Chapter 26 – Lance #2
Only if she doesn't want to be there, I thought, but kept my mouth shut. Some thoughts were better kept to myself.
"But he's hot," Amber pointed out reasonably.
"And rich," Gwen added.
"And he worships the ground she walks on... also he has a big dick," Morgan chimed in, getting more animated. "He literally reorganizes his entire life around making her happy."
I paused in my beading, a smile tugging at my lips. Was that how she saw what I did for her? The way I'd restructured my entire existence around her needs, her schedule, her happiness?
"See, this is what I'm talking about," Micah groaned. "You're all enabling each other's problematic taste in men."
"Says the man who spent three hours last week explaining why the alien love interest in his sci-fi romance was actually quite reasonable," Devon pointed out.
"Zorathian mating bonds are completely different?—"
"Are they though?" Amber interrupted. "Because from what you described, once he 'claims' her, she literally can't survive without him. That's not toxic at all."
I found myself genuinely enjoying this ridiculous conversation as I worked. The careful precision required for the beadwork was oddly soothing, and watching Morgan relax for the first time in weeks was better than any entertainment.
"The difference," Micah said loftily, "is that Zorathian bonds are biological . They can't help it. These contemporary romance heroes choose to be controlling psychopaths."
"But that's what makes it romantic," Morgan argued, her eyes bright with wine and laughter. "The fact that they could choose anyone, could do anything, but they choose to focus all that intensity on one person. It's devotion."
Something dark and possessive stirred in my chest at her words. Because that's exactly what I'd done—chosen her above everything else, reorganized my entire world around keeping her safe and happy. And she saw it as devotion, not control.
"It's still problematic," Micah insisted. "What kind of message does that send to young women? That love means giving up your autonomy?"
"Nobody's giving up autonomy," Gwen said firmly. "The heroines in these books are strong women who make their own choices. They choose to be with these men."
"After being manipulated and coerced?—"
"After being pursued and cherished," Amber corrected. "There's a difference."
I glanced up to find Morgan watching me work, her expression soft. When our eyes met, she mouthed "thank you," and heat flooded my veins. Not just warmth—actual heat. The kind that made me want to clear everyone out of here and show her exactly how much her gratitude affected me.
This was what she'd needed. Not just the break from work, but the connection with her friends, the laughter, the normalcy of their ridiculous debates.
"Okay, but can we at least agree," Devon said, "that some of these heroes cross the line from devoted to deranged?"
"But isn't that how we like them?" Amber asked, cackling.
"See, this is why I stick to sci-fi," Micah declared. "Aliens are way more reasonable than human men."
"Says the man who's currently single," Amber pointed out with a grin.
"By choice!"
Their laughter filled the studio, and I watched Morgan's shoulders fully relax for the first time in days. The stress lines around her eyes had softened, and she was gesturing animatedly as she talked, completely engaged with her friends.
This was my wife in her element—brilliant, passionate, surrounded by people who loved her. Even when she was stressed about work, even when she forgot to eat, even when she worked herself to exhaustion, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"Lance," Amber's voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to find her watching me with knowing eyes. "How's the beading coming?"
"Better than expected," I said, holding up the section I'd completed. "Morgan's a good teacher."
"He's very precise," Morgan said proudly, coming over to inspect my work. Her hand settled on my shoulder, thumb tracing absent patterns that made me want to drag her home and show her exactly how much I appreciated her praise.
The scent of her skin—warm and sweet with a hint of that perfume I'd bought her—made my mouth water. I had to clench my jaw to keep from turning my head and pressing my lips to her wrist.
"It's perfect," she said softly, and I could hear the surprise in her voice. "You're actually really good at this."
"I'm good with my hands," I said innocently, earning a snort of laughter from Micah and a blush from Morgan.
The flush that crept up her neck made me want to see how far it spread. Made me want to strip her out of those clothes and map every inch of heated skin with my tongue.
"Okay, that's enough innuendo for one day," Gwen announced, standing with Ava. "I should get this little one home for her nap."
The group began to disperse, everyone hugging Morgan goodbye and making her promise to take breaks and eat actual meals. I watched her face as they left, saw the way she seemed to physically deflate as the social energy drained away.
But as Gwen reached the door, she paused, turning back to catch my eye. Her expression was serious, all traces of earlier lightness gone.
"Lance," she said quietly, her voice carrying an undercurrent I couldn't quite read. "I need to talk to you both. Soon."
Something cold settled in my stomach. "About what?"
Her gaze flicked to Morgan, then back to me. "The data from the servers. I found something." She shifted Ava higher in her arms, the baby making soft sounds in her sleep. " We need to meet tomorrow."
"Gwen—" I started, but she was already heading for the door.
"Tomorrow," she repeated firmly. "All of us."