Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Are you going to be like this every year?”

I glanced up from the trolley of food that Dax had just wheeled into the kitchen. “Like what?” I asked him, tilting my head slightly.

Looking somewhat peeved, he replied, “Like a kid who’s on an IV of pure sugar.”

Uh, the truth? Yes. Yes, absolutely. Me plus Halloween equaled big-time regression.

Hence why I’d spent most of my day watching movies, carving pumpkins, making spooky-themed cookies, virtually touring a haunted house on my laptop, and even painting a ceramic skull like I routinely did with my sisters when younger.

I wasn’t used to celebrating Halloween alone. Dax was home, but he wasn’t keeping me company. He’d spent most of the day upstairs, leaving me to my own devices. Still, I’d enjoyed myself.

My level of excitement had kicked up a notch when the trick-or-treaters had finally started arriving—I loved seeing little ones in their costumes, all hyped up and smiley. More had showed than I’d initially expected, but fewer and fewer had appeared until eventually the numbers fizzled out even though the hour wasn’t late. But that was understandable since, being a Sunday, it was a school night.

“I did tell you I loved Halloween,” I reminded him.

“You failed to mention that you’d turn into someone I don’t know for the entire day.”

A snicker popped out of me. “What can I say? This holiday does funny things to me. And to my mom, actually. That’s just how it goes. Buckle up. This is your life now.”

He grumbled something beneath his breath, but I didn’t miss the spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Just think, Halloween will be over in a few hours.” I twisted my mouth as I contemplated whether to give him a heads-up that I was even worse at Christmas …

Nah.

“And thank God for that,” he muttered.

With a haughty look, I gestured at my Wednesday Addams outfit. “You’re just jealous because you so want one of these costumes.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice dry as the desert, “It’s been on my birthday list for decades.”

I felt my lips split into a smile. “Ooh, sarcasm suits you. I want to see more of this. You totally work it.”

Seemingly fighting an eye roll, he heaved a good-natured sigh.

He’d been gifting me with similar sighs ever since I shook up our villa’s décor with my Halloween decorations a few nights ago. The poor guy seemed to have expected me to merely hang up the occasional garland and maybe set out a few props. He hadn’t been prepared for the fake cobwebs, strings of pumpkin lights, hanging ghosts, plentiful amount of votive candles, or the plastic spiders I’d attached to the windows.

The singing cauldron hadn’t gone down well with him either. Or the fake cat skeletons. Or the spooky lanterns.

And when he’d walked outside the next morning to find several pumpkins, tombstones, and dismembered body parts in the front yard, he’d done a double-take.

I’d offered to take some, if not all, of the decorations down—both inside and outside. But he had shaken his head and said, “I can handle them for three days.”

He’d commented no more about the decorations. Except for the cauldron, which he’d threatened to trash if I didn’t permanently switch it off because he was “done” listening to a creepy voice repeatedly sing about a wicked witch being dead. I’d called him a whiner but had turned it off nevertheless.

“Let’s eat before our food gets cold.” He pulled the stainless steel covers off our plates, filling the air with the scents of hot meat, tomatoes, and garlic.

Fairly salivating, I dragged the yummy smells into my lungs. “I’m starving.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly be hungry when you’ve been stuffing candy down your throat practically all day.”

“Candy isn’t filling.” I grabbed my glass of wine from the counter. “You don’t need to put my plate on the table, I’m going to eat in the living room tonight.”

His brow creased slightly. “Why?”

“Because that’s where the TV is.”

“And?”

“And I’ve reached my it’s-horror-movie-time portion of the evening.”

Another self-suffering sigh. “Right.”

Even as I knew he’d turn the offer down, I suggested, “You should join me. Take a peek into my world. See how the TV can be used for more than merely watching live sports.”

Exasperation tinged with humor once more flickered in his gaze.

“Come on, it won’t be the worst thing ever. Or do you have a hate-on for scary flicks?”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind them. Though I’ve yet to watch one that is actually scary.”

