Page 55 of Hook Up

It’s been ten days, and I miss my wife more than I miss breathing. We video chat daily, and I drag out every conversation because I hate ending the call, knowing I’ll face my king-sized bed without her gorgeous body next to me.

Greer, on the other hand, looks exhausted, the bags under her eyes visible through her makeup.

She didn’t have bags in Barbados. She glowed.

She’s less than two weeks into her former life and already she’s running on fumes. Her job was less than thrilled with her resignation and dumped all the crap cases on her as a parting gift. I begged her to quit, but she feels an obligation to her patients, despite her employer being a total prick.

Personally, I don’t think she owes them a damn thing.

The only upside? Every day we’re apart brings us one day closer to being reunited, and I remind her of this as soon as our call connects for the evening.

A smile splits her face, but it fades as she glances at my hand. “Where’s your ring?” she asks, pointing to her own wedding band.

I have a choice. I can make up some excuse she’ll no doubt believe and then change the subject. But I never want to lie to Greer. Her father and that piece of shit Richard spent years lying, wrecking her emotional stability in the process.

So, I opt for the truth, praying she understands my logic. “I’m not wearing it.” When her face falls, I realize I have seconds to prevent this chat from careening into the wall. “It’s not that I don’t love it. I do, but we haven’t announced anything yet.”

“Right,” she mumbles, her gaze intent on her hand. “Should I take mine off?”

“The press doesn’t know who you are yet. I plan on announcing our marriage after the first race. I want to keep the media’s focus on my training until that point.”

Please understand, beautiful. Please.

A sad smile colors her face, but she nods in agreement. “Whatever you need to do, Ryder. A few people asked me about the ring, but I never told them who I married. Your secret is safe.”

Hell, that’s not how I meant it. “I’m telling the world about us as soon as the race is finished. But I want you by my side when I make the announcement.” Wincing at my unintentional faux pas, I shoot her a rueful smile. “I should have spoken to you about everything first, ensured you were okay with my decision. I’ll put the ring on right now.”

Yep, I’m scrambling. I’m terrified she’ll slide on her trusty emotional armor again. It was no easy feat getting her to lay it aside the first time.

“It’s fine. Honestly. No big deal.” But the flat tone of her voice belies her innocent words. I’ve hurt her, which is the last thing I want to do.

“Gigi, it’s not like that.”

“How’s Greg settling in?” With that question, her armor snaps into place as she switches to a different topic.

“The man is a genius with automobiles.” Clearing my throat, I run my hand over my beard, uncertain how to proceed. “Can I ask something without you getting angry?”

Greer releases a short bark of laughter, averting her gaze. “That’s always the setup for a terrible question. Fire away.”

Yep, I have some serious damage control to handle after the ring fiasco. I see it in the set of her jaw, along with the fact that she’s barely meeting my gaze. Now, I’ve shot out another cryptic question and judging by the apprehension lining her face, she has no clue what I’ll hit her with next.

As I said, I havewaymore finesse on the track than with romance, but I’m trying. For Greer, I’ll never stop trying.

“Hopefully, it’s not a terrible topic. I pray it’s something benign and I’m overreacting.” It’s meant to soothe her nerves, but as soon as her dark gaze flies up to meet mine, I realize I’m only making the situation worse with every second wasted.

“Benign? Are you okay?”

“Bad choice of words. It’s about Greg and his drinking.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” Greer rubs her hand over her brow, a small sigh escaping her mouth. “I hoped he would rein in his drinking after the hubbub of the wedding and starting this new job. He’s not a mean drunk—”

“I know that, but he’s always got a drink in his hand. Except at the track, of course. But the minute we’re done, he’s in the cooler, popping open a beer. Should I be worried? You know him better than anyone, Gigi.”

“Mom and I have worried about his drinking for years. My father had a drinking problem, and we all know there’s a hereditary link. I’ve never known Greg to mix business and pleasure, although their borders lie really close together. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I’ll do it. You have enough on your plate.” Drumming the table, I stare at her image, the apprehension wafting off her in waves. Time to get to the bottom of whatever is eating at her emotions. “Hey beautiful, what did you think I was going to ask?”

“Nothing.” Once again, Greer won’t meet my gaze. A sure sign she’s lying.

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