AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hours later it’s officially morning and the first person to come barreling into Everett’s room is the last person I expect. Mr. Delancey.
He wakes me up with a too loud, “Good morning.”
I peek out from under a thin blanket with a groan and see Everett sitting up in the hospital bed, setting his phone down, looking like he’s been awake for awhile. Everything about him seems healthy and whole, such a contrast from last night. The human body and its ability to recover is remarkable.
Everett sees me stirring and winks at me. I wink back, sliding the blanket down so he can see my grin. My entire body fills with butterflies.
There’s a conversation waiting to happen. All the subtleties need to go, I want to talk about what we’ve been holding back. Watching him bleed out reminded me that time is fragile and short, and I need every second I have remaining with him to be filled with honesty.
He glances up at Mr. Delancey, who we’ve both completely ignored since he entered the room.
“How are you doing, Everett Park?” asks Mr. Delancey. He sounds concerned, but there’s some passive aggression in the way he just used Everett’s name.
“Fine, sir,” says Everett. “The surgeon said my shoulder should heal completely, no permanent damage.”
“Good, good, that’s good news,” says Mr. Delancey, pacing at the foot of the bed. He pauses and his eyes flick back and forth between Everett and me, narrowing in suspicion.
“Have you seen the news?” he asks me. I shake my head as Everett nods.
“What news?” I stand and stretch, looking between the two of them.
“We’ll get to that,” says Mr. Delancey. “Look, I have to ask, are you two married?”
“Yes,” we answer in unison.
“Bloody hell,” he murmurs under his breath, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Why on earth would you do that?” He’s almost pleading in his tone. “I’m sorry, I know that Everett is hurt and I’m so glad you’re going to recover and thank you so much for protecting Laina. I’m so glad you’re both safe. But why did you two go and get married? Especially without telling me?”
His “not angry, just disappointed” tone is my kryptonite and it’s eating me up that I can’t tell him the truth.
I can’t tell him the real reason, that I needed a legal ally, that now Everett can’t testify in court that my dad is actually still alive. I also can’t tell him that I’m trying to hand over evidence to take down a criminal group and I needed my bodyguard to be on my side. I can’t say that I needed a confidant, a teammate, a friend. And I certainly can’t say that Everett is turning into something more than all those things.
I’m hesitating to answer Mr. Delancey and I know it looks bad.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks, gently.
“No!” Everett and I say at the same time, a blush taking over my face and neck. Everett chimes in, “Getting married was a decision we made together.” Good answer, Ev.
“Okay, but why?” Mr. Delancey asks again.
Everett and I have a silent conversation with our eyes, one where I freak out a bit and he gives me reassurance that the truth stays between us and he’s in my corner. The outcome is me saying, “This is a completely personal and private matter.”
Mr Delancey scoffs. “Geez, do I have to get you guys in front of a lawyer to pry this out of you?”
Well, jokes on him, because not even that would work.
“What did you see on the news?” I ask Everett, shifting focus.
“All the paparazzi stuff from last night,” he holds out his phone towards me, but as I reach to take it, he pulls it back. “Just so you know, it’s not great.”
I keep my hand outstretched and he hands the phone over. I google my name and scroll through the headlines.
Not great is an understatement. There’s speculation about everything from Everett heroically rescuing me during a home invasion to rumors of domestic violence perpetrated by me, a stone cold-wow.
“As you can see, this is fairly awful for you and the company,” adds Mr. Delancey.
“So?” I say with a defensive shrug, casually handing the phone back to Everett while shaking on the inside. It’s bad, one of my fears come to life. The vitriol, the shaming, the names are terrifying. And Dad’s going to come back to this.
“So? So?” Mr. Delancey says, a hint of drama rising in his voice. “The board is wondering if you’re fit to lead the company. They’ve been chomping at the bit to boot you out and put in one of the old guard ogres. Influencers are starting to cancel you over the domestic violence speculation, not to mention the memes and deepfakes and AI-generated B.S. that’s going to come of these photos of you covered in blood.”
