Page 126 of Perfect Assumption

Her hair cascades forward, hiding her face, but nothing hides the strength in her words. “Not as much as I will always love you, Ward.” She twists her head to the side. I catch the deep pools of blue reflecting all the emotion in her soul.

It’s everything.

I lean forward and press my lips directly beneath the wordlovebefore I twist her against me. Then I tug her down against my lips so I can show her.

Like I intend to every day.

* * *

The next morningas we’re sharing breakfast, both of our cell phones start going off, and we groan simultaneously. “And this is why we didn’t go away right now,” Angie singsongs.

“We didn’t go somewhere because you want to go somewhere cold, but you don’t want to freeze,” I counter.

She makes a sound of agreement. Then she freezes. “Ward. We need to go. Right now. Can we get a cab?”

“We can do better than that.” I use the kitchen phone and make arrangements for a car to be waiting.

I grab Angie’s arm, and the two of us hurry to get downstairs to the car that’s waiting to take us both to the office. After we’re both settled inside, I ask her, “Did our wedding finally break?”

She shakes her head, sending flame-colored waves everywhere. “No. Oh, God. Ward, we just need to get there as quickly as possible.”

I scowl. “This isn’t exactly post-wedded-bliss behavior.”

She shoves her phone beneath my nose.

Shit.

I lean forward and inform the driver, “Rockefeller Center, please. And hurry.”

“Yes, sir.”

I curve my arm around Angie’s shoulder as she begins to scan all of the alerts coming in. Just then, my phone rings. Glancing at the caller ID, I immediately tell Carys, “We’re on our way in.”

Her relief is evident. “Thank God. I can’t handle this without the two of you. Is Angie okay?”

I glance down at my wife, who’s snarling at her phone. “She’s gearing up for battle.”

Carys says, “It’s nice when a husband and wife have things in common,” before hanging up.

I grin before I slip my phone into my pocket. Then to distract my wife’s fury, I spend the thirty minutes it takes me and Angie to get to the office by kissing her and reminding her that she is everything her new ink says she is.

Therefore, she’s ready to fight alongside the rest of us for one of our friends.

I take one last look at Angie’s phone and curse roundly. “They never stop, do they?”

“No. But you said it yourself. It’s simpler if we fight together,” Angie reminds me.

And not caring if a million paps are taking shots, I lean over and kiss her, causing her to drop her phone to her lap.

The screen flashes off on the alert that drove us to leave our home so rapidly.

The End