Page 228 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Yeah.” He reaches over and pats my hand. “Two years. Five years. Ten years. Whenever you want, I’m happy to do it.”

“Ten years,” I grumble, opening my menu. “I want to be done having kids by thirty-three.”

More slow, deep-breathing exercises from Remy. “Uh-huh.”

“Morning, kids,” Wrath bellows. He settles his heavy frame across from me.

“Where’s Griff?” Trinity asks me.

“Yes.” Wrath reaches for a coffee cup, turning it up for our server to fill. “Where is our little golden goose this morning?”

The Lost Kings really did bet on Griff to win.

I guess it would’ve been stupid not to.

How much money did everyone win?

Now that we have company, I can’t ask Remy about it. I should’ve done that instead of teasing him about my future wedding. But every time I think about Griff asking me to marry him, my heart flutters so hard it might fly out of my chest.

“He had some errands to run before our big goodbye breakfast,” Remy says, staring at his menu. “I think Underhill wanted to meet with him.”

“We saw Underhill early this morning,” Trinity says. “He was checking out.”

Remy tightens his hold on the menu, denting the edges of the thick cover. “He might have had a few other things to wrap up.”

“Are you guys leaving today too?” Trinity asks me.

“No. Griff didn’t get to see anything while he was training.” My lips curve. “And he promised me if he won, he’d take me sightseeing.”

“You should go to Red Rock Canyon,” Trinity suggests, resting her hand on Wrath’s wrist. “We went hiking there yesterday and it was beautiful.”

“Trin got some nice pictures at sunset,” Wrath says.

“Oh, that might be fun.” I glance at Remy, silently asking if he wants to do that.

“I gotta head back tomorrow morning. Early.” Remy snorts. “It’ll be a shock, going from Dawson’s luxury jet to flying commercial.”

“Dawson’s still around,” Wrath says. “Offered a ride to anyone who wants it. I’m not sure when he’s leaving, though.”

Remy shrugs.

I lift my gaze from my menu and catch sight of Jigsaw stealthily crouching and inching closer to Wrath’s back, silent determination written all over his face. His eyes meet mine and he presses a finger to his lips.

With careful precision, he extends one arm over Wrath’s shoulder, aiming to loop it around Wrath’s neck in a chokehold.

Seems suicidal to me.

Lightning-quick, Wrath seizes Jigsaw’s wrist in his vise-like grip without ever taking his eyes off the menu.

“What’d I tell you would happen if you tried that again?” Wrath says.

Jigsaw squirms as Wrath applies more pressure. “You’d congratulate me for my fine, stealthy skills?”

“Wrong.” Wrath releases him. “Sit the fuck down.”

Trinity bites her lip and shakes with quiet laughter.

Remy stares at Jigsaw like he’s lost his mind.

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