Page 10 of Splintered Security (Aspen & Evergreen #2)
the wrong page
Anni
I’m sure I sounded like a loon. Seriously, how many times can one person ask about the marriage certificate—how long until it’s filed, when we’ll know?
I hope I looked desperate to begin the name changing fiasco and not just plain desperate. But it needs to be official.
Like official official.
It’s waving a red flag in front of a bull when it comes to Heath Giltenhouse, and I know it, but I can’t seem to care.
One, because there’s less he can do to me now. Not little, not none, but less, and that difference is important.
I also can’t seem to care because Ren Gallo is wearing my ring. Well, he’s wearing a ring he bought for himself, but I put it there. And I’m wearing his.
I stare at the two bands now resting on my left ring finger.
One is loaded with diamonds and would be pretentious if it weren’t so delicate.
It’s blingy but soft. The other matches but holds a cushion cut solitaire which is huge on my hand.
Still, though, it’s the perfect fit. Everything about it is perfect.
“You like it?” Ren reaches across the table to take my left hand, fingering the rings he placed there.
Do I like it? What kind of question is that?
I swallow past the emotion knotting my throat and nod, but add, “If I had every ring in the world to choose from, I would choose this one every time.”
I look down at my hand again, at his large olive palm playing with my finger and the diamonds sparkling there. When I look up, his eyes are heated, but he says nothing.
Our brunch has been like this. Stolen touches, heated looks. Lots of things unsaid.
For me, there’s so much intimacy in what we’ve just done. The vows we made weren’t for public consumption. Mine weren’t. And since I know Ren, I know his weren’t either.
Our very public declaration was of fiercely private promises.
I promise to be faithful only to you until the day I die. This is my vow.
Those words ring in my head. More than the love part. Maybe even more than the protect part.
“Where’d you go?” He squeezes my hand as his words filter through the haze of my thoughts.
I shake my head, but offer a partial truth. “Thank you for today.”
“Never again, okay? No more thanks. No more apologies.” He looks down at his left hand, then to mine, before returning his gaze to mine. “It’s done. There’s shit to figure out, but not about that.”
“First there’s shit to do, now there’s shit to figure out. I’m sensing a theme here.”
He squeezes my hand again and releases it, settling back into his crabmeat omelet and side of fruit. I sip my mimosa and enjoy the man in front of me enjoying his meal.
After heading home to change clothes, Ren made a couple of phone calls and we were off. First stop was in Colorado Springs to tell my mom we were married. The war of emotions dancing across my mom’s face at this announcement was brutal to watch.
Her joy at my “happiness.”
Her sadness at missing the wedding.
Her grief at a renewed loss of August.
There will be no wedding for him. No being the best man in his sister’s. It’s one more milestone she trudged across simply because she must. Time marched on when August could not.
She settled on happy, but it was happy with a damp towel over it. Better than resigned, I guess, but still hard for me to watch.
She bought the story we concocted, which wasn’t surprising given it’s the truth, only stretched. We reconnected recently and couldn’t wait to start our lives together after all the wasted time and missed opportunities.
Neither of us said anything about love, though our body language certainly speaks of trust and respect. It was an easy exaggeration that anyone could assume, and one we weren’t going to correct.
I promised to see her more and loaded into the SUV to continue the trek to Pueblo. I made it back to the highway before the flood of emotion hit me too.
I managed not to think of August when I stood before Ren and gave him my wedding vows.
I avoided thinking of the childhood image I’d conjured of the same.
The one in a chapel with August at Ren’s side.
A younger, more carefree Ren. All of us with fewer worries, safely nestled in a more idyllic setting.
The fantasy version of a young girl who hadn’t experienced the world.
Considering that… what could’ve been is a beautiful, yet painful alternate reality.
Somehow, when we were choosing our own adventure in the book, we turned the wrong page and ended up on rougher paths.
Ren certainly didn’t have it easy. The scars on his back are evidence of that.
August didn’t even make it to the end of the tale.
And I picked up the slack for both of us.
The fairytale became grim to say the least.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and solid, and he reached his hand for mine yet again. Mine slid into his like it was made to do so. I soaked in his warmth and strength, and for once, didn’t feel the need to fill the car with idle chatter.
The silence has been fine, not awkward or heavy, and he doesn’t make an effort to break it, allowing me the time in my head to sort through my emotions .
That comes to a screeching halt when we get to my rental house in Pueblo, only to discover it blockaded by a trio of motorcycles laden with bikers, each of them with their arms crossed, awaiting our arrival.
Ren’s head turns to me as mine does the same. The question in his eyes changes too quickly from challenge to assessment, and he stares back out the windshield while asking me, “Tell me quickly what I need to know.”
“The middle one is Heath, in case you don’t recognize him. Troy Smith is on the left and Junior Conyers on the right. All are carrying, but Junior prefers a knife. All have LEO connections. They were the witnesses at our wedding. And Heath has keys to the house.”
His gaze whips to mine, and I duck my chin, even though my voice is strong. “Not my choice, Ren.”
“Stay here.”
He exits the car and stands at the driver’s side front tire. His stance is wide and his arms fold over his broad chest. The trio opposite him suddenly look less formidable. In fact, they look like they’re trying to imitate him instead of intimidate him.
If I weren’t so worried, I’d settle for watching this standoff. Instead, I crack a window, hoping to pick up bits of the conversation where I can.
“… Ren Gallo. Who’s asking?”
Heath makes some comment and looks left to right at his boys as they all laugh.
Ren stiffens and stands taller, but gives one curt nod .
Heath continues, but his words don’t carry, making them impossible to hear.
I strain, fighting the mounting frustration of not knowing what’s happening mixed with the fear of what could happen when Heath discovers what we’ve done. His body language clearly articulates what I know of him. That doesn’t bode well for the situation.
Ren says nothing as Heath swings a leg from over his bike, walking to stand between the bikers and our vehicle. He gesticulates and paces and overall looks like he has no control over his emotions.
Ren, though, doesn’t seem to care. His military training is visible in his posture and demeanor. No matter that Heath has back-up and perceived authority in this town, everything from the outside indicates that he’s already lost this battle. He’s emotional, volatile, and reactive.
Ren is staid, watching and calculating. With no warning, he turns, slides back into the SUV and calmly buckles his seat belt. We drive away with none of my stuff and a stewing Ren who seethes all the way home.
I don’t know what I missed, and I hate not being able to soothe the bear, but he gave me silence on the way down. I give him the same as we head back to Denver.