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I look at the other messages between Luna and Ryan.
She messaged first, wanting to see him. I should be more understanding.
Luna is an innocent caught in the mix of my shit with her father. She was planning to give herself to the guy she’s always loved when I stole that dream away before she could blink.
Any normal person would be understanding, so I should, but the annoyance firing in my gut stops me.
“Anything of interest?” Asher asks, noting my reaction.
I hand him my phone so he can read the correspondence between my soon-to-be wife and her little boyfriend.
Asher reads with raised brows and finally looks at me. “Are you going to stand for that?”
“Fuck, no.”
It seems I’ll need to watch my little Bellissima as closely as I’m watching her father.
Chapter 6
Luna
My nerves are tingling as if they've been zapped with a bolt of lightning.
I'm barely managing to hold it together as I proceed up the wide stone steps of the state's government office—Dad's workplace and now Ryan's.
I'm going to see Ryan and my heart has that fragile feeling again, like it might shatter against a strong breeze.
I reach the top of the steps and go through the door, then pull in a deep breath to calm the chaos in my mind. It doesn't work but it takes the edge off, the way an ice pack would on a broken bone.
Ryan said he'd meet me in the foyer so I wouldn't have to wait. Or rather, to limit the chances of running into my father.
There's no way I could tell Dad I was going to see Ryan. He wouldn't have understood. The first thing he'd ask me is why I couldn't have called, then he'd proceed to lecture me about how I have to be mindful now that I'm going to be Hunter’s wife.
Knowing that, I had to do things my way, and I had to do this today.
I messaged Ryan earlier this morning, opting not to call him and to just be spontaneous in case things didn't go as planned.
I know he's being careful around my father too. Dad holds the keys to his future and neither of us wants to mess that up. Especially me. I’d feel awful if I did anything to jeopardize his prospects.
I walk into the spacious foyer that holds the same stunning Romanesque Revival architectural style as the exterior of the building.
There are quite a few people milling around but I don’t have to look too hard or too long to find Ryan.
My heart leaps when I see him standing by the large oil painting of George Washington.
My poor body sighs with relief at the sight of him and knowing it's actually him this time. There is no mistake here. That's Ryan.
He's dressed in a charcoal suit, and I can see he's allowed his hair to grow out so it’s shaggy. I can also see how I was easily fooled in the dark the other night.
Ryan and Hunter have the same dark blond hair, height, and muscular stature, so it wasn't that hard. But where Ryan looks more like he’s been in the Army, Hunter has a gym-workout body.
Ryan turns toward me as I approach.
On seeing him smiling at me my pace quickens, and I find myself running toward him. He runs too and we meet in the middle with a hug that's filled with the warmth of our friendship.
It reminds me of how we met. It was in the park that Mom used to take me to. I was five and he was eight. He’d seen me crying because some boys had taken my teddy bear. He got it back for me and decided to be my friend.
“Ryan,” I mutter against his chest.
