Chapter Eleven Grow My Shame ~November~ #2
He turns his concerned look on me. “Do you really?”
“Yeah, I think I really do.” There’s no thinking to it, truly. Maybe if we were already married, the office betting pool wouldn’t have had a chance to even start. The woman trying to get me to leave maybe wouldn’t have even tried. All this heartache could have been avoided.
I look around the room at Joseph’s family, our mutual friends, and Jace—my only family—and I’m hit with guilt.
Would I really want to do this without all of them by our sides, cheering us on, congratulating us, supporting us every step of the way?
“No.” I turn to face Bash. “I wouldn’t want to do this without you…
” I motion haphazardly over my shoulder to the rest of the room. “…or them.”
His devilishly handsome smile is enough to know I’m right. “I would have been really mad at you if you’d run off. You deserve the big wedding.”
I don’t know about deserve, but I’m getting it whether I do or not. “Come on, let’s go see my husband-to-be.” Joseph needs a little reassurance that I don’t hate him.
Joseph
My girl curls into my side, and my chest nearly collapses into itself, tight with emotion.
She came to me, seeking my touch, my comfort.
Sebastian smiles at me, standing with her between us.
I don’t know what he said, but I’m thankful that whatever it was prompted this.
I smile and shake his hand. “We’ve missed you at happy hours. ”
He nods. “I got a suck-balls rotation this round. I’m trying to swap a few shifts to see if I can make it next week.”
“Maybe we could swap days, occasionally, to something that works for you. We’d at least get to see you a few times a month,” I suggest.
“That’d be great. Let’s see if I can make the next one, then we can discuss it with everyone.”
Samantha looks up and presses into me. She likes that suggestion, and that I’m working to fit her Bash into our tight-knit group.
But really, everyone loves Sebastian. He’s a great guy.
He cares for my girl—in a way I’m not threatened by—and he’s funny as shit with hysterical stories from his ER patients.
We’d do the same for anyone else in our group if they had a continual schedule conflict.
I steal a kiss and relish the fact that she doesn’t pull away from me.
It’s not long before my mother calls the two of us to take a seat in the chairs placed in front of the fireplace, facing the room filled with our guests. Shit. She’s gonna hate this. I squeeze her hand, letting her know she’s not in this alone—I’m right here beside her—not letting her go. Ever.
Fuck. Now I just want to take her to my old room upstairs and see if she’ll let me kiss and hold her some more. I don’t even care if we have sex—I just need to reconnect with my Sweets—feel her safe, secure, and at peace in my arms.
Fuck me running backwards with a dog in my arms, this is gonna be a long-ass night.
Margot kneels beside Samantha, writing down each gift and who it came from.
I guess that’s the job of the maid of honor?
Or maybe it’s just a best friends thing.
My brothers take turns handing us gifts that Mom has stashed in some other room, hence why we didn’t know there were gifts—even though we agreed there wouldn’t be any.
Samantha and I take turns reading the cards, telling Margot and the room whom it’s from, and opening the gift.
To my complete and total shock, we have a china pattern and thus far, we’ve received twenty-four complete place settings.
Who the hell needs twenty-four place settings of china?
We can’t even seat twenty-four people in our penthouse.
We can seat sixteen at our dining room table and four at the breakfast bar.
I guess four lone diners could sit on the couches or eat at the coffee table.
Huh, maybe we do need twenty-four. Who’d have thunk it?
Fin, being the ass he is, even though we have a completely good coffeemaker, bought us the exact same contraption he has.
Great, now I’ll have to get a second degree just to run the damn thing.
Samantha, on the other hand, is ecstatic, jumping up to hug Fin so fast she nearly trips over the monstrosity.
Christ, that thing is ugly. I wonder if it does dishes?
I’m so busy giving Fin a hard time, I miss what the next gift is or who it’s from. I simply hear a gasp from beside me, and when I look to Samantha, she’s turned as white as her sexy bride-ish looking blouse. “What—”
She slams the box shut, clutching it to her chest like it’s a bomb about to go off, protecting everyone as she nearly hurdles over any obstacles or guests in her way.
She runs out of the room—and I mean runs—flat out, as fast as she can, fifty-yard-sprint kind of run.
I catch sight of Michael’s back as he rounds the corner and barrels up the stairs after her.
Without a second thought for our guests or any explanation as to what happened, I bound up the stairs behind them in time to see Samantha slam the bathroom door shut.
Michael skids to a halt as he grabs the doorknob, only to find it locked.
He looks at me solemnly, glancing over my shoulder. “Let me know if you want me to break it down.” He pats my shoulder as he passes. “I’ll keep everyone away.” He stops at the top of the stairs, blocking Fin, Jace, and I don’t know who else from coming up.
Ignoring them, I turn to the door, checking again to be sure it’s really locked. It is.
I press my forehead to the cool surface. “Samantha, please let me in. Let me see what’s in the box. We’re a team. Remember?”
In response, all I hear are her soft sobs. Fuck. “Please, baby, let me in.”
The sound of running water fills my ears, muting any other noises.
She must have turned on the faucet. I press my ear to the door, closing my eyes to concentrate on what’s happening on the other side.
A deep, muffled voice fills the void, but I can’t make anything out.
Then it’s gone, only to come back a few seconds later.
Another sob, loud enough to breach the water barrier she’s erected.
Then the deep voice again. A loud clang has me pulling away momentarily before I catch myself and resume my listening stance.