Feeling my lips curve, I latched onto his wrist without thought. “Oh, my friend, some do exist, I swear. Allow me to educate you.”

Dax glanced down at where I’d wrapped my fingers around his wrist. Feeling awkward, I was about to release him. But then he twisted his hand, joined our palms, and tugged me closer. “What’s my incentive?” he asked, gently bumping the tip of his nose against mine.

I double-blinked at his unexpected move, my belly going all aflutter. “Uh, what?”

He loosely fisted the end of one of my braids. “I’m going to need an incentive,” he said, adopting his bedroom voice, conveying what the nature of the enticement would need to be.

My hormones perking right up, I said, “Fine, I’ll … um, I’ll ride you on the sofa when the movies are over.”

His gaze narrowed. “Movies plural?”

“Well, of course. I mean, it’s Halloween.”

“Funnily enough, I’d noticed,” he deadpanned.

Snorting, I rolled my eyes, not quite managing to bite back a smile. “Are you going to join me or not?”

Letting out a long hum, he idly curled my braid around his fist. “All right.”

I felt my lips part. “You will? Really? I thought you’d say no.”

“You only asked because you thought I’d decline?”

“No, I asked on the off-chance that—for once—you’d do your civic duty as my husband and watch TV with me.”

His mouth tipped up. “My civic duty?”

“Yes. You’ve neglected it thus far. You should really correct the oversight.”

He released my hair. “Hmm, then let’s wheel the trolley into the living room so I can get started on that.”

“Boom,” I said, delighted. “I’ll carry our glasses.”

I thought he’d sit apart from me, but he settled at my side on the sofa—our plates balanced on the cushions we placed on our laps. “Have you seen The Conjuring 2?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Prepare to be creeped the fuck out.” Using the remote control, I threw the movie onand then swiftly dug into my food.

We didn’t say much as we ate, both mostly focused on the movie. The combination of creepy music, jump scares, the ghost’s grating voice, and the weird-ass nun had tension gathering in my muscles.

Once I’d finished my meal, I put the plate on the coffee table in front of me and took a sip of my wine.

“What is it about this movie that scares you?” asked Dax, the confused note in his tone saying he simply didn’t get it.

I threw him a skeptical look. “I’ll bet my life your heartrate has gone up a time or two—no, don’t deny it; I won’t believe you.”

I set down my glass and turned my attention back to the rather intense scene playing out on the TV. I jumped ever so slightly at one part, and the idiot beside me started chuckling.

“Up yours,” I snarked, gently shoving his arm.

Smirking, he caught my offending hand and pulled, making my body slide to the side and fall against his, my head hitting his shoulder. “There. Stay.”

Utterly taken aback, I went motionless. My pulse, on the other hand, began skipping like crazy. Especially when he kept possession of my hand.

“The nun can’t get you now,” he mocked.

Asshole. Forcing my muscles to unclench, I sniffed. “Valak could totally take you.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Not sure if you’re paying attention, but it’s a demon. We’d be outclassed and outmatched.”

A pause. “We?”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t let you battle it alone. We have each other’s back at all times, remember?”

A long moment of silence passed, and then he gave my hand a little squeeze. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone slightly deeper. “Yeah, I remember.”

∞∞∞

Exiting my office building two days later, I shoved my purse strap a little further up my shoulder. I usually left work at five o’ clock on the dot—or as near to it as possible. Today, however, I’d been delayed a full twenty minutes due to a micromanaging client dragging out a phone call so they could nitpick and question my decisions.

Funsies.

I’d dealt with such clients before. While they wanted someone else to take over, they struggled with not managing every aspect. That dissatisfaction often translated into them finding faults and changing their mind on this or that to regain a sense of control.

Like those before him, this particular client had eventually conceded that all was going well. He’d basically just wanted to have his say—and he’d wasted my time in the process. Lovely.

Happy to finally be heading home, I started to cross the lot as I strode toward my car. I was halfway there when I noticed Grayden hovering close to it. Crap.

