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“How’s Emerson feeling?” I ask against my better judgment.
He drags his hand through his black hair, the stress he’s obviously trying to mask coming to the surface. “She’s been really tired this week. I know it’s normal, but I can’t help but feel guilty for being the reason for it.”
I shake my head. “It won’t last forever, and you’ll forget all about it once she pops out the kid.”
He nods, but the ghost of his worry is still clear on his furrowed brow. “How was Boston?”
“Complicated.”
“How so?”
I open my mouth to tell him a lie, but he’s as close to a friend as I have. And if you can’t tell your friends that you got married to a woman twenty years younger than you so she didn’t die the same death your late wife did, who can you tell?
“I got married.”
He turns on me, his eyes wide with surprise. “You did what now?”
“It’s complicated. But basically, I married my dead wife’s niece so she didn’t get taken by the brother of the man her father, my ex-best friend, killed after my wife died.”
He stares at me for long seconds, blinking a few times as he tries to process all that I’ve just thrown at him. “Excuse me?”
“Like I said, it was complicated.”
“That’s not complicated, Doc. That’s damn right fucked up. And that’s coming from me.” He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but as someone who moved his now-wife into his apartment without her knowledge, and his best friend stalked his sister for the better part of a decade. And that’s not even mentioning the rest of the family.
I nod and down my drink in one hit. “You can say that again.”
Rayne taps the bar, and when the bartender brings the bottle over, he says, “Leave the bottle.” He pours us both another glass before taking a long sip of his drink. “Tell me about her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s your wife?”
“I barely know her,” I sigh. “Everett is doing a background check for me to learn the stuff she won’t tell me, but really I don’t know the first thing about her other than that she’s a pain in the ass.”
Rayne chuckles and shakes his head, like he’s aware of a joke that I’m missing. “Oh boy, you’re in trouble.”
I open my mouth to ask what the fuck he’s talking about when the roar of applause interrupts my words, and I turn my attention to the fight that’s about to take place before us.
I didn’t realize how much I needed it until right now. The blood. The rage in the air. The violence. It’s the one thing that settles the demons inside me, and for the first time since they started talking about opening the fight club, I seriously consider stepping into the ring just to let out some of this excess restlessness my new wife has forced upon me.
Ihesitate at the bedroom door.
I’ve been standing here for the last ten minutes with my hand on the handle, trying to force myself into my own goddamn bedroom.
But it’s not just mine anymore.
It’s hers too, and I fucking hate it.
I never thought I’d have to share anything again. I was quite prepared to live out the rest of my life as a bachelor, only ever relying on myself.
But life had other plans.
I finally force myself through the door, and I’m met with darkness. The curtains are drawn over the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights below blocked.
I usually sleep with it open because it’s been a long time since I slept through the night, but I’m almost glad for the darkness right now.
My eyes adjust and I spot the lump on the edge of the mattress, as far from my side as she could possibly get. I don’t even know how the fuck she would know what side I sleep on, but somehow she chose right.
