“I hit him in the face with Shakespeare,” Elle said simply. “Tell your fiancé not to insult mine and to stay the hell away from me.”
Henry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his nose. “Her fiancé is a hooker. She had the nerve to bring that kind of filth into our wedding.”
Everyone was gathered around now. Hearing it all, looking Elle’s way, shock on their faces. Her mother was among them, eyebrows lifting high on her forehead, silent questions stacking up.
Lane’s expression was a stoic mask.
“Henry, what are you talking about?” Nina said, her voice bordering on hysterical as she tried to help him clean up. “She didn’t hire him. Lane was at her house when I went to visit her. Why are you fighting with her? This is our wedding rehearsal.”
“I’m not lying.” Henry said, anger still rippling through his words. “I checked his record.”
“Illegally checked,” Lane finally said. “You saw a charge that was false and dropped.”
“They’re lying,” Henry said, looking to the crowd gathered. “She knows who he is.”
All heads turned toward her, the faces of family, her mother’s friends, some curious, some appalled, some eager for gossip.
Elle set the book down on a nearby table and pulled her shoulders back, keeping her expression placid even though her arm was stinging from where Henry had gripped her and her anxiety wanted to take over. She stepped around Henry and his mess and went to Lane to take his hand. “Yes, I do. He’s a brilliant surrogate and counselor in the sex therapy department at the hospital I work at. He’s a man with a kind heart and the patience of a saint.” She looked up at Lane, finding his gaze heavy on her. “And he’s the best man I know. So yes, I know exactly who he is.”
Lane’s eyes softened, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He rubbed the tender spot on her arm where Henry had gripped and he kissed the top of her head. “Ready to celebrate your birthday, doc?”
Birthday. The safe word. She’d never been so happy to hear it. She smiled and leaned into him. “So very ready.”
Without worrying about who was looking or what they were saying about her, she slipped her arm around Lane’s waist and let him lead her out of the courtyard.
She’d miss the Shakespeare reading.
A shame, really.
She’d heard it was very impactful.
Especially when swung at full speed.
Lane and Elle’s footsteps went silent as they escaped into the carpeted hallways of the hotel. The blast of air-conditioning hit her heated face and made her suck in a breath. She was still trembling, but now it had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with adrenaline.
Lane grabbed her hand and turned to her as they made tracks toward the lobby. “You okay, doc?”
“I’m not sure. I think so?” She couldn’t think straight. Part of her was soaring because she’d just stood in front of everyone and told the truth, but the other part was reeling from what Henry had said to her about her role in the breakdown of their marriage. The words were eating at her like hungry caterpillars.
They passed a large potted fern and Lane tugged on her hand, dragging her into an arched alcove.
“What are you doing?”
Lane pulled her to him and captured both her hands between their bodies. His eyes scanned her face, searching. “Did you mean those things you said?”
She blinked, temporarily dazzled by the intensity in his gaze. “Which part?”
“The things you said about me. Tell me they were an act. Tell me they were to piss your ex off, that you were putting on a show.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice breathless to her own ears.
“Because then I won’t have to break the promise I made to myself.”
Her heart picked up speed and she wet her lips. “The book was for him. The words were the truth.”
Something broke in his expression, the scaffolding giving way. Lane released her hands and cupped her face. “You just told everyone you know that I sleep with people for a living.”
“I know,” she whispered.