My jaw slackens at his cool, matter-of-fact tone. I’d love some revenge, but do I want Chadwick ruined forever? “Can you really do that?”
“Oh, quite easily. Nobody hurts you and gets away with it.”
My heart flutters, and emotio
ns I can’t name grow in my chest. I can’t remember the last time a man made me feel this protected and cared for. Well, no man has ever made me feel like this before, period. Then I remind myself not to read too much into it.
“Right,” I say, sitting down. “It wouldn’t look good to have your wife be disrespected.”
Nate pushes himself off the doorframe and comes closer. I stay seated, utterly mute and still, like a small bird eyeing an approaching cat, my heart beating rapidly.
The backs of his fingers brush against my cheek, the touch feather-light. “Nobody gets to disrespect you. Regardless of who you’re married to.” His voice is like granite, a tone I’ve never heard from him before. “Six weeks from now, six years from now, it doesn’t matter.”
My stomach is jittery. It’s difficult to draw air into my lungs. So many thoughts jumble in my head, and I want to lean into him so bad, just lay my hand over his and gently kiss the fingers on my cheek.
Except that’s way, way too intimate. And not part of my plan.
With great difficulty, I pull back, breaking the contact, and force a smile. “Well, thank you. Now, we have to go over the women’s health initiative report from the Sterling Medical Center. Let’s get started so we can go home,” I say. All the while, my heart calls me a coward.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Evie
“So. What do you think would be good to wear? Really formal or semi-formal?” I ask as I sort through the dresses in the suitcases. I’m so frazzled that I only had a single slice of toasted white bread for breakfast and haven’t bothered with lunch yet. No time to think about that right now. I’m just grateful Nate is taking care of the details of Mom’s trip to the party. I initially volunteered, but he said he’d do it like a dutiful son-in-law.
“Ideally? Formal,” Kim says, her voice loud and clear on the phone. “Something a bit on the traditional side. Nothing too risqué or flamboyant. I mean, you can do that, but later, without Barron or the other old folks around.”
“Right.” I look at the black cocktail dress I bought two months ago on sale. It’s very basic, but also classic.
“You can just ask Nate, if you’re really unsure.”
And have him suggest I dress in some neon-pink piranha dress he saw in Fashion-Fails-R-Us? No thanks.
But I don’t want to badmouth his lack of taste. He can’t help it, and it’s a sign God is fair. “He’s out with his mom.”
For which I’m eternally grateful to Blanche. After that intensely connecting moment in the office, he’s been a bit weird, watching me even more speculatively. I don’t think he’s going to go murder Chadwick, but the scrutiny kind of worries me, especially because I don’t know how to make him stop being so…different or deal with this new side I’m seeing.
“Doing what?” Kim asks.
“Shopping. Apparently she hasn’t bought enough gifts for the kids.”
“They’re big on kids,” she says, her voice growing a little sad. “Especially Barron. I heard he lost two grandsons when they were little.”
Sympathy wells. I didn’t know that about Barron. Learning about his loss somehow humanizes him. Even a man like him—so immensely wealthy and powerful—can’t control everything.
Not that it excuses his terribly overbearing attitude, but—
Kim moans.
“Are you okay?” It sounds like she’s in some serious pain.
“Yeah,” she says, panting a little. “Just my damn period. Started three days ago. I ran out of Tylenol, and I’m cramping like crazy. Not even chocolate’s helping.”
I make a sympathetic noise, but then it hits me. She’s on her period. Not just started it, but on her third day.
Where the hell is mine?
Kim and I are one hundred percent synched. And I’m regular. Like “if I’m ever lost on a deserted island with no calendar, you could create one based on my cycle” regular.