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Translation: I don't want to worry you about what I'm about to do.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ottilie's jaw drop because of Alexander's show of affection. I play it up, running my left hand along his cheek slowly so my engagement ring catches the light just right, and say, "Promise me you won't be too long."
"I promise, sweetheart," he says, with a tight smile.
She's as red as beet when I finally look at her. I give her a wide smile, which only makes her go redder.
It's hilarious.
Alexander passes me off to Wesley, who gives me the crook of his arm and I take it. Part of me wishes I could stay to hear what he's about to say, but I'm also glad he gave me a chance to step away from it.
Knowing him, it's going to be something rather macabre.
I can't even convince myself that he won't hurt them, even though we're in public. Wesley and I walk along the edge of the crowds, rubbing shoulders with–but not actually speaking to–the attendees. I still get strange glances from them, but without Alexander around, they must not know who I am.
"Why aren't you drinking?" I ask Wesley.
We're nearing the huge double doors on the other end of the room, now. They open out onto a huge cut stone terrace that overlooks a magnificent garden. Some of the party has spilled out here, though the crowd is much sparser than inside. A stone statue of a flock of doves perched on a tree sits in the center of the terrace, steaming water spewing out of it like a fountain.
Moonlight glimmers on the surface of the tinkling warm water.
"I'm on duty," Wesley says with a grin. "I get too loose when I drink."
That makes me laugh. "Loose-lipped, or..." I wiggle my eyebrows.
"Doubt I should be telling you which one," he says. "You're already laughing too much, don't want Alexander to see and think I'm trying to make a pass at his woman." There's a lilt of humor in his voice, but I know he's serious.
I turn to look in the direction we came but I can't see where Alexander is standing from here. The crowd's too thick, and I'm too short—even in these heels. I take another sip of my apple juice, wondering what he's saying to Ottilie and Jeffrey.
"You worried?" Wesley asks, folding his arms. He's dressed in a black suit, with a black shirt and black tie, much like all the other security guards here. Is that an unspoken rule? When I furrow my brows, he elaborates. "About Alexander."
I swirl a bit of juice around my tongue before I swallow.
"A bit," I say with a shrug. "Mostly worried about him making a scene more than anything else, though. Stuart is closer to him, right?"
Wesley nods. "Alex will be fine. Ottilie was disrespectful." He sucks in a breath. "That's one thing Alexander doesn't tolerate. Disrespect. He's been like that since we were kids."
I try to conjure up an image of how that would work with Alexander as a kid, but find that nothing really appears in my mind. "Really?" I prod Wesley for details.
Wesley seems happy that I asked. His whole face lights up. "Alexander had this guinea pig when he was seven. Monty, its name was. It was an ugly thing, a proper jumpscare if you ever saw it without warning. Thing looked like it was surviving on prayers alone."
I giggle, and this eggs Wesley on. He leans in conspiratorially.
"Anyway, Alex would go absolutely bonkers if anyone ever dared to say anything bad about the fucking thing." Wesley emotes with his hands. "I mean anything, Alize. I said he smelled like moldy cheese one day and he socked me right in the nose. Never said another bad word about it."
I cover my mouth with the back of my hand to stifle the laugh. "That sounds a lot like how he is now."
Will our kid have such a strong sense of right and wrong? If our baby ends up being a perfect mix of us both, then I'm certain they'll get some of Alexander's fire.
"So, if he was like that about an ugly-ass guinea pig, I fear for anybody who disrespects you."
His statement hangs between us as I drain the contents of my glass. The moment I finish drinking it, I get the urge to pee. The obstetrician was right about symptoms increasing. I just didn't expect it to be this soon.
I hand Wesley the empty glass. "Do you mind getting me a refill? I'm going to use the bathroom." There's a sign pointing out that they're accessible from the patio. Those certainly seem closer than the ones we passed in the lobby.
Wesley takes the glass, a bit of uncertainty in his eyes.
I point to the bathroom sign. "They're right there," I say. "You can wait for me outside if you get back before I'm done."
