Page 11 of Just My Ex

Sebastian sighs and turns to Gordon. “Would you mind working downstairs for a few minutes?”

Gordon nods, eyes me warily, goes past me to pluck up his laptop from his own workstation near Elianna’s, and is out the door.

Sebastian motions to one of the brown leather sofas before slumping down into the other one, like he’s been waiting to relax all day.

I continue to stand. Nothing about the adrenaline in my body is going to allow me to relax. The flight was pretty much torture—a tin can with not enough oxygen or leg room.

“Henry.” His voice is taut, his gaze boring into me, but I don’t shrink. I have a right to be here.

I scrub the back of my neck. “You know I had to come.”

He sighs again and leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “Did she tell you she was coming here?”

“No.” I raise my chin. “But Navie’s in danger and I have a right, as her father, to help.”

“How did you even know they were here? She’s not going to like it.”

I don’t answer, but I can feel my jaw working. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. How did you know?” he asks again.

I hesitate, and then he jumps in. “Oh yeah. The Army friend. He must have tipped you off.”

“Look. This is serious, okay? I don’t have a choice.”

“What about work?” Sebastian asks. “How can you just up and leave? I thought that was impossible.”

It was impossible. Itisimpossible … most of the time.

“I asked for some leave.”

Sebastian’s jaw hardens, and that’s when it dawns on me. I’ve been seeing red so much over this whole thing with Navie and Quinn that I forgot why there’s an extra layer of hostility emanating from him. Guilt plunges through me, swift, like a sword.

“I wish I could have been at the wedding. I am so sorry I wasn’t here. I just—”

Sebastian lifts his hand. “Oliver understands, okay? Doesn’t mean I want to hear the excuses.”

This hurts. It feels like I messed up, even though I know I didn’t. No one understands where I was that day—how important it was to do what I did.

It didn’t help that both Mom and Aunt Stella called that day and left phone messages, their voices thick. It hurts to know they were hurting.

And what hurts even worse? The following week, Mom collapsed, out of the blue, and was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery to find and correct internal bleeding. By then, I was duty bound to work at a summit for retiring ambassadors in Europe.

It killed me not to be there at the hospital with Mom.

“I get it,” I say, defeated, sitting across from him. “I really did not have a choice. I’m sorry. Mom texted me some photos.” I offer the shell of a grin. “Oliver cleaned up nicely. You all did.” What he can’t know is I saw the whole thing, not just the photos. I was there, hiding in surveillance higher up the hill. “And I wanted to be there for Mom. I’m sorry.”

His mouth hardens, like he doesn’t even want to gothere. “So, when are you going to break the news to Quinn that you’re here against her wishes? Or are you just going to lurk and not tell her?”

I lift a shoulder. “It would be so much … cleaner that way. But I want to see Navie. Not just on a security feed, or from a distance.”

Sebastian works his jaw. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

My plan? Everything about my job requires a plan, down to the minute detail. Preparation often prevents security issues from even happening in the first place. I’ve been operating this way since I was in the Army.

But this? I absolutely do not have a plan.

That seems to be par for the course when Quinn’s involved. And that’s not okay. I can’t help her if I lead with my heart, or rather, with the heart-stopping panic that comes when she’s in danger.

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