Page 29 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Con: Made it through surgery. In a medically induced coma but alive. Surgeon is confident he stopped the brain bleed and is cautiously optimistic that he’s going to pull through. It’s a waiting game from here.

Not the news I wanted to hear but it’s better than the alternative.

Me: That’s good. Any news on the ATM footage?

Con: The federal judge in charge of reviewing the case and granting the subpoena is being a dickface. He’s insisting on reviewing every shred of evidence—witness statements, first responder reports… he isn’t going to allow the release of the footage until he’s satisfied it’s warranted, which is likely to take weeks. He hasn’t come right out and said it but he’s worried if he rushes things and grants the subpoena, he’ll be accused of being just another judge, rolling over for a billionaire scumbag.

Even though I know it’s shitty of me, I’m relieved. The longer it takes, the longer I have to spend with Kait.

Con: Just hang tight. As soon as I have news, I’ll reach out.

Translation: Don’t call me, I’ll call you.

That’s fine with me too. As long as Brian Maxwell is alive, I can wait on the rest.

As promised,the concierge appeared with everything on Kait’s list from the drugstore about an hour after she went downstairs, along with something I asked for on impulse.

“I hope they’re to your liking, sir,” the concierge—whose name is Jerard—says while pulling a small black box from the inside breast pocket of his suit. “You said simple, but?—”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I tell him while taking the box from him. Even though I want to open the box and look at them, I don’t want to do it in front of him. “I don’t have to remind you that you signed an NDA?—”

“Sir.” Poor Jerard looks like I just spit on his mother. “Your grandfather hired me himself for my discretion. I serve this hotel and the family who owns it. I would never, under any circumstances, betray your trust.” Smoothing his hands over the front of his suit jacket, he gives me a nod that says the matter is settled. “Is there something else I can do for you? Perhaps have Chef Bravebird prepare a celebratory dinner or?—”

I should’ve known he’d figure it out.

“I need you to marry us.” It comes out of nowhere and surprises the hell out of both of us. “I have someone lined up but with everything that’s going on with me in the press, I think the fewer people who know?—”

“It would be my honor,” Jerard gives me a slight bow. “Getting ordained is a simple matter, these days. When would you like to hold the ceremony? Might I suggest Saturday? It would give us time to?—”

“No.” I shake my head. “Today. We want to do it today.”

Now Jerard looks like I spit on his motherandkicked his puppy. “Sir, if given a little more time to prepare, I can?—”

“No guests. No flowers. No cake.” I shake my head again. “Right here. Just you, her, and me—as soon as the marriage license gets here.”

Jerard’s carefully schooled expression wavers slightly. “Have we taken into consideration what the young lady might want?” he asks as delicately as possible.

Shit.

When I don’t answer him, Jerard’s expression softens slightly. “Perhaps we can meet in the middle. Your family’s rooftop gardens are beautiful this time of yearandclosed to guests. If you’ll allow me to?—”

“Okay.” I give him a jerky nod, ready to concede. “As long as whatever you do can be done in a few hours and without anyone knowing.”

“Absolutely, sir.” Jerard beams at me like I just gave him the keys to the kingdom. “Now, would you happen to know your suit measurements?”

Suit? I told Kait to buy something nice to get married in but neglected to think about the same for myself. As much as she seems to love seeing me in a pair of sweats, I don’t think she’d appreciate getting dressed up, just to find me waiting for her at the altar in a pair of them.

“48 long.”

“Excellent.” Jerard gives me another wide smile. “If that would be all, I should like to get to work on preparations.” When I give him a nod, Jerard offers me another slight bow before making his way to the elevator. As soon as he’s gone, I open the small black box he handed me.

The rings inside are simple, as promised. Platinum—mine a simple wide band. Kait’s a delicate eternity band, encrusted with diamonds. Satisfied that it’ll do for now, I snap the box closed and slip it into the pocket of my jeans, just as my cell phone starts to ring on the coffee table behind me.

I move to pick it up only to stall out when I see my brother’s name on my call screen. Giving brief consideration to letting him dump into voicemail, I decide against it. Might as well get it over with.

“Took you long enough.” I figured one of the hands would find her mother’s car, left at the front gate, with the keys in the seat and inform Damien hours ago.

“Bring her back.” No greeting. No pleasantries. We’re obviously past that.

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