Page 107 of Where We Promise

“He looks like you a little, looks like Pen even more.”

I swiped again, showing him more photos. There were a few of Pen lying on my chest, smiling into the camera, then a few of us on the honeymoon, a few shots I’d snuck of Penelope when she wasn’t paying attention. One of her in the tub, only the back of her head in view, but she looked like a goddess. Then there were a few of our wedding that people had sent to me.

Pen’s smile as I said my vows. My smile as she walked down the aisle.

Luke watched everything, while trying to fight my hold and then once I knew he’d had his fill, I lowered the phone and released him.

“You fucking moron. You had her. You had the life, and you gave it up.”

Luke shook his head. “I know, let me fix it.”

His words were muffled but coherent enough.

“No. There is no fixing it because you’re a backstabbing traitor and you let Hotch slap Pen. You let her get fired after taking her dream job from her. You talked to me about fucking her, knowing I was in love with her. Then you fucked other women while she was in the room, and made everyone in the club think it was acceptable to disrespect her. You never deserved her, and I don’t deserve to live my life looking over my shoulder. She’s my wife, and Connor is my son. Go to hell, Luke.”

“Jamie!” Luke bellowed, but I’d already pulled my Glock and put a bullet through his brain.

Tucking the gun back into my jeans, I turned away and walked out of the shack.

Present Day

Penelope was quiet and I had no idea if she’d talked through anything yet, or who she would even confide in. Learning that the father of her child had been murdered and the order was given by her husband was a lot to take in.

She was likely going to be even more pissed at me when she learned what else I did.

So, I’d found her wildflowers and set them in a vase on the table. Then because I was nervous to tell her, the following day I found her even more and set them on the dresser in the room. She still wasn’t speaking to me, so I bought her a new journal because I’d seen her old one that was practically falling apart.

Still nothing, even as she traced the pages with her fingers.

Fuck.

The following day, she woke up to a new ring sitting on her finger. I’d left the old but added a diamond ring like I should have in the beginning. I saw her pink lips part as she inspected it, then cut her cold gaze over to where I was standing in the room with Connor.

She didn’t remove it, which felt like progress, but she also didn’t talk to me.

An entire week passed without her talking to me and it felt like someone had punctured a hole in my chest and then poured in salt.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

She had just put Connor down for a nap and walked out of the room, when I cornered her.

“This is bullshit, Pen. You need to talk to me.”

She stared at the floor, which she knew I hated. I resisted the urge to pull her chin up.

She remained quiet, which only made me that much more desperate.

“We’re moving.”

Her eyes lifted, searching for more information.

“We get keys for the new house in three days. Plenty of time to pack and pull together some help to get all our shit into a moving truck.”

“What are you talking about?” She finally broke the silence and I felt a tiny triumph at that.

Walking toward the couch, I gave her my back. She followed.

“Now you want to talk?” I was being immature, but fuck I missed her.

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