Page 25 of Speak of the Devil

“Yes,” she replies at the end of a sigh, her eyes closing and her head dropping back like a weight on her neck.

There’s no way to save her house unless my financials are attached, and that couldn’t be gathered in time to help her. I understand her upset, the defeat overcoming her. I feel somewhat deflated as well, but I’m not sure it’s from the reality of us actually being married or her reaction to usbeingmarried. “I’ll try not to take your reaction personally, but damn, is it that bad being married to me?” I joke, hoping it lands the way it’s intended.

A small smile grows when she opens her eyes, but she’s still arching her brow at me. With a nudge to my arm, she laughs. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not.” I chuckle.

“For real,” she whines with that smile still shining. “What are we going to do?”

Her big eyes search mine for the answers neither of us has. Sadness permeates the inner golds of her irises, coating them with tears threatening to fall if I don’t do something to fix this once and for all. She deserves happiness, but I’m not sure we can save the house in time. Taking a risk that may not pay off, I waggle my brows. “We could take the honeymoon we never had.”

With a whack of her hand, she shakes her head and belts out laughter that travels across the lobby. “Shane, you’re the worst.” But I see the way her tears disappear, and joy takes over. Even if it’s only for a moment, I’ll take that reaction over the other.

With eyes on us, I know I can’t stand around for long before the paparazzi are called so someone can get a payday. “Hate to cut this short, but I need to get out of here before a scene is caused.”

She glances over her shoulder, suddenly in protective mode with a stiffening posture and ready to give the evil eye to anyone watching us. She’s fucking adorable but has no idea what she’s up against when it comes to my life. “Okay.” Turning back to me, she whispers, “Let’s talk outside.”

Pushing through the door, she slips in front of me when I stop to let her by. “I’ll make some calls about the—oh shit.” I duck back inside the building.

Cat tugs the door and returns after me. “What’s wrong?”

“Paparazzi.” Stupidly, I didn’t realize the implications and how the story could be twisted and sold for a premium. “Fuck. I’m going to be all over the internet before I get home.”

“The county clerk’s—oh no.” The reality of how this looks dawns in her eyes like a sunrise on the horizon. “I’m sorry for dragging you down here. They’re going to think you’re getting married.”

“Or it will inspire them to do a little research and find out I already am. To you.”Fuck. I’ve made her a target.What have Idone?“I need to get out of here, but I can’t take my car. It’s too obvious.”

“You can drive mine,” she offers without hesitation. “They’ll never expect to see you in my car. And I’m parked in the back lot, three aisles from the lamp post.”

“Alright. That’s what we’ll do.” Without having time to work through a plan, I start across the lobby back to Roberta. Cat is in tow, and as soon as we reach the window, she hands me her keys.

“Excuse me,” I say, cutting in front of a happy couple. Roberta does a double-take, but I have her attention. “I need to exit out the back.”

The guy next to me points his finger, though I’m only three inches from the dude. “Hey, you’re Shane . . . Um . . .” He snaps his fingers. “What’s your name again?”

Roberta hops off her stool, so tiny I can barely see her. “Last door down on the right. I’ll meet you there.”

My eyes only connect with Cat’s briefly before we’re on the move again. The door is opened, and Roberta waves us inside. “So you’re a celebrity?”

“He’s an incredible musician,” Cat says as if she’s paid PR.

I pause, watching my wife in wonder.She’s listened to Faris Wheel?A warmth stirs inside me as I look at her in a different way. “Thanks.”

Bumping into me, she plays it off. “Anytime.”

If I weren’t in such a hurry to get out of here, I’d be taking my time with her. But in this fucking life, time is stolen out from under us. I look at her hair hanging over her shoulders as her eyes exude the innocence of someone not exposed to my lifestyle. She’s too beautiful to be caught up in my life. The last thing I want to do is put her under the invasive microscope of the press. “Stay here. If I’m caught, it shouldn’t be with you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

I glance back, and though a smile still creases her cheeks, I can tell I’ve left her unsure of my intentions. I stop and turn back, whispering, “I don’t want them chasing you, digging into your life, or harassing you. That’s what they’ll do if they catch us together.” I almost touch her cheek, caress the innocence and trust she’s giving me through her eyes. I lower my hand for both of our sakes because this isn’t the time or place.

We reach the exit in the back of the office, and they stop while I push through the door, and then look back. “There’s a convenience store at the corner. I’ll wait for you there.”

“What about your car?” Cat asks, concern marring her forehead.

“Don’t worry about it. My manager will get it.” I step outside into the sunshine, but the blue sky can’t compete with the gorgeous golden browns of her irises. “I’ll see you soon.”

She waves as if it might be a final goodbye, that worry still dominant in her features. “Be careful.”

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