“It’s not your fault,” I say, trying to ease the concern in his eyes.

“Maybe not directly . . . but I made you color outside of your perfectly constructed lines . . . do something against your nature, and look what happened. I’m so sorry. I wish I could make this right,” he says, dropping his head as he shakes his head in defeat. “All I can try to do is mitigate the damage. That’s it.” He throws his hands up. “It’s killing me because I can’t fix this.” The break in his voice and the tension in his body would have told me everything I needed to know even if he hadn’t uttered a sound.

I look at my achingly handsome husband, so distraught, so desperate to make wrongs right that aren’t his to be held responsible for. And seeing him as upset as I am makes me feel a little better and allows me to dig into the deep well of emotion. I finally find the words I need and want to tell him. The decisions I came to last night when I sat on the deck and considered the life-altering situation we were in.

“Stop. Please quit beating yourself up over this. I don’t blame you.” I pause, my teeth worrying my bottom lip as I put words to my thoughts and wait for him to hear that last sentence. “Thank you for giving me space last night. At first I was pissed at you . . . just because you are the one here to lash out at. But the longer I sat and thought, I realized that more than anything, my fury is aimed at whoever did this. They took a moment between the two of us and made it something for others to judge and ridicule.”

Colton pulls on our hands so the chair I’m sitting in rolls toward him. He leans forward, our faces inches apart, and looks into my eyes. “No one knows us. No one understands why our relationship works but us. I know the real you, Rylee Jade Thomas Donavan. They don’t have a clue how fucking incredible you are. Only I get the privilege of knowing you like ice cream for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. I’m the only one who gets to know that when you scream and rage you get that little crease in your forehead that’s so fucking adorable. I love that you love those boys like they are your life and would never do a goddamn thing to hurt them. I know you’re disciplined and modest and hate coloring outside the lines, but that you do sometimes just for me. The fact that you do means the world to me. And more than anything, I love that you raced me even when I didn’t have any wheels on the fucking track.”

His words hit me and wrap around my heart like a bow on a package that’s wrapping is tattered and torn. They crawl into my soul and take hold because they are exactly what I need to hear to reinforce the love I have for him. My gruff, arrogant husband can be the man I need him to be when I need it the most and that says volumes for what I mean to him.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips so tender it makes me adore him more. When he leans back he rests his forehead against mine, our noses touch, his exhale my next breath, and I feel a bit steadier even though nothing’s changed.

“We’ll get through this, Ry. Just like we have before. Just like we always will. What we have between us,” he says, voice thick with emotion as he pauses to find the words, “is a beautiful thing.”

“A beautiful thing is never perfect,” I murmur.

“You’re right. We’re far from perfect. We’re perfectly imperfect.”

If I wasn’t already madly in love with my husband, that two-word description would win me over. It reinforces the arrow shot through my heart. Words I used once to describe him have now come back to represent exactly what we are as a couple. And the fact he realizes, accepts, and acknowledges it, makes it that much more meaningful.

“You’re right,” I say with a shaky voice. He presses a kiss to my nose and leans back, hands smoothing my messy hair out of my face before holding my face in his hands so I can see the intention in his eyes.

“I promise you, I will find out who did this and make them pay.” His statement means a lot to me but I know even if he does find them, the damage is done. We’ll never be able to get those images, the privacy of that moment back, and so I just nod my head in response.

“I need to talk to the older boys about this somehow.” Although I’m at a loss for words of what exactly I’m going to say to them. Everyone but Auggie is a teenager. Teenagers and their long-reaching fingers into social media will find out about this. The thought makes my heart fall.

“No, you don’t.” He scrubs the towel through his hair and shakes his head like I’m crazy.

“Some of the pictures splashed all over the Internet are of them, Colton. Of course I have to.” A tinge of hysteria laces the edges of my anger. “Kids at school are going to talk. They need to hear it from me. Have to. I can’t let them think I’m some kind of . . .” My voice trails off as I try to figure out what exactly I think they are going to think of me now.

“Ry, listen to me. They love you. You don’t have to say any—”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll speak to them,” he states matter-of-factly, causing my head to whip up at the response since I know how uncomfortable he is with that kind of thing.

“You what?”

“You’re not leaving the house right now with the press out there. I’m not letting them take pictures of you to have fodder for their lies. They can have me . . . let them vilify me. Not you. No way.” I’m shocked by his words and yet shouldn’t be. “Chase is issuing a statement to the press for us. Hopefully that will help all of this die down.”

