Wyatt
Sinclair was a little off the entire day. Of course, it wasn’t every day you got married, so I initially put her mood down to nerves. After the incident with the mayor, she seemed agitated, so I did what I could to keep things calm and easy. I’d nearly given up on the honeymoon idea, even though the mayor was questioning the legitimacy of our marriage. Fortunately she saw the need to carry on the ruse.
Of course, for me, it was a chance to spend time alone with her. She was adamant that there would be no more physical contact between us, and I’d respect that. That didn’t mean I wasn’t prepared for honeymoon sex, but if it didn’t happen, I’d accept that.
Mostly I just wanted time away from Salvation, our families and the Stark business to reconnect with her. Ten years ago, we talked about anything and everything. I felt closer to her than I’d ever felt to anyone. Walking away from her had felt like walking away from a part of my soul. Whether this marriage stayed fake or not, what I really wanted was to feel that connection with her again. I hoped a night in Lincoln, away from stress and pressure, would facilitate the start of that.
I looked over at her sitting in the passenger seat. She was staring out the window. I wondered what was going on in her head. The furrow of her brow suggested it wasn’t good.
“You know, this isn’t my first fake wedding,” I said.
She turned her head to me. “What? You fake married before?”
I laughed. “No. I mean I’ve been to another fake wedding. When I was in the military we were sent to bust up a weapons and drug deal between two bigwigs in the cartel in South America. They’d set up the meet as a wedding, though it was completely fake.”
“The military does that sort of thing?”
“Protect America from threats. The cartel is a threat. Anyway, we went in disguised as caterers.” I smiled, letting her know this wasn’t a heavy deep and real war story. Not that some serious shit hadn’t gone down, but in the end, all turned out well.
“Do you speak Spanish?” she asked, turning toward me. I was glad to see her re-engage with me and show interest in my story.
“Si, Senora.”
“You nearly flunked high school Spanish,” she said, smirking at me.
“You learn a language
quick when your life depends on it. Plus, the military has special schools. High school teaches it all wrong.”
“So, what did you do at the fake wedding?”
“Well, we broke up the deal, taking down two significant players in the fight against weapons and drug trafficking.”
“You got your man.”
“Men. And my leader got the fake bride.” I grinned.
She cocked her head. “She was in on it?”
“No. She thought they were auditioning for a movie. My leader helped her through her disappointment.” I waggled my brows so she’d understand what I was saying.
“Oh. I see. Did that happen a lot?” she quirked a brow at me and I realized perhaps that part of the story should have stayed hidden.
“Sometimes. Always consensual.”
Her smile faltered a little. I wished I could tell her I’d been faithful to our love all those years, but I wasn’t about to start lying. The only thing that I’d been faithful to was how I felt about her. The other women, they were simply to assuage the loneliness or get my rocks off.
Then again, she hadn’t been faithful to our love either. She’d hooked up with someone far sooner than I had. I wanted to ask her about the man who gave her Alyssa, but the few times I’d broached the subject, she’d closed down on me.
“Sinclair.”
She looked at me.
“I never forgot you. Or stopped caring for you.”
She gave me a wan smile.
“Often, nearly always, actually, I imagined you.” I wasn’t sure if I should have been telling her this. What did it say about me that when I was with other women, Sinclair was on my mind? Would she see that as a good thing or bad?