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“Yes, sir,” Karl answered, instantly making what I was sure was an illegal U-turn in heavy Boston traffic, heading back across the other side of the city to the place where our epic journey had begun just four or five nights ago.
“Why are we going to Dolores’?” I asked, though a million other questions ran through my brain at high speed.
Are you mad?
Can I borrow your phone so I can start looking for a hotel to sleep at tonight?
Why did you tell Chad I was your wife?
He looked across at me with his eyebrow raised. “Pie,” he answered as though it was obvious.
“Pie,” I echoed, making sure I heard him right.
“You told me it makes you feel better when you’ve had a bad day. And I’m not sure what other places in the city sell pie you like. So, we’re going to Dolores’.”
The sharp, breathy laugh that fell from my lips surprised even me. “To get pie,” I repeated, well aware it was the fourth time the word pie had been used within the last fifteen seconds, but once again, I needed confirmation before I allowed myself to feel the warmth of his gesture.
Not the first, or even the largest, given he’d rescued me from the side of the road and also given me a place to stay.
But this? It meant the most.
A soft chuckle came from the front seat while a smirk twitched at the corner of Reed’s mouth. He leaned back into the seat, dropping his phone into his lap. “Am I speaking another language?” he teased.
“Nope! Got it!”
The smirk stayed on his face as he looked back at his cell. “Good. I also thought Dolores’ would be a good place to finalize the formalities of our…marriage.”Oh shit.“I just texted my assistant and asked her to meet us there with my publicist and a couple of rings.”
I waited for him to turn to me, see the shock on my face, and laugh.
But he didn’t.
I hope Dolores made a lot of pie today…
… because I was going to need it!
Chapter Twelve
REED
“I said catch the bouquet,” Martha teased, peeking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Not steal the bride.”
I didn’t bother to argue or reason with her about why I was doing what I was doing. At this point, Martha was acutely aware of my impulsive habits. She’d had to deal with the aftermath of many of them, but I could count on one hand those that crashed and burned.
More often than not, my instincts in any given situation were right.
I let them lead.
I simply followed.
“I didn’t have to steal her,” I told Martha, not having to even glance at her face to know she had heryeah-surelookplastered across it. “She walked out on that bastard all on her own.” My attention was focused on Valen. She sat in another booth across the other side of the diner with a plate of apple pie in front of her and Dolores sitting opposite, chatting away excitedly. Dolores had closed the diner an hour early so we could use the space to make a plan.
Every day I spent around Valen, I was learning more and more about how strong this woman was. But I also began to understand that much of that strength was reactionary. She hadn’t been brought up as a fighter, raised to stand up and speak out. No, this strength came because she’d spent so long being told to sit down and shut up.
It was commendable.
And kind of fucking beautiful.
“The pictures are everywhere at this point,” Tracy, my publicist, said as she turned her laptop to face me. “Searches of your name or Valen’s all come up with this.” She scrolled through Google images, the majority of them the latest pictures of Valen and me walking into Dolores’ Diner, her still in her wedding gown, but there were a handful of others too. A couple were even taken as we left the hospital.
