Page 9 of The Oath Operation

Jules couldn't stay in the room with Fish. Not after she'd done all thenoticingof him moments ago.Instead, she excused herself and followed behind Amari.

The hospital was a hive of activity, the beeping of machines and hushed conversations filling the air. She hurried after her—what was he to her now? Was he still her fiancé if he was encouraging her to marry another man—even in a fake marriage?

"Amari, wait," she called, catching up to him as he strode down the corridor, his white coat billowing behind him.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What is it, Jules? I’m really busy right now."

"I need to talk to you about what just happened back there," she said, lowering her voice as they walked side by side. "Are you really okay with me marrying another man?"

Amari’s eyes darted around the bustling hallway, his expression wary. "Not here," he muttered, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a quieter hallway. "I don’t want anyone at the hospital to know about this."

They stood in the dimly lit hallway, the muted sounds of the hospital echoing around them. Amari's grip on her hand was firm but impersonal, and Jules couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Part of her wished he’d pull her into a dark room and kiss her, show her some of the passion she longed for. But he had never shown that kind of fervor. Not in the nearly three years that they'd been dating.

"I just... I want to make sure you’re okay with this."

He couldn't be okay with this. If their roles were reversed, she certainly wouldn't be okay with him marrying another woman to get his inheritance. No, because she would've agreed to marry him.

"Jules, I think it's a great idea for you and Fish to marry to get the money for your bakery," Amari said, his voice low and pragmatic. "But I still believe you should let the business go and be smarter about it. Selling your recipes to major stores would be much more practical."

Jules balked, her eyes widening in disbelief. Not this again.

"It's your decision in the end, but you have to think long term. Your health, your future. This could be a more sustainable way to use your talents."

Before she could respond, her diabetes monitor beeped, the sound sharp and insistent. It was the only sound more annoying than his pager. A wave of frustration washed over her. Stress was not her friend as a diabetic, and this conversation was doing her no favors. She felt her blood sugar spike, a familiar sensation that made her heart race and her head feel foggy.

Amari frowned, his expression turning stern as he glanced at the monitor on her arm. The small screen flashed a warning, indicating that her blood sugar was climbing rapidly. The numbers were higher than they should be, a clear sign that the stress of their conversation was pushing her levels out of control.

"Jules, you need to be more careful about your levels. You can’t let them get out of control like this." Amari reached for her arm, his fingers brushing against the monitor as he inspected the readings more closely.

Jules clenched her jaw, trying to steady her breathing. The last thing she needed was a lecture right now. She knew her body well enough to recognize when her blood sugar was fluctuating, and the stress of this confrontation was undeniably a contributing factor. She could feel the telltale signs: the slight tremor in her hands, the sudden surge of heat in her cheeks, the tightening in her chest.

"Your blood sugar is high, but not high enough for an insulin shot. You need to drink some water and take a walk to help flush out the excess glucose."

She knew he was right. She reached for the water bottle he handed her, the cool plastic pressing against her palm, and unscrewed the cap. The first sip was a relief, washing away some of the dryness in her throat. The relief wasn't instant. A light walk would do that, but she wasn't ready to walk away from this conversation.

She searched Amari's gaze for some sign of passion, some spark that showed he understood the depth of her feelings. But his eyes remained practical, detached, darting occasionally to his pager.

"I have to go. We’ll talk more later, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, watching him walk away.

Another alert sounded. This time it was from her purse. Jules fished out her phone, then moaned as she saw Jacqui's picture profile pop up on her phone screen. Jules didn't need to answer her phone to know why her sister was calling.

The blood sugar monitor came with an app—an app that family members could have access to whenever her levels were off. All her life, Jules had kept a stringent watch on her numbers, less for her physical health and more for her mental health. Anytime her numbers were out of whack, her big sister was the first to call.

Jules tapped out a text message to Jacqui that she was fine. But the numbers on her monitor were being stubborn and calling her a liar. She was still keyed up from Fish's proposal, Amari's apathy, and now her sister's hovering.

Amari's tendency to not treat her like a frail thing was one of the things Jules had liked so much about him. He never hovered over her. But was that because he simply made a lot of the decisions and expected her to go along with them? It was the source of most of their arguments, including the one today.

Her mind drifted back to Fish. She’d seen the fire in his eyes when he volunteered to marry her to save the bakery. The man who had always been so quiet and passive had revealed a side of himself she hadn’t seen before—the warrior he used to be, willing to fight for her dreams. It had made her heart race. She’d had plenty of people fuss over her throughout her life, but she had never had anyone stand up as her champion. Fish had done that without hesitation, even with a wounded hand.

She wished it was Amari who was rising as her champion, who looked at her with the same intensity and belief. But he was already gone, helping to save someone else's life.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She loved Amari, but his practicality sometimes felt like a cage confining her dreams and passions. Whereas Fish had just offered her the keys to fly free. With that thought, Jules knew what she was going to do.

ChapterSeven

Standing in the ruined bakery, Fish watched as the workers got started on the scarred remains. Crowbars dug into burned plywood, walls crumbled, and debris fell. Fish flexed his injured hand, eager to lend it to the reconstruction. The bandages irritating his skin halted that idea. He’d had worse scraps during his time in the military, patched up hastily in the field. The pretty and precise stitches Amari gave him felt like a mockery. A part of him wanted to rip them out, but he resisted, knowing it would only make things worse.

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