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Everett’s eyes go soft and tender, but he shakes his head. “You have given everything to being CEO, you live and breathe Milenna, you cannot throw that away. You have to keep your influence as a leader.”
He’s breaking my heart. He sees me and may be the only person who does. And he’s decided to leave. I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to cry anymore today.
“I haven’t even asked, do you know where you’re going next?” I ask in a stupid, fake-perky voice.
He sighs and the look of pity mixed with regret is awful. “I’m going to Poland.”
“Poland!” I shout. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper and now he’s getting choked up.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, coming closer, ready to sneak up under his good arm and hold on to him forever.
Everett sighs. “Come here.”
He waves me over and makes room for me next to him on the bed. I come around and sit down on his right side. We’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, so close I can listen to his breath. Everett takes my left hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and after a moment, he gently twirls my ring around my finger. It’s familiar, intimate.
“Look, this isn’t about me right now,” he says. “We’ll talk about me once things are more sorted with you. I just want it to be clear that you don’t have to protect me. I knew what I was getting myself into when I asked you to marry me, how I could get hurt, how painful it could be, how it could go wrong. But I underestimated the way it would play out for you professionally if people found out. That’s on me. So, spin this however you need to.”
“Don’t fall on your sword,” I say. “Don’t sacrifice your dignity for me.”
Everett clears his throat and presses on. “I’ll cooperate gladly with whatever story you go with, no matter how it paints me. I never wanted to jeopardize your position.”
Part of me melts at how considerate he is and part of me is angry at how the fight’s gone out of him.
“Mr. Delancey will probably want us to get a divorce,” I throw out, hating myself for testing the waters. Everett doesn’t deserve underhand tactics. But I want to know, I need to know if he’s going to just let me go.
“We both knew from the beginning this wasn’t supposed to be forever,” he says in a grave voice. He sounds dead serious, but something about his words flies in the face of everything that’s transpired.
I want to protest, but I’m cut off by a knock at the door and Ainsley waltzing in with the laptop in her arms. I jump up and stand a foot away from the bed.
“Good news, I found your laptop!” says Ainsley, faltering a bit when she sees Everett. He’s leaned back, running his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. He looks like he needs a nap. “Wow, look at you, Evvy. Your sex appeal is going to go through the roof with a hot scar on your shoulder.”
I pointedly clear my throat. She’s not wrong, somehow he looks even more handsome all haggard and bandaged than he does in his suit and tie, I just don’t like hearing another woman say it. All rights reserved, by me.
She tosses him a black zip-up hoodie she must have picked up at the house. He grabs it before it hits him in the face, giving her an exasperated look.
“Well, aren’t you happy I’m here?” She asks.
Everett nods reluctantly. “You’re on the detail now?”
I pick up the hoodie and drape it over Everett’s broad shoulders as he leans forward, then eases his good arm through one sleeve. He murmurs a quick thanks. It’s such a little thing, but it’s something that makes me feel wifely.
“Yeah, until Garth gets here. You’re lucky it’s him and not one of the hot ones like Erik or Lucas or Jack. Less competition for you.”
“Garth?!” I exclaim. When Everett said someone would replace him, I just assumed someone in the same vein of life. A late twenties, early thirties guy who looks nice in a suit and gels his hair. Garth sounds like-
“He’s so nice,” murmurs Ainsley in reassurance. “He’s this big ol’ Montana cowboy. He’s got the cutest grandkids.”
Garth sounds like he might wear a blazer, jeans, and cowboy boots. Not that I’m judging. And did she say, “Grandkids?”
“Yeah, cute ones. Laina, here’s some clothes for you too.” Right, I’m in dire need of a shower and a change of clothes.
“Anyhow, about this,” Ainsley holds up the laptop. “We need to talk next steps, because you’re on the front of every tabloid and TikTok ForYouPage, which makes things a little complicated as far as where and when you’re seen.”
“And with who,” interjects Everett.
I’m so irritated by all the hype and the mess that other people are creating around this. “Why do people do this? Why do people mass together and make these group decisions about what a person is allowed to do or not do and it’s not even about people who are evil or mean or wrong? Like why is all the energy directed at me and a marriage certificate? How about we go after the gross, evil, shadowy people in the world?”
