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“Sorry. Look. Look what he said.” I thrust my phone at him and watch as he squints at it for a minute before reaching over to the counter and snagging his glasses.
Every other thought in my head scatters at the image he makes, concentrating on my phone through the dark-rimmed glasses. His serious expression, combined with his state of undress, is unexpectedly intoxicating.
A bead of water slides down his temple and then his neck, tracing along his pec and dropping farther until it’s absorbed by the towel that rides precariously low on his hips.
“Motherfucker,” he grits out, and I jump.
Did he catch me ogling him like dessert? But he’s still staring at my phone, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Can you believe they actually think he came up with ‘shenanigans?’”
“Anyone who’s had a five-minute conversation with him knows he didn’t.” He snorts.
“But that wasn’t what I was talking about. How many damn stories are already out there about our wedding?”
Our wedding. The phrase shouldn’t send warm tingles to my fingers. But I’ll keep it to myself that it does.
I shrug. “Evie said she’s gotten a lot of requests for comments all morning.”
He blows out a breath, his head dropping back to reveal the strong tendon in his neck.
“This was never going to be quiet, was it?” His whisper is meant for himself, but I still answer him.
“Nothing is quiet. Ever.” I’m used to it. Garrett isn’t. He doesn’t deserve all this. “Here. Give me back my phone.”
“Why?”
“I’ll call my attorney. Maybe he can figure a way out of all of this for us. I’ll talk to him about the hoops for the divorce.” I make a gimme motion, but he keeps it clasped tight in his hand while he studies me. “Garrett, c’mon. Give me back my phone.”
When he still doesn’t hand it over, I lunge for it. I don’t stand a chance since he’s almost a foot taller than me, and that’s before he raises the device above his head. All my movement does is bring my body flush with his. My body charges where it presses against him, the sensation reminiscent of the charged air before a storm rolls in.
“No,” he says. The word fades and the moment stretches between us. This close, I can see the ring of brown around his pupil as it fades to swirls of green and blue.
“No?” I whisper.
“You don’t need to call your attorney.” The way his lips move as he speaks hypnotizes me. His bottom lip is fuller than the top, and there’s a softness there that I’m suddenly entranced by.
Is he a good kisser? I wish I remembered, but I don’t.
And now I genuinely want to find out.
“I don’t?”
“I’ll do it.” His breath mingles with mine between us. “I’ll be your husband.”
“You will?”
“I guess you can say I’m doubling down,” he smirks and nods.
Relief rushes through me at his words. Throwing my arms around his neck, I wrap my body around his. “Eek. Oh my gosh, Garrett. You won’t regret this. I promise.”
His arms surround me—it’s crazy that one arm can nearly stretch all the way around—and I realize how little he’s still wearing.
“You should get dressed. We have a lot to do.”
He blinks as if only now waking up. “We do?”
I nod. “Uh-huh. We need to get back. Make a statement. And then we need to move your stuff to my house.”
