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Ebony huffs a sound of irritation. “Opal, open your eyes. Gauge still loves you. He’s stubborn for whatever reason. Look, I don’t want to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but it seems like you could use some advice. Do you want it?”
Hope blooms in my chest. “I’ll take any advice you have.”
“You pull up your big girl panties and fight for him, fight for your relationship. I’m not saying give him a pass for his shitty behavior toward you—give him hell for it. Let him know you won’t tolerate it again. But from the relationship side of things, you remind him with your words and actions that what you two share is worth salvaging.”
“Eb, I’ve tried telling him how much he’s hurting me. That his words and actions leave lasting impressions that would be super hard to forget. He blows me over each time.”
“Then put your foot down, Opal. Stand your ground and take control of the conversation. Don’t give him room to walk all over you. You’re no longer a scared runaway. You’re MC—own it.”
I may doubt Ebony’s faith in my ability to step up, but she dropped a lot of truth. If I want this relationship as much as I claim I do, I need to fight for us.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
GAUGE
This mission was only half successful. We got the governor’s daughter back safely, but her nanny didn’t make it out. We made the men holding them hostage suffer for what they did to the innocent woman, but it doesn’t undo what they did to her or bring her back to life.
Atlas was a damn beast on this mission, and not only because the assignment was sensitive. The love-sick idiot went and slept with the architect, but didn’t bother to fill her in why he rushed out of her bed so quickly after receiving my SOS. I thought he was going to tear our hideout apart when he discovered she had blocked him from communicating with her.
Jo has some brass ovaries. I’ll give her that. Nobody tells Atlas to fuck off, but she did it with a damn smile. However, it would have been ideal had she waited until after our rescue operation was done. It was unnerving to see Atlas flustered when the guy never loses his cool. This woman must be the one.
“I’m buying a damn ring when we get home,” Atlas mutters beside me as we finish paperwork from the recovery mission.
“Don’t do that,” I stress. The guy is emotionally distraught and not thinking clearly.
“You’re right,” Atlas muses aloud. “She deserves something better than a store-bought ring. I’ll have one made, customized to be perfect for her.”
Jesus.He’s gone off the rocker. “That’s not what I meant. You’re rushing into this. You need to apologize, win her back, and then maybe you can have a future with her.”
Atlas turns his black eyes on me, his expression deadpan. “I’m marrying Jo. I fucked up with how I left things, but make no mistake, I will marry that woman.” He looks out the window of the United States Embassy in Colombia, his knee bouncing with anticipation. “Jo’s it for me, like Opal is it for you.”
“Stop. We’ve gone over this. Opal isn’t my woman.”
“No, you stop, Gauge,” Atlas returns. “I don’t know what the fuck crawled up your ass over being committed to Opal, but you need to pull it out before I reach up there and yank it out for you.”
“Dude! Will you hop off my back already? I don’t want to get into this right now.”
I want to tell him to mind his own damn business, focus on his architect problem, but that’s not how our relationship works. We know each other’s ins and outs in everything—business, club, women, and personal baggage. I would be a hypocrite since I just offered him relationship advice seconds ago. Giving advice is easy, but taking it…
Atlas ignores me, pressing on. “I mean it. Opal is your woman. Jo is my woman. We will marry our women. We’re going to have kids and raise them together. And someday, if we’re fucking lucky, our kids will fall in love and marry. That’s the prophecy and you can’t mess with fate.”
Annoyed, I rub my eyelids with the heels of my palms. “I can’t deal with your level of lunacy. How about I finish the paperwork? You can fly back early to woo the architectural engineer you’re so eager to marry.”
Atlas throws me a desperate look. “Seriously? You’d finish this shit so I can fly home?”
“Yes,” I agree urgently, shooing him with my hands. “Go, please.”
My best friend pulls me in for a massive hug before jogging out of the room. At least one of us should be with the love of our lives. I’m only disappointed I can’t be like Atlas and go to Opal.
* * *
Two more hours of government paper formalities and a ten-hour flight later, the crew and I arrive back home at the rental. The first thing I notice is Opal isn’t there to greet me like usual. It wounds me, but after how I left her hanging in a world of hurt, I’m not surprised.
My brothers are keen to throw back some beers and celebrate. However, all I want to do is crawl into bed. Being around Opal will be painful, and I could use a good night’s sleep before confronting her. Then again, my words may be wasted if Opal has already checked out of the relationship.
On my way to the bunkroom, I pass the bathroom. The bunnies are getting dolled up for the evening. I nearly breeze past when something catches my attention. I stop and backtrack, gawking at the precious woman standing among them.
Opal is dressed to kill—tight black skirt showing off her slender legs, white tank top cut low revealing a massive amount of cleavage, and those fucking stripper heels I love so much.
