Page 114 of The Billionaire's Bride

"At least, I know who I am," he mutters.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." He smirks. "I’ve never shied away from what I am. I wear my proclivities on my sleeve."

"That wife of yours needs to have her head examined for staying with you," I snipe.

Saint’s features freeze, and for a second, I am sure he’s going to explode. Probably drive over and bash my face in, which I deserve, considering I had broken the only rule… One I had repeatedly violated during my interactions with them since I’d returned… Wives and significant others, including kids, are off the table when we speak to each other. Specifically, when we insult each other. I had just broken the rule again… So, what’s new?

The rest of the Seven threaten…and posture, but with the exception of Edward, they all conform, one way or the other. It’s only me and Ed who'd tried to forge a different path to cope with the aftermath of the incident. We were hurt the most and we’d lashed out at life… At ourselves. Then at each other. And look where that has gotten us. In a mess I am still trying to make sense of.

"Apologize." Saint’s features are hard. "You’re not yourself, so I understand why you said something you didn’t mean. Say you’re sorry, you piece of shit."

I stare at Saint.Whoa? What? No raging and tearing things up? No threats of punishments…? He isn’t coming over to physically beat the shit out of me? Something which I had actually been looking forward to, if I am being honest.Nothing like being able to use my fists, to be able to let off steam. Of course, I could walk in next door and fuck my woman… I shake my head. Not yet. She isn’t mine yet.She came to you, remember? She wants you. This time, she chose you…But hell, if a part of me inside, still can’t believe it.

Just like I can’t believe Saint—motherfucking—Caldwell is ready to forgive me for my error of judgment.

"I’m sorry," I say through gritted teeth. "You’re right; I didn’t mean it."

"You’re angry." He nods, "It’s understandable."

"I apologized, didn’t I?" I growl. "You don’t have to pretend to get what I am going through."

"Oh, but we do," Weston says, his voice soft. "If we, the alphaholes who’ve been brought to our knees by the right women, don’t get what you’re going through, then who can?"

"That why you called me up at—" I glance at my watch, "four in the morning?" I smirk. "Thought you guys had your families and stuff to take care of."

"That’s what we are doing." Damian’s smile widens.

"What?" I frown.

"Taking care of family, you turd," Saint growls.

"I…ah..." My throat closes and a pressure builds behind my eyes. "The hell are you guys trying to say?"

"Want us to spell it out?" Sinner sighs, "Fine, you are our family, you tosser. We are each other’s family. We have been since the incident and you know it, and you have been fighting it."

"No, I have not." I scowl.

"Yes, you have." Saint nods. "Edward was the stubborn one, but you were the sensitive one."

"Sensitive?" I laugh, "You guys been drinking…? Oh, wait," I pretend to think, "you guys don’t do that anymore, now that you are the responsible ones."

"Nice try," Arpad smirks, "but you can’t distract us."

"None of us realized how much you had been hurt," Weston picks up the narrative. "If we had any indication just how much you and Edward had been impacted…"

"It’s done; it’s behind us," I say through gritted teeth.

"Is it?" Weston, tilts his head. "Edward managed it by joining the priesthood, and it was there for him when he needed it most. However, he eventually realized just how much of a crutch it was, and opted out. He’s still trying to find his mooring, and that’s okay. He’s already started on the journey. But you?" He shakes his head, "You have your destination in front of you, but refuse to recognize it."

"If this is about Ava—"

"Of course, it is about Ava, you toff," Sinner growls. "We know that she left Edward."

"And that she came to you last night," Damian murmurs.

I glare at them. Not a surprise that they know she’s here. Much as I’d like to deny it, the Seven of us are up in each other’s business. Put the wives and girlfriends into the mix, and well… You have communication pinging back and forth faster than a ball at a Wimbledon tennis match. Ava must have, no doubt, spoken to one of the women, and that would have alerted the entire network to what’s happening.