I hadn’t seen him since the evening he’d turned up at my home to advocate for Felicity and ask Dax to show her mercy. Right now, he didn’t look good. He was pale and sported dark circles under his eyes. Deep lines were carved into his face. His hair was unkempt and a little frizzy, not gelled down as usual.

I’d heard that one of his friends had passed away unexpectedly during the weekend, so that would account for his appearance. It didn’t explain why he was here, though. Unless … he wanted to talk to somebody else who’d lost someone close to them.

Inwardly, I sighed. Did it make me cruel that I wished he’d approached another person, such as one of his fellow grieving friends? Probably. But I didn’t appreciate that he thought he had the right to pop in and out of my life whenever he pleased. He’d been doing it since the day we’d first broken up—sometimes in person, sometimes via phone or email.

I’d thought it would stop once I married Dax. When Grayden recently dropped off my radar, it had seemed as though I was right to think so. But the current situation would suggest otherwise.

As I neared him, my train of thought faltered. Because when I got a good look at his expression, I saw that it wasn’t one of despair and devastation; wasn’t one of loss.

The dude was pissed.

Clutching the handles of my satchel, I slowed to a stop a few feet away from him. “What are you doing here?”

His posture stiff and his neck corded, Grayden fisted his hands. “A pact, Addie?” he practically spat. “You married Dax because of a pact?”

Everything in me stilled in shock. What the hell? There was no way he could have found out—none of the people in my circle would ever have blabbed the news to anyone, and I didn’t believe that any from Dax’s circle would have done so either.

And yet, somehow Grayden knew.

Going for clueless, I frowned and asked, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He hurled a look of utter exasperation at me. “Don’t bother playing dumb. I overheard Jagger and Maverick talking about it.”

Shit.

“I couldn’t understand why you’d marry Dax, it made no sense. But you know what?” Grayden leaned toward me, his eyes diamond hard. “Neither does this. Unless the pact is legally binding, which I very much doubt, you didn’t need to go through with it.”

I sighed. “Grayden—”

“Look, I know how much you want marriage and kids. But this is far from an answer to your problems. Jesus Christ, Addie, you’ve committed to a guy who feels nothing for you.”

A streak of pain lanced my windpipe. Indigestion. It was just indigestion.

“Trust me, there’s nothing easy about being tied to someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love you. I know that, because it’s where I am now in life.”

I felt my frown deepen. “You love Felicity—”

“I care about her, but I don’t love her the way I once did—and vice versa. We’re not together for the right reasons anymore.”

“The difference is … you didn’t marry her thinking that would ever be the case. You thought you’d get a happily ever after with her. I knew what I was walking into with Dax.”

“And it boggles my mind that you still did it,” he fairly bit out.

I bristled. “Not my issue. There’s no need for it to be yours. What I do doesn’t concern you.” I was getting damn tired of trying to get that message across to him.

“It shouldn’t. And I wish that it didn’t. But it does.” Torment swirled in his gaze. “I don’t want this for you. I want you to have what I don’t. It goddamn hurts to see that you gave up on finding something meaningful and settled for an arranged marriage.”

“So you thought you’d track me down and tell me to leave Dax?”

Grayden grimaced. “I’m not here to push you to divorce him. I’d be the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world if I urged you to walk away from a weak relationship—I sure as shit haven’t left mine. But I would have if it wasn’t for my daughters, Addie. So before you go having babies with Dax, think real hard about whether you want to trap yourself in an empty marriage that way.” He stalked off, marching straight to his vehicle.

With a silent curse, I hopped into my own. Plonking my purse and satchel on the passenger seat, I let a long breath slip out of me. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would hear about the pact—let alone Grayden, of all people.

He probably wouldn’t spread the news to others. I honestly couldn’t be sure. We weren’t exactly chums these days.

I reversed out of the parking space just as he sped out of the lot. Would I care if he did some gossiping? Yes and no. While neither Dax nor I required the approval of others, I’d rather he wasn’t the subject of gossip all over again. Christ knew he’d had enough of that growing up.