Only this time, over the din of the water, I hear the worst sound imaginable—the sound that sends me back to that day I told her I slept with someone else—the sound that fills me with so much regret and helplessness—the sound of the woman I love retching.
I look to Michael. “I have to get in there.”
With a quick nod, he’s by my side. He stills and listens. “Is she—”
“Yes.” Fuck. Yes, that’s the sound of my girl vomiting over whatever is in that goddamned box. “I have to get to her, Michael. Now.”
I move aside, giving him room as he prepares to kick the door in.
“Stop!” Fin elbows his way past William, who took Michael’s place as guard. “Did it even cross your mind to pick the lock? Aren’t you the ex-FBI-military-extraordinaire?”
Michael pats his pockets. “Didn’t come prepared to pick locks at a wedding shower.”
“Then it’s a good thing one of us is prepared.” Fin hands me the master key.
I move to insert the metal key into the hole to pop the lock, but stop. “Fin, I need you to stay back.”
He looks offended but nods and steps back.
“Michael, I need you to get that fucking package and ensure no one sees it.”
“On it.”
That’s all the confirmation I need. I pop the lock, push the door so hard it bangs against the wall and hits me on the rebound, but I move on, not letting it slow me down.
Samantha is slumped over the toilet, still throwing up.
I glance at the open box lying on the floor and get a glimpse of a video and the sound of my voice coming from inside the box. Motherfucker!
Michael picks up the box. I turn my attention back to my girl and block everything else out, knowing he’ll take care of it.
I kneel beside her, gather her hair in my hands, relieving her of her valiant attempt at keeping it out of her way. I hold it with one hand and gently pat her back. “It’s okay, Samantha, I’ve got you.”
She vomits again and again.
Her body finally gives out—gives up—and I’m able to get her cleaned up and tucked against my chest on my old bed, in my bedroom.
The one I wanted to bring her to earlier, under totally different circumstances.
She’s cried herself out and has fallen asleep.
I text Michael and ask him to send Sebastian to meet me in my room.
With a soft knock, the door opens and Sebastian peers in. I motion him forward. He quietly closes the door behind him and walks silently to my side of the bed. His eyes rove over Samantha.
“I need you to watch her. Stay with her. I need to step across the hall, and I don’t want her alone if she wakes up while I’m gone. Can you do that?” I ask, knowing he would never say no.
“Of course. Is she sick?” His concerned doctor eyes study her face.
I slowly extricate myself from her grasp.
She moans and frowns in response but doesn’t wake up.
I move us away from the bed and quietly explain.
“We’ve been getting disturbing mail. I don’t know what was in the box she opened, but it was enough to upset her to the point of making her sick.
” I look at her resting peacefully on the bed.
“If she wakes up, call for me.” I move to the door, not giving him a chance to ask questions. “I’ll only be across the hall.”
I step into the adjacent room, not surprised to see Fin and Michael standing there arguing. Once I get the door closed, Fin is all over me. “What the fuck is going on?”
I hold up my hand. “Fin, I need to talk to Michael, alone.”
He flinches as if I slapped him. It’s not like me to keep secrets from Fin. “I can help.”
On a sigh, I sit on the bed. “I know you can. And you will, but right now, I need you downstairs getting rid of all these people. Tell them Samantha is sick, thank them for coming, smooth over ruffled feathers, and get them the fuck out of the house. I’m gonna take Samantha home soon, and I’d rather not have to carry her through a house full of guests. ”
“And then we’ll talk?” he confirms.
“And then we’ll talk. Tomorrow.”
He wants to protest. I can see it in the tension of his body and the bite in his jaw, but he simply nods. “Tomorrow, brother.”
“Tomorrow.” I stand and hug him, fighting to keep my emotions in check. “Thank you, brother.”
As soon as Fin leaves, I turn to Michael. “Show me.”
He hands me a note.
Why haven’t you left yet?
Is this not proof enough?
You’ll never be able to satisfy my Joseph, not the way I can.
Sincerely,
Joseph’s cock riding baby
Rage courses through my body, and my fists clench, needing to hit something—someone. Michael grips my hand, forcing me to release the note before pushing me down on the bed. “If you think that’s bad, you’re really gonna hate the video.”
“Michael.” I don’t even have the words.
He grips my shoulder. “We’re gonna find this motherfucker, and when we do, we’re gonna take them down, rip them apart limb from limb. Whatever it takes.”
“Show me.”
Sitting beside me, he pulls out an old iPhone. There’s a still of me on the screen. He hits play.
I come alive on the screen. My eyes are closed, and from the movements, it’s obvious I’m having sex with the woman taking the video.
“That’s right, baby. Make it feel good.” My voice echoes in my ears—so familiar.
The me in the video moans and thrusts in time with the woman who’s moaning too.
Then I open my eyes, staring into the camera with pure pleasure on my face. “I’m coming, baby.”
The video ends.
Fuck me and my life.
I stand abruptly. “I need to get Samantha home.”
“I’ll have William pull the car around back. We can go down the back stairs and through the garage.”
“Fine. Let me know when we’re ready.” I open the door and stop. “Michael, I’d like you to move into the penthouse. I know that’s a hardship, but I’d feel better having you close.”
“Not a problem, brother,” he says with conviction, and he means it. He’d die for Sam.
It had better not come to that.
“Thank you, brother.”
I slip across the hall to collect my girl and take her home. Tomorrow we will face this shitstorm together, but tonight I need to hold her, comfort her, and love her in any way she will let me.