8. Riley #3
Graham took a step toward the bay, then stopped when Maisie held her ground. “She’s my wife, and I just need a single minute to speak to her.”
The word wife landed strangely after months of silence.
Riley kept her attention on Graham.
He had used that title when it cost him nothing. Wife at sponsor dinners. Wife when security needed to know who belonged on a credential list. Wife whenever someone else mentioned her first.
Now he said it while standing outside the life she had built without him.
Wade folded his arms. “I’m Wade.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It answers the part that matters.”
Graham narrowed his eyes. “How long have you known her?”
“Long enough to know she can answer for herself.”
Maisie made a small sound that might have been a laugh.
Riley gave her a look, and Maisie pressed her lips together.
Graham turned back toward Riley. “Is this who you’ve been living with?”
“No,” Riley said.
Wade glanced at her, then at Graham. “You’re asking the wrong guy a lot of questions.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“Then stop looking at me like I owe you an explanation.”
For the first time since stepping out of the car, Graham had nothing ready to say.
That silence told Riley more than another accusation would have.
Wade had never touched her without permission. Never decided what she needed before asking. Never treated his presence as a claim on her. He worked beside her, handed over tools when she asked, and went back to his own station when she wanted space.
Graham stared at him as if those ordinary privileges were impossible luxuries.
Wade nodded toward the car. “I’m just a guy trying to get his loading zone back.”
Graham looked at Riley again.
Wade kept his place beside her, his voice unchanged. “Whether she talks to you is her own business, but right now, she’s on company time.”
Riley let Wade’s last sentence settle. Maisie still stood in front of her with her arms crossed, ready to fire another shot the second Graham opened his mouth.
Riley reached out and touched her shoulder.
“I’ve got it.”
Maisie glanced back. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
For once, the teenager didn’t argue. She shifted aside, though not far, letting Riley pass. Wade shifted with her, then stopped when Riley gave him a small look.
“We’ll be inside,” he said.
“Thanks.”
That was what support looked like here. Nobody grabbed her elbow. Nobody decided where she belonged. Nobody shoved her behind a rope because somebody else photographed better.
Riley stepped forward until there was nothing between her and Graham except the open edge of the bay.
The papers still hung from his hand. Their corners had folded during the drive, and one page had creased beneath his thumb. He looked nothing like the captain who used to stand under television lights and answer questions with a sponsor logo behind his shoulders.
It did not matter.
“Wade and Maisie aren’t wrong, Graham. The retail storefront is around the front of the building if you want to browse. Otherwise, this is an active shop floor.” She pointed toward the car without looking away from him. “Move it so I can get back to work.”
His expression changed.
“Riley, wait.”
“I’ve waited enough.”
He stepped forward. Maisie shifted behind her, but Riley raised a hand.
Graham stopped again.
“I made a massive mistake.” His voice scraped on the words. “I know that now, okay? Just—please don’t walk away. Give me a single second to have a real conversation.”
A real conversation.
The phrase dragged her straight back to the hotel suite.
She had stood in front of him and asked for exactly that. No cameras. No handlers. No Nicolle. Five minutes with her husband before he disappeared into another sponsor dinner.
He had checked his watch.
Then he had kissed her cheek and walked out.
Riley looked at the man in front of her now and found no satisfaction in the reversal. Months ago, she would have given anything for this version of him to stop moving long enough to listen.
Now his timing was worthless.
“You had your conversation.”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“That night at the hotel. I asked you to stay.”
“Riley, I didn’t understand what was happening.”
“I told you what was happening.”
“I thought we had time to fix it.”
“You always thought there would be more time.”
He looked down at the petition, then back at her. “I know I failed you.”
The words should have mattered more.
Maybe once they would have.
Riley turned toward the shop.
“Please don’t do this.”
She kept walking.
“That conversation belonged in the hotel,” she said. “You missed your window.”
“Riley, please!”
His voice followed her across the threshold.
The machinery swallowed most of it once she stepped inside. Wade moved away from the door and gave her room. Maisie stayed near the stool, watching her without speaking.
Riley reached for the metal handle.
For one moment, Graham remained visible through the opening, standing in the Georgia heat with the petition in his hand and the car behind him.
Months ago, she had watched a hotel door close after he chose everything else.
This time, she chose.
The metal door slammed shut between them.