Just like the other ninety-nine times.
I tighten my grip on the stupid device, fighting the need to text all of them for an update.
Cass swirls his drink, staring into it, momentarily lost in thought, and I walk over to the small bar provided by the tailor to pour myself one. It’s the only thing I can think of that might actually relax me and keep me from being too overbearing where Wren is concerned today.
Pope glances over at me from his spot on the dais, where he turns side to side and examines himself. “Should you be having that?”
Glowering at him, I snag the tumbler from the bar top. “One ounce of whiskey isn’t going to fuck over my entire training camp. Besides, I need it.” I sip the scotch, savoring the smoky, peaty Islay and letting it burn through my chest and gut.
Fuck, is that good.
My first taste of alcohol in almost three months—and it’s worth it.
Even if it doesn’t do anything to ease my worry about Wren and how she’s doing.
Isaac waggles his eyebrows, eyeing the drink in my hand. “Trouble in paradise, Daddy?”
I point at him. “You don’t call me that.”
He laughs, relaxing back onto the couch, his own drink in hand. “You better get used to being called that.”
Pope smirks and steps off the dais. “The only one left here who won’t be called that is going to be Jude.”
At least here in this room, since Coen is still a no-show.
Jude looks up from where he sits quietly on the other end of the couch with Cass and offers a little half-hearted smile. “I am perfectly content to live childless with Angelina, if that’s what she wants. We have a lot of nieces and nephews to keep us busy.”
I lean against the bar and examine the quietest, most reticent Hawke. It’s so rare to get him alone, away from Angie or out of his condo, that the opportunity to talk to him about anything can’t be missed. “Isthat what she wants?”
Ang has always been like another mother figure to all of us, and of any of the girls, she has the most natural instincts in that regard. I had always assumed she’d end up with a whole brood of her own someday.
He rubs his hand on the back of his neck and up through his thick blond hair. “I mean, I’m sure she wants kids, but…”
Oh, fuck.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
Sometimes, when we’re all together, the banter seems to encourage things to slip out that shouldn’t be said. Here I’ve been worried about the type of fatherIam going to be, and Jude can barely leave his fucking condo some days.
We’ve seen a lot more of him since he and Angelina got together. He seems to be a lot better about going to familiar places, but there are times he can’t even make it to Nana’s for Sunday dinner.
I’m surprised he even came today.
Even if theycanhave children, they may not want to, and it’s none of my fucking business. It just seemed like the natural question to ask in the conversation, given how there aren’t any secrets with the Hawkes.
“Man…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
His head whips up, and those icy eyes meet mine. “No, it’s okay. It’s a fair question. She’s your cousin. You want her to be happy.”
“Youdomake her happy.”
No matter what happens between them, I know that much is true.
Those two were always meant to end up together, just like Wren and I were.
I take another sip of my drink and check my phone yet again as an awkward silence settles over the room. Typically, someone is always busting someone else’s balls, but today, things feel a little off.
Maybe because one of the tuxes still hangs on the elegant stand in the far corner of the room, and no one has been able to get a hold of Coen to see why he isn’t here.