Page 118 of Rebel Hawke

He holds up two fingers. “In two weeks, the hotel is going to open, and all of our lives are going to change. Atlas will have his title belt, and a week later, I’m going to be a married man.”

Pope grins, despite the heavy mood in the room. “Officially a Hawke.”

Cass chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I was officially a Hawke the moment your cousin sunk her nails into me.”

I snort-laugh at this characterization of his and Kennedy’s relationship and down the rest of my drink. “More like her stilettos.”

He smirks. “That, too. Though, at the beginning, she was trying to hit the jugular.”

Rightfully so.

The manwastrying to bring down Hawke Enterprises and spent years setting up ways to do just that, so if he hadn’t developed feelings for Kennedy and if Satriano hadn’t revealed himself, things would look very different today.

Isaac climbs from his seat, tosses back his drink, and sets the empty tumbler on the small table next to the couch. “Speaking of which, do you think the girls are having a good time at their dress fitting?”

Sure hope so.

Even now, I have to fight the urge to pull out my phone and text, but I know I’ve been annoying her with my constant hovering and overprotectiveness.

I clutch the edge of the bar to keep myself from doing just that. “I hope so. To be honest, I’m a little worried about Wren. She’s still really nauseous. I don’t know how she’s still teaching so many classes every day. I don’t want her to burn herself out.”

Isaac nods, shrugging off his tux coat to return it to the provided hanger. “I understand. I was the same way when Jack was pregnant with Giovanni, but we both know neither of them is the type to slow down for anything. Even a parasite growing inside them.”

Cass releases a deep laugh that carries around the opulent room. “A parasite?”

One of Isaac’s shoulders rises and falls. “I mean, that’s what it is—technically speaking.”

“Jesus Christ, man.” Pope shakes his head, laughing. “You certainly have a way with words, Counselor.”

He shrugs. “But am I wrong, Dr. Clarke?”

Pope scowls at him, offering an incredulous look. “I mean, no. There are certainly ways a placenta and fetus could be compared to a parasite, but I don’t know any doctors who would actuallycallit that.”

Isaac scoffs and tosses him a dismissive hand. “Regardless, the girls will take care of Wren. I’m sure she’s fine.”

I’m sure she is, too.

Despite the constant agitation being away from her and the baby causes, deep down, I know nothing will happen to her with Bishop watching her back and the rest of the girls there, too. But since the moment I realized she was pregnant, it’s like my whole world has shifted.

Opening night and the fight have been my sole concern for so long that thinking beyond that single point in time, to the future, to our baby finally arriving, has thrown me off my usual laser focus on what I have to do in the ring.

And that could be deadly.

18

WREN

Buildings and people whiz outside the car window, and my stomach lurches, that now-familiar sourness starting to make its way up my throat.

Oh, God.

I suck harder on the piece of ginger candy I already had in my mouth to try to stave offjustthis. Prior to Atlas knocking me up, I never experienced motion sickness, but now, it seems to be a constant thing any time my body is moving.

Please, God, don’t let me be sick.

Please, God, don’t let me be sick.

Not all over Bishop’s beautiful car.

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