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I’ve seen plenty of brides, but I don’t think I’ll ever see another one more beautiful than her.
My wife.
“The bedroom is through here,” I say, starting toward it just so I can drag my thoughts away from how she looked this morning.
I shove the door open and leave her suitcase by the door. I’m going to have to get another set of drawers in here for her and clean out some of my shit from the closet so she has somewhere to hang her stuff.
The more I think about this decision, the more inconvenient it gets. Why the fuck didn’t I just let Spade take her? What has Edward done for me since Clarissa died that made me save his only child from a lifetime of misery?
You help the Saint James family save women from men like him,I remind myself. It’s just that usually my responsibility for them begins and ends that same night. I check them over, give them any urgent medical treatment they may need, and then I’m off. This isn’t the same.
I just tied myself to this woman for the rest of my life. A woman who is twenty years my junior and my dead wife’s niece.
Yeah, it doesn’t matter how many times I repeat that to myself, it never sounds any less fucked up.
Isla’s eyes track over the dark bedspread on the hardwood four-poster bed, the same one I built when I first arrived in Chicago to pass the time and quiet the demons.
“This is your room?” she asks quietly.
“Ours,” I correct her, and I almost laugh at the way her eyes widen. “This is a one-bedroom apartment,” I add, hoping it will distract her from my amusement.
“Oh.” Isla nods and places her handbag down beside her suitcase. “It’s lovely.”
I chuckle, but before I can respond my phone vibrates in my pocket. A scowl tugs at my brow when I see Everett’s name on the ID. This motherfucker needs to stop calling me every thirty seconds about every sound Wynter or Summer make. I’mincredibly fond of his fiancé and their newborn daughter, but him, not so much.
I step out of the room and snap my response. “What?”
“Hello to you too.” His tone is amused.
“I’m busy. What do you need?”
“Wynter is having some cramping, and I wanted to check if it’s normal.”
“Yes, it’s normal,” the oldest Saint James daughter shouts from somewhere nearby. “I just gave birth, you impossible idiot. Now stop bothering Doc or he won’t answer the phone when there’s actually something wrong.”
I rub my hand down my face and sigh. These men are going to be the fucking end of me. “What Wynter said.”
“Are you sure? Should I take her back to the hospital just to be on the safe side?”
“No,” I growl at the same time Wynter does. At least I’m not the only one who’s sick of his bullshit.
There’s a scuffle on the other end of the line, and then Wynter’s voice fills the line. “I’m so sorry he called you again, Doc. I tried to stop him.”
I soften, a rare smile tipping up the corners of my lips. “It’s fine. Are you actually okay? I can come and do a checkup if you need?”
“I’m fine.” She sighs. “Tired as hell, but fine.”
“That’s what happens when you have a baby,” I remind her.
She laughs, but I can hear the happiness in her even through the phone. “I know, but it’s the best kind of tired.”
“Let me know if you’re worried and I’ll pop around but tell your overprotective fiancé to settle.” I chuckle.
“I’ve told him so many times that I’m thinking about tattooing it on my forehead to really drive the point home.”
“You will do no such thing,” he snaps in the background.
She lets out a soft laugh. “How was your trip? Storm said you were coming home today.”
