“She’s not good enough for you. Isn’t that obvious?” Bianca raises her chin, eyes narrowed.
It’s enough to spark fury in my own veins in response. “You need to leave. Now.”
She flashes me a furious glare as she storms toward the door. “You think you’ve had it tough, John Walloway?” Her voice comes out tight and angry. “You should learn what it really feels like to have your life ruined. Then we’d see how tough you really are. Or aren’t, without the whole world catering to your every whim…”
I don’t answer that. But when she slams the door behind her with one last glare, something sparks inside me.
Fear.
All I can think about is Mara. Mara, safe but oblivious at home, getting ready for our dinner date. You should learn what it really feels like to have your life ruined… What did she mean by that? What did she do?
I’m grabbing my desk phone before I even have time to think about it. I dial Mara’s number off by heart, one of the only phone numbers I bothered to memorize. It rings once, twice, and my breath hitches in my chest. No, don’t let anything have happened to her. I couldn’t face that possibility, couldn’t handle it if something had happened…
But then I hear her familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“Mara, it’s me. Are you on your way to dinner yet?”
I can hear honking in the background, the sound of traffic. “I’m in the car. Why, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” she points out, in the way that I normally love of hers, of seeing straight through my crap. In spite of my worry, I have to smile.
“No, it’s…” I shake my head. I’m being paranoid. Overprotective. I’m worrying about nothing, that’s all. “Something strange just happened, that’s all,” I say. “I’ll explain when we’re at dinner, all right?”
“Okay,” she says, still with that hesitation in her tone. “You sure you’re fine?”
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, mostly to avoid having to lie to her over that question again. “When you get to the restaurant, stay put, okay? I don’t want you off somewhere by yourself just now, that’s all.”
A long pause on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. “Okay, but you’re explaining what the hell is going on the second you get here.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I promise.” I hang up and shut down my computer, reaching for my coat. There’s still more work I’d planned on finishing before I left tonight, but screw it. First priorities have to come first. And there’s a nagging sense of worry I can’t shake, a fear that there’s something wrong here that I’m not seeing right now. It’s a worry I know I won’t be able to shake until I’m with Mara, until I have her in my arms and I know she’s all right.
So, leaving work unfinished, something I’ve never done since the day I started Pitfire years ago, I shut off my office lights, lock the door carefully behind me, and head downstairs toward my car, to go and find my wife.
12
John
She’s standing outside the restaurant when I pull up. It’s a nicer place, a new one that just opened in town, which we’d both been eager to try. But right now, the restaurant and its well-reviewed fare is the last thing on my mind. I toss my keys to the valet without even looking, and beeline straight toward Mara, not stopping until I wrap my arms around her slender form and pull her against me.
She laughs softly, her face buried in my chest, the vibration of her laughter traveling up through my arms and chest, sending my head buzzing with the fresh proximity of her. I dip down to kiss the top of her head and try my best not to get distracted by how amazing she smells—rose shampoo mixed with her jasmine perfume and the scent beneath them both, a sweet smell that’s all my wife.
“There you are,” I murmur against her hair, and she laughs again, drawing back just far enough to tilt her chin up and catch my gaze, her eyes narrowed with confusion and more than a little bit of suspicion.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Are you all right?”
“I am now that I know you are,” I tell her, my arms tightening around her once more.
She tilts her head back, and I bend down to kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, soft and slow. She lets out a sigh and sinks into me a little more closely, just for a second. Then she twists out of my grasp. “Are you going to explain the freak out, or are you going to leave me in suspense all night?”
I grimace and slide my hands down her arms before I take her hand, leading her toward the front of the restaurant. “Bianca came onto me.”