“Mm-hmm.” I must look at him like a doe in the headlights because as much as I know this will die down, people will forever know what I look like naked. That’s not an easy thing to swallow. Not now. Not ever.

And even when Chase issues that statement, it will do very little to dim the sparkle of the sensationalism.

“I’ve got to go take a shower. Then I’m going to work from home the rest of the week,” he says as he rises from his seat, his comment causing my stomach to churn in anxiety.

“I have my shift tomorrow,” I say, suddenly realizing reality needs to continue amid this storm of chaos. “Can you and Sammy figure out how to get me out of here so I can get there?”

The minute his body stills, I know a fight’s coming. He doesn’t disappoint but goes straight for the kill. “Dr. Steele called this morning.” I’m immediately irritated and defensive before he even says another word. I feel like he’s been waiting to make this point. Inwardly I groan because that means he knows about my blood pressure issues.

“Yes?” I say nonchalantly even though inside I’m already preparing for World War Donavan.

“The way I see it, you’re staying home tomorrow.”

“That’s bullshit!” He just quirks an eyebrow to say try me.

“Well, seems to me she called to check on you. Said she was worried about your blood pressure . . . with all of this.” I avert my eyes to my hands folded in my lap.

“I’m fine.” I nod my head with a forced smile on my lips in hopeful reassurance.

“That’s not what she said,” he says, making said blood pressure feel as though it is rising.

“Colton, I’m going to work tomorrow, with or without your help. If you want my blood pressure to stay low, you’ll help,” I fire back, lips pursed, eyebrows raised. Two can play this game. We stare at each other, both daring the other to back down but neither budging.

“Exactly. I’ll help. I’ll go instead and talk to the boys about it,” he lifts his eyebrows, “while you stay here.”

“Don’t push me on this,” I warn.

His chuckle fills the room. “That’s rich, Donavan,” he says with a shake of his head as he walks toward the door. “I need to take a shower but this discussion is over.”

I snort in response. He stops abruptly, back still to me when he speaks. “I love the boys, Rylee. More than you know. I said I’d never come between you and them . . . but you, and that baby of ours you’re carrying, are my first priority. Numero Uno. You’d better start making both of them yours too, or we’re going to have a huge fucking problem. End of discussion.” And he doesn’t even give me a chance to pick my jaw up off the floor to respond before he waltzes out of the office, tossing, “Don’t look at the computer anymore either,” over his shoulder.

Staring at the empty doorway, I’m not quite sure what to think so I lean back in the chair and blow out a slow and steady breath to calm myself. Colton’s never said anything like that to me before, and while everything he just said holds serious merit, I’m still astounded he said it. And while a small part of me warms, knowing he wants to take care of me, a larger part is irritated he’s laying down the law. The irony.

It doesn’t mean I have to abide by it though.

I look toward the ceiling and close my eyes momentarily. The many things I need to do run through my head, but I can’t do any of them because I can’t leave my house, can’t carry on my life like normal. I’m stuck here and that thought alone makes me feel claustrophobic.

I’m exposed to the world but trapped in my house.

Feeling defeated, my eyes flutter open to see the beach beyond the windows down below. And for the first time since we’ve met, I truly understand why Colton finds such refuge in his beloved beach—the crash of the waves, the feel of the sand beneath his feet, and the sense he’s this tiny blip on Mother Nature’s radar.

A soft chuckle falls from my lips as it hits me. On the beach, he feels inconsequential. How very fitting for a man who once told me I would never be that to him to have the need to feel that way at times.

My mind shifts back to that place and time. A ghost of a smile turns up my lips of the welcome memory of the Merit Rum party: dancing in the club followed by him chasing me into the hallway. Angry words. Contemptuous kisses. Hungry eyes. An elevator ride to the penthouse with a promised threat to decide. Yes. Or. No.

I find comfort in the memory. Without that night, there most likely wouldn’t be this. No Colton. No baby on the way. No chaos to want to hide from.

My eyes are drawn back to the beach. To the temptation of Colton’s place to escape. Sadly, right now, I couldn’t escape down there if I wanted to. At least he can get on his board and paddle out beyond the break to get some distance from the photographers. I’m not so lucky.

What I’d give to be inconsequential right now.

And yet deep down, no matter how hard I try, I know I will never be that to Colton. He’d never allow it. My handsome, complicated, and very stubborn husband takes too much pride in the two things he never thought he’d have—a wife and her love—to ever let me feel inconsequential again.


“GRAB A BEER, BOYS.”