Chapter 29 #2
“Apparently, we need to get separate duvets now. It’ll likely save our marriage.
And a joint calendar, which you know I’d love to take charge of.
You’re not allowed to text me during unresolved arguments.
When you are being unbearable, I need to send you to your room, throw food at you, and shut the door.
Even your mom recommended that. By the way, she thinks you were lucky to find me.
You should remember that. And lastly, we need to pack lube and a first aid kit for the honeymoon.
” She frowns. “Except maybe not, since I got my period.”
My lips curve, amused. “So, I can’t text during an argument, but you can text me?”
She shrugs, looking smug. “I guess so.”
“And when you’re being unreasonable? I send you to your room?”
“Nothing was said about that. Besides, when am I ever unreasonable?”
Fuck I love her.
I brush my mouth over hers. “Princess, there’s no fucking way we’re getting separate duvets.
You can remove that idea from your head.
Feel free to take charge of the joint calendar.
It’ll fucking save me arguing with Lucy over shit.
As for us arguing, I won’t bother with texting if I’ve got something to say.
I’ll track you down and you won’t be leaving my sight until we sort it out.
” I bring my hand up and wrap it loosely around her throat, over her collar.
“And I’ll still be eye-fucking your tits when I’m ninety. So get used to it.”
She fists my vest, her eyes darkening. “You better be. Because I plan on being your favorite problem until we die.”
Then she drags me down for a kiss that damn near shoots my restraint to shit.
“And I might even start flashing you every now and then,” she promises with a teasing glint. “You know, just to reward your commitment.”
My thumb rubs over her collar. “You flash me now and we’re not making it to the reception.”
She laughs, and it’s the easy kind of laugh that I only ever get from her. The one that says she feels safe and loved. “Don’t tempt me. You know I live to derail your plans.”
“You married a man who builds new plans in seconds, Princess. Try me.”
She just smiles at me. Then, wrinkles her nose. “Do we have to go?”
I know she doesn’t really mean that, but fuck, I love that she feels it too.
“You’re the one who said we had to give everyone the show, sweetheart.”
“Ugh. I hate that you have such a good memory,” she says before stepping out of my embrace and glancing around the room, looking for something.
A moment later, she’s got tissues and is cleaning the lipstick off our faces. She then digs through the makeup bag Lucy put together for her and finds the exact lipstick shade she wore today—because my assistant is good at her job—and carefully reapplies it.
I watch her touch up her makeup, fix her hair, and smooth down her dress.
“There,” she says finally. “That’s better.”
“Shame.”
She shakes her head at me, but she’s smiling. “Gage—”
“I preferred the other version.” The thoroughly kissed and marked up version.
Now she rolls her eyes. But she doesn’t respond to that. Instead, she glances down at herself, at her dress, and starts fishing around in it.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for something.” Her hand disappears further into her dress, and I’m trying very hard not to get distracted by the logistics of what’s happening right now.
“In your bra?”
“I put it there before the ceremony.” She’s digging around with increasing urgency now, checking the other side. “I know I put it there.”
“Amelia, what exactly are you looking for?”
She stops. Looks up at me. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t have a tampon.”
I’m thrown back to Ethan’s wedding. The night I found Amelia walking like she was in a heist movie. The night that changed my entire life.
And all I can do is laugh.
Her eyes widen. “You’re laughing at me?”
I pull her in and silence her with a quick kiss. “I’m going to be carrying tampons around with me for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”
“Only if you want to keep getting laid, husband.” She pats my chest before deadpanning, “Welcome to marriage, babe. You’re now my emergency contact and my period caddy.”
“You say that like it’s not the best promotion I’ve ever gotten.” I brush a kiss to her temple. “Are they in the bathroom? Or do I need to go hunting for them?”
She gives me directions and I leave her in the tent to head back to the house. I’m halfway there when I run into Hayden who’s cutting across the lawn from the direction of the main house.
He eyes me. “Where’s Amelia?”
“In the tent. I’m just grabbing something for her.”
He nods, then comes to a stop and says, “When were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re already married.”
There’s no heat in it. Just that razor-sharp Hayden tone that means he’s already figured everything out.
I arch a brow. “How’d you know?”
He gives me a dry look. “I ran into Brett last week.”
My lawyer.
“He said something about you refusing to let your attorneys do their job,” he continues. “It wasn’t hard for me to piece it together with everything else I’d observed between you and Amelia.”
I exhale hard through my nose because I know what’s coming and I’m not interested in getting into it with him.
He mutters something under his breath, then adds louder, “You and Bradford. You’re both fucking idiots. But at least he signed a postnup.”
I could explain it to him. The reason I don’t have a prenup. The logic. The trust. The fact that Amelia would never take anything from me that I didn’t offer first. But that’s not the point. Not even fucking close. Instead, I give him the truth.
“She could take everything I have and leave me with nothing but debt and ruin, and I’d still consider it a fair trade for her loving me.”
“You think I don’t get that?” His jaw ticks. “I get it. I’ve just seen too many people say exactly that and live to regret it.” He pauses. “Fairytales don’t fucking exist, Gage. You know that. And fuck . . . I don’t want to see you hurt like that.”
Hayden’s always been like this. The protector. The cleaner. The one who sees disasters coming and tries to stop them before they hit. He’s built walls around all of us to keep us safe from shit. He’s stepped in when we’ve fucked up. I love him for it. But this time, he’s wrong.
“I know you’re trying to protect me. You always do. And I appreciate you looking out for me. But you’re wrong about her.”
“I’m not saying she’s going to screw you over.
Hell, I think she’s perfect for you.” He looks frustrated.
“I’m saying you’re both human. Things happen.
You could fuck it up. She could. Life throws shit at people that tears them apart even when they love each other.
” He releases a breath. “Legal safeguards aren’t about trust. They’re about protecting both of you from the shit you don’t see coming. ”
“You’re right. About all of it,” I say as I move past him. “And when you fall in love with someone who makes you stop thinking like a lawyer and start thinking like a man who’d burn it all down just to keep her, you’ll understand why I don’t give a fuck.”