his car, and Everly and Victor pile in the back.
“Where to now?” Connor asks jovially, his dark attitude tucked safely away for now.
I twist in the passenger seat. “Can either of you explain why we’re here and not Cordelia?” She’s the group home’s main point of contact for me.
Everly slouches in the seat and crosses her arms. “The manager banned me from the coffee shop, but it was the only place open with a bathroom, and obviously I needed one so I took my chances.”
Victor and I exchange a look.