I also didn’t want to deal with people constantly asking if it was true and offering their opinion on it. Moreover, I didn’t want some deeming our marriage emotionally invalid due to it not being a love match.

Another thing I definitely didn’t want was for women who coveted him to feel they didn’t need to respect the vows that he and I had made to each other. But if they felt the marriage wasn’t “real,” they might. That could lead to them thinking they were free to make moves on him.

Not that I believed he’d snap up any of those offers. I just didn’t want them being thrown at him in the first place. I doubted any wife would, arranged marriage or not.

Driving home, I chewed on all Grayden said. I had to admit that, if the situation were reversed, I might have had the same thoughts he did. I wouldn’t have sought him out to express them, but I probably would have felt sad that he was heading down the same sad road I had. Except … that wasn’t really the case because, as I’d tried explaining to him, our situations were entirely different.

He’d married for love. I hadn’t.

I still didn’t harbor any regrets about honoring the pact. If that ever changed and I felt the urge to dissolve the marriage, that was what I would do—children or no children. But then … it was easy for me to say that now, wasn’t it? Really, it would be hard to break up a family that way.

I wasn’t sure if it was always best for children to live with both parents if it meant they grew up in a negative environment, but I supposed it depended on the situation. There might not be a right or wrong answer, whatever the case.

The truth was that I wouldn’t really know exactly what I’d do in such a scenario unless I came to that bridge. All I could do was hope I never did.

When I finally arrived home, I found Dax in the pool. From the patio doorway, I watched him cover the length of the pool with strong, confident laps, his muscles tautening and rippling. He was so at home in the water he was like a damn fish.

I padded outside, careful not to stand in any of the wet footprints—the last thing I wanted was to go ass over tit. Spotting me, he slowed to a smooth stop. I flashed him a smile. “Hey, Nemo. How’s the water?”

Standing upright, he swiped a hand down his wet face and narrowed his eyes on me. “What’s wrong?”

Ugh. He read me far too well. “A little something went down that I figured you’d want to know about. It’s nothing terrible. Just irritating.”

Raising an expectant brow, he came toward me.

I poked the inside of my mouth with my tongue. “I bumped into Grayden.”

Dax’s eyelids lowered slightly. “Bumped into him?”

I felt my nose wrinkle as I jiggled my head a little. “Well, it was more that he was waiting near my car when I left work.”

His jaw hardened. “What did he say?”

“He made it clear that he found out about our pact and wanted to express his thoughts on it.” I gave a wan smile. “Apparently, he overheard Jag and Maverick talking about it.”

“Let me guess,” began Dax, the words smooth as butter but carrying an undercurrent of something dark, “Grayden felt compelled to convince you to leave me.”

“No, he basically just wanted to communicate that he feels I made a mistake and he worries that my future might one day be his present circumstance.”

“Which means what?”

“He isn’t with Felicity for the right reason; he’d leave their relationship if it wasn’t for their daughters. He feels there’s a strong chance I’ll one day want to exit this marriage but will feel trapped in it by a wish to ensure my children aren’t raised in a broken home.”

Dax pinned me with a probing look. “And what is your view on that?”

“He’s not seeing that the two situations aren’t the same. He and Felicity married for love, later fell out of love, and then wanted a divorce. That can’t happen to you and me, because we married for different reasons and we’re not relying on a sweet, fluffy emotion to keep us together. I’m not saying we might not ever find ourselves unhappy in this marriage—no one knows what the future holds—just that it isn’t the same.”

“So he didn’t pressure you to divorce me, but he put an idea in your head that might make you consider it,” Dax mused, the words again smooth but dangerous.

I pulled a face. “I don’t think that was his intention. He’s mad at me for deliberately putting myself in a situation that he resents being stuck in. Only, as I said a second ago, my situation isn’t like his—he just doesn’t see that.”

“Hmm,” Dax said, unconvinced. He planted his hands on the side of the pool and easily clambered out. “Did he say anything else?”

