Page 124 of Safe Place

Then she turns and walks toward the elevator, shoulders straight, chin high—like she’s holding herself together with everything she’s got.

As soon as Poppy’s gone, Sophie looks up to me. “Wyatt’s an asshole,” she says quietly. “Sorry, I know he’s your friend, but he really hurt her.”

I nod once. “Let’s not let this ruin our day.”

Because that’s all I can say. If only she knew—Wyatt’s not showing off. He’s not trying to twist the knife. He’s doing what he always does: protecting the people he loves, even if it makes him look like the bad guy.

I glance down at Sophie, still standing close to me, her fingers linked with mine like they’ve always belonged there. She smiles up at me, with warm eyes, and I lean down a little more.

“I was hoping for a post-wedding hours long sex marathon tonight. Six hours. No interruptions. You. Me. One very patient headboard.” I whisper to her.

Her face turns bright red and she buries her head into my arm. “Micah!”

I don't think I'll ever get tired of that. The way she does this—hides herself into me like I'm the safest place she knows. I can’t get over the fact that she's really mine.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

“You’re so inappropriate when you breathe.”

“I’m your husband. You’re stuck with me now.”

We’re interrupted by Luke strolling over with his trademark smirk. “Hello, sister,” he says to Sophie, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Glad to finally meet the girl who managed to get my stubborn baby brother to settle down.”

Sophie laughs. “Thank you for everything, Luke. I’ve really been wanting to meet you. I know what you did with the Evergreen Scholarship. I won’t be needing it anymore, but I haven’t forgotten. I really owe you.”

Luke raises a brow. “You don't owe me anything. We’ll be in touch, though. Now that what’s Micah’s is also yours.” He gives her a wink.

I mutter, “Cheap ass.”

“You know what they say—The butterfly always finds the nest,” is all Luke says before walking off.

“What does that mean?” she asks me. “I’ve never heard that expression before. Do butterflies build nests?”

“Trust me—don’t try to understand,” I tell her. “Eventually, you’ll learn to ignore it.”

She then leans into me, her voice low. “Hey, by the way, does Wyatt drink much?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Maybe a beer every now and then, but he’s not big on it.”

She nods slowly, her eyes drifting toward Kate. “That’s what I thought.”

I glance at her. “Why?”

She hesitates for half a second, then says even quieter, “When Kate hugged me earlier, I caught a trace of something. Just a hint. I don’t think anyone else would’ve noticed it—but I’m pretty sure it was alcohol.”

I frown. “There’s no alcohol here.”

“I know,” she says. “That’s why it stood out.”

I stare at her. “I doubt that.” She’s pregnant. But Sophie doesn’t know that.

“Micah. I can smell alcohol from a mile away. You know that.”

“You sure it wasn’t someone else?”

She gently shakes her head. “It was definitely from her breath.”

I glance toward Kate. I think I heard someone once mention that a little wine is okay during pregnancy—but even so, something about it doesn’t sit right. Wyatt’s standing close to her, whispering something in her ear. He looks tense. He’s focused and protective, but definitely not happy.