Page 161 of Beautiful Collide

Shit.

Teasing is one thing, but I’d never want to hurt my little Hex.

How do I fix this?

I get up from my chair and sit beside her. Taking her hand in mine, I wait for my cue that she needs my help.

She doesn’t speak, and I narrow my gaze, wondering if a panic attack is about to begin.

The quiet in the room feels thick with tension. I wait for her to do something, anything. I need her to lead me.

I don’t want to fuck this up.

Usually, I’d make some dumb joke because that always has a way of helping. But now, it feels like we’re hanging off the side of a building, and I’m the one trying to save us both.No pressure. Fuck, that’s a lot of pressure.

“I’m okay,” she finally says. “I know you’re waiting for me to break.”

“You’re not going to break. You’re strong, Molly. The strongest woman I know.”

She did hold her own in a room full of stuck-up suits who sold condoms for a living, so that has to stand for something. Most people would have crumbled, present company included, but not her.

“It’s not me, it’s you. When you’re around—you have a way of calming me. Always.”

Wait. What? Did she just say that? Did she really say I’m good for her? I want to reach out and touch her forehead to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, but I refrain. Never know how she will react. The woman tends to give me whiplash, after all.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Hex.” She turns to face me and smiles. I squeeze her hand in mine. “If you’re okay . . .”

“I am.”

“Then I think we should talk about . . . our marriage.”

Molly flinches, and I hate it. “Can we not say that word?”

I lean forward in the chair. “What should I call it? Our Vegas disaster? Or maybe one happy Elvis memory?”

From where she sits beside me, I catch a glimpse of a smile tugging at her lips. It’s faint, like she’s trying to fight it, but it’s there.

“That’s better,” she says dryly.

Progress. I’ll take it.

“All right, one happy Elvis memory, it is.” One I have no intention of forgetting. “But seriously, we need to figure out what we’re doing here.”

She tilts her head up to the sky. “We’re fixing it. And no one can know.”

“Molly,” I say softly, and she brings her head back down to meet my stare. “This isn’t just on you, okay? I was there too. You might have made the joke about getting married, but I agreed. I’m the one who found Elvis. We both said ‘I do’ although, in hindsight, I’m not sure how we did that. The guy was ridiculous.”

She blinks at me, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Oh, wow, admit it,” I say, grinning now. “You want Elvis. It’s the sideburns, isn’t it? I just can’t compete with face hair like that.”

“Stop,” she says, but her voice is calmer now.

I press on, leaning closer. “I knew it. You’re a sucker for a man in a rhinestone jumpsuit. I’ll see if I can borrow one for our next date.”

That earns me a snort, and she finally meets my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are. Married to me.” I waggle my eyebrows.

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