“I haven’t,” he assures me. “It’s bagged in the upstairs spare bedroom. Go look, baby. I’ll go open a bottle of wine.” He standsand pulls me to my feet and kisses me before he reaches for his pants.
I smile again, excitement bubbling over as I highjack his shirt that I’m still wearing and take off for the bedroom door, and hurry through the apartment, still not taking time to enjoy the luxurious living room. It takes me about two minutes to climb the winding stairs and run down a hallway to enter the walk-in closet. I flip on the light and butterflies flutter in my belly at the sight of the garment bag. Hurrying forward, I unzip the bag. My heart in my throat, silly nerves fluttering all over in my belly for no reason at all. Once the zipper is down, I don’t pull the dress fully from the bag, but I don’t have to. I stare in wonder, a stunning white gown that is simple elegance accented by tiny butterflies in the lace. Butterflies that to many cultures, and to me, mean hope and a positive future but they hold another meaning to many that somehow feels all the more appropriate: resurrection. The resurrection of our love. Everything else fades away but this man and our wedding, images of me in this dress, and Grayson handsome in his tuxedo. And the tree that we’ve decorated together in the background, symbolic of many more years together to come.
My heart squeezes and I zip it back up, before rushing from the closet and the room in search of Grayson. I find him in the kitchen behind the shiny gray marble island, filling two wine glasses, the television over the island playing the news. It’s something he always does, like a habit. He turns on the news when he’s in the kitchen. It’s this familiar part of our life that warms me all the more. I missed these moments when he’s just being himself when we’re just sharing our lives, living life.
I hurry to his side and wrap my arms around him, this man who is my Prince Charming.
“It’s still the dress and you’re still the man. There was never going to be another man.”
“And there was never going to be another woman,” he says, cupping my face. “You’re home, Mia, and that home is with me. Forever.”
“Forever,” I whisper, and when his mouth comes down on mine, it really is like I’m finally home. I’m where I belong. With him.
He offers me one of the wine glasses and once he picks up his glass, we’re about to toast when the newscaster says, “We have breaking news. There’s been an explosion in a New Jersey residential home with a fire that is now threatening nearby residences. While firefighters work to stop the blaze and contain the damage, we’re getting word that the home belongs to an attorney named Brian Johnson.”
My heart skips a beat and bile rises in my throat. Grayson and I set down our glasses because we both know who Brian Johnson is. Without a word, Grayson snakes his phone from his pocket and dials a number. And I know why. We both know who was in that house tonight and I pray that Eric and Blake’s team were out before the explosion.
Chapter seventy-six
Grayson
Idial Eric only to have his voicemail pick up and it’s like a punch in the gut followed by a blade. Next up, I dial Blake. Again, I get his voicemail. I’m bleeding out here with the idea that something happened to Eric, and Blake and his team. I try Adrian, who answers on the first ring. “Tell me they weren’t in that explosion.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about and no, I haven’t been drinking. I just really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The house Eric went to with your team exploded and no one is answering their fucking phones.”
“Say what?”
“I said—”
“Fuck,” he grunts as if my words have only now hit him. “Fuck. I’m making calls. And I’m sending Axe up to stay with you until I know what the hell is going on. Don’t go anywhere.” He hangs up.
“Grayson?” Mia asks, watching me as I apparently pace on the opposite side of the island I don’t even remember walking to now.
I force myself to halt and will myself to calm down. “No one’s answering their phones, baby. Adrian didn’t even know the house had blown up.” I dial Blake again.
“I’ve got Kara’s number,” Mia says. “I’m calling her.”
She darts around the island and I catch her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“My phone’s by the door in my purse.”
“Axe is coming up. You need to put on clothes. And don’t answer the door. I’ll do it.”
She steps close and wraps her arms around me. “It’s going to be okay. This is Eric. He’s a SEAL. He’s a genius, quite literally.”
“He’s still human. He still blows up in an exploding house like the rest of us.”
She kisses my jaw. “He’s going to be okay. I feel it in my gut. I’m going to go try Kara and try to get you some news.” She pushes away from me.
I dial Davis and he answers in one ring. “Tell me you’ve heard from Eric.”
“Not for hours. Why?”
“He went to that attorney’s house with Blake’s team tonight. It exploded and he’s not answering his phone. None of them are.” I run my hand through my hair. “Where are you?”
“At home.”