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“Someone was just here asking when you would be in.” He looks from me to Fynn. “I think it was a server for the courts.”
“That was fast.” Fynn doesn’t sound surprised as he keeps moving, leading me into his office. “I expected it to take her a few days to come up with a list of offenses.”
I glance back at Brian and find him following right behind us. He’s got a notepad in his hands and I wonder if it’s the list of things Fynn has going on today or the list of things he’s stressing out over.
Actually, those are probably the same thing.
I get it. As someone who obsessed over what other people thought of me I understand how being anxious can become a way of life.
But it’s fucking soul sucking and leaves you faced with two options. You either tell everyone to go fuck themselves or live your life according to someone else’s opinions. I’m learning to do the former, so maybe I can drag Brian along with me.
“You’ve got a nine o’clock telephone conference with Rogers about the deal on the place in Cape Coral.” Brian sits down in the chair across from Fynn’s desk as he continues laying out the day, rattling off a collection of meetings to be had and emails that need to be sent. His words die off and he looks my way again. “Plus a court clerk showing up in there somewhere.” I don’t miss the shady hint in his tone and while I get it, I’m still irritated.
But I’m not the only one, because my husband straightens, one brow lifting as he stares the other man down. “I’m sure you’re not insinuating anything about my wife.”
Brian shifts in his seat a little, but doesn’t back down. “Do I need to insinuate that her interaction with Jessica is going to cause problems? Because that seems to be factual at this point.”
Okay… Maybe Brian and I aren’t as similar as I first thought. He seems totally cool with standing up for himself and his thoughts, so maybe high-strung is just his natural state.
Or preferred state.
“What is factual is that Jessica came here with ill intent.” Fynn steps between me and Brian, as if he can protect me from his assistant’s opinion. “The feed from the security camera will show she was the one who attempted to make the confrontation physical first.” His big body blocks my view of Brian, so I can’t see his reaction, but I’m hoping he’s been knocked down a peg. “The audio for it will also include her admission to slandering me out of spite and anger, so I’m sure my attorney’s response to whatever claim she’s filed will shut it down immediately.”
I close my eyes, wishing I could bask in Fynn’s defense of me a little more. I can’t though because, once again, I’m making his life difficult. At this point I think I’ve caused more problems than I’ve fixed.
Actually, I’m sure of it.
“Now.” Fynn’s hand comes back to curve against my hip. “If you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”
He’s been using words like us and we all morning as we went about all our newlywed based errands. Making us out to be a team to everyone from the woman at the license bureau to the guy at the social security office. And while I don’t mind being on Fynn’s team, it sure seems like he’s doing most of the heavy lifting.
I swallow hard as Brian’s feet shuffle across the floor and the door clicks closed behind him.
Fynn drops down into the chair behind his desk, dragging me into his lap. “Have I thanked you properly for getting Jessica to admit her nefarious plan?”
I frown at him. “Considering you’re now being sued because of it, I’d say no thanks are necessary.”
“Ah, but the lawsuit is the best part.” He pulls me closer, tucking my body tighter to his, looking unbothered by this new development. “Because now I get to tell the world exactly what she did with my beautiful, adoring wife at my side.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
FYNN
"IT'S JUST COMING out." I wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear as I carefully remove the baking dish from the oven, carrying it to the island. I settle it onto the surface and assess my handywork. "It looks right."
"I'm sure it's absolutely perfect." My mother has complete faith in my ability to re-create one of my most beloved childhood dishes, though I'm not sure it’s well-founded. "You'll have to call me later and tell me what she thought of it." Her voice sounds a little weaker today than normal, and it has me worried she's overdoing it.
Again.
"I'll be sure to do that, if you promise to go rest."
By all accounts she's doing well, but she's in a position where the treatment can be just as dangerous as the illness itself, and while I understand her workaholic tendencies—I share them—I would prefer she do whatever it takes to ensure she remains earth side quite a bit longer.
And I'm not above playing dirty to ensure that happens.
"You should get as much rest as you can now, because once Valerie and I decide to have children, we plan on sending them to your house every day."
My mother's laugh is gleeful even if it is also a little hoarse. "Is this your way of trying to tell me something?"