Watching the rivulets of water drip down his delicious body as he crossed to me, I cleared my throat. “No. That was it. The whole thing was over with fast, and it was very low-key in terms of drama. He probably wouldn’t have approached me at all if he wasn’t a mess over other things. I only mentioned it because I knew you’d want to know.”

Dax’s nostrils flared. “You’re going to ask me to let this be because you feel bad for him,” he correctly guessed.

I nibbled on my lower lip. “He’s grieving the loss of his friend. People aren’t always thinking straight when they’re grieving. We know that well, don’t we?”

Dax averted his gaze, a muscle in his cheek flexing.

“Look, if he’d caused a huge scene, it would be different. But he didn’t yell, didn’t touch me, didn’t toss out insults, didn’t talk smack about you, didn’t encourage me to sign divorce papers. He just expressed a very misguided opinion and then left.”

Finally, Dax’s gaze returned to mine, darkly intense. “There’s no need for him to have a fucking opinion on this—he has no relevance to you, me, or our marriage. Where he gets off on the idea that he’s so important his thoughts need to be communicated to you, I have no clue.”

I nodded. “He had no right or reason to do or say what he did, I know. But he’s in pain, it’s—”

“Not my concern,” Dax finished, a rough note to his tone. “You’re my concern, Addison. And I don’t like that he was lurking outside your place of work. He shouldn’t have cornered you that way; shouldn’t have set out to get you alone. That shit is not acceptable.”

“No, it isn’t. But he likely wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t blocked his number.”

“I wouldn’t have been okay with him contacting you no matter how he did it—via phone, via email, via fucking pigeon post. He’s supposed to leave you alone. He promised you no contact, and he isn’t delivering on that promise. Far from it.”

I exhaled heavily. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Would you?” he challenged. “Would you ignore that one of my exes—or anyone, for that matter—approached me the way he did you?”

“No,” I admitted on a mumble. “No, I’d want to rip them a new one. I would rip them a new one.”

“Then you should get it. You only feel sympathy for him because you still have feelings for him, but that’s not—”

“What?” I burst out, my head flinching. “Whoa, backup. You’re way off base there.” I took a step closer to him, holding his gaze. “Dax, I swear to you, I feel nothing for him. Nothing.”

His eyes searched mine, broody and piercing. “Then why care how I handle this?”

I licked my lips, feeling my shoulders droop. “Because I said and did things I’m not proud of when I was grieving. I got a little lost. I was mad at everyone. At life. At the universe.”

I’d steadily become someone that I didn’t like. If it hadn’t been for the support of my friends and family, I might have continued to grow bitter and resentful. “People were more understanding than I deserved. They made allowances and gave me leeway and were so incredibly patient with me.

“I don’t know if you can relate to any of that. I don’t know how it was for you when you lost Gracie. But there has to have been at least one occasion when you fucked up but were fortunate enough to have someone overlook it when you needed them to.”

The anger in his eyes wavered, faltering in its intensity. “You really think I could overlook what Grayden did?”

“No. But maybe you could just settle for verbally warning him not to do it again?” I suggested. Moments of agonizing silence ticked by as Dax stared down at me, so many thoughts and emotions working behind his eyes.

“One,” he finally bit out. “I’ll give him one warning. But if anything like this happens again, I won’t settle for handling it with words, Addison. I will deal with it how I fucking please.”

I gave a slow nod. “Understood. Thank you for—”

“Don’t thank me. Don’t think I feel one bit sorry for him. I don’t care what’s happening in his life. Like I said before, he’s not my concern. You are.”

“Just as you’re my concern,” I assured him. “So I get it. I’m not thanking you for his sake. I’m thanking you because I appreciate that you put my feelings first.”

“Where he’s concerned, I won’t do it again. I won’t allow him to flit in and out of the picture, like what you want and need doesn’t matter. Like you being married to me doesn’t matter.” Dax’s eyes flared with intensity. “It fucking matters. It’s going to matter every day for the rest of your life, because I’m always going to be part of it. He needs to understand that. And I will get that through his head one way or the other. What measures I need to take to ensure that will all be down to him.” Dax then strode away.