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When did she make that decision?
Did she tell me?
Did she mention it and I simply can’t remember?
“I’ve requested to walk down the aisle with her versus Calen,” J.T. playfully adds. “Assuming there’s still going to be a wedding.”
“Fuck, I hope so.” Watching him slowly stroll inside is done in tandem with me asking, “Has she mentioned not wanting one?”
“Not to me.” His positioning in the room is at the foot of my bed. “But I haven’t exactly spoken to her much.”
“Why?”
“You mean aside from reporting to the other board members about the possibility of your shares decreasing, dealing with app development issues, delays in distribution, juggling multiple press events – alone – and Nightwinging my ass here to assist in your recovery?” J.T. shoves his tablet free hand into his pocket. “She hasn’t been answering me.” He doesn’t wait for me to counter with the obvious. “And I don’t mean normal Bryn not replying to a text because her cell has magically found a new home in a box of tampons or whatever. I mean phone turned completely off level of not speaking.”
It's impossible to ignore the tightness in my chest increasing.
“She’s also distanced herself from Hill after informing him his services for her wellbeing were no longer required.”
Shit.
Is there going to be a wedding?
Do I even still have a fiancée?
The other half of my heart?
My soul?
“Hill, however, has been maintaining a casual visual on her whereabouts at all times to ensure her safety continues per Park’s orders. Given that Hill is employed by the personal security department of the Wilcox Estate, the only people who can ‘relieve him of his duty’ are the head of security – Park – the ‘face’ of the company – me – and those that legally bear the last name Wilcox, which she technically doesn’t yet.”
“A technicality?” Another grin threatens my face. “You think a bullshit technicality is going to save you from The Wrath of Khan?”
“I think she’ll appreciate the effort.”
“She won’t.”
“I know,” my right hand instantly caves, entire body sulking forward, “but I need to know she’s okay. I need to know our Uhura is okay.”
Silence momentarily slithers itself along my spine stirring up vomit in the process. “…is she?” I force myself to swallow the expanding lump back down. “Is she okay?”
“Physically?” He tosses the tablet on the bed beside my thigh. “From what Hill’s mentioned she seems fine. No lingering cognitive issues. No developing pregnancy problems. And her single overnight trip for work, did not have her on or near the water.”
That’s gotta be driving my little prey insane.
“Emotionally?” An uncomfortable cringe is shot. “All Calen says is that she’s moody.” J.T. leans his side against the furniture. “He doesn’t know if it’s from lack of beer or lack of pizza or lack of the Batarang.”
“Do not call my dick the Batarang.”
“Come on, dude, that’s like a perfect nickname!”
Whether it’s hearing his mirth or simply hearing news on the woman I love that gets me smiling is unknown.
It also doesn’t matter.
Feeling something other than disgust and spite is welcomed.
“He planned them a beach date to see if it would help.”
