Page 79 of Things Left Unsaid

When she clears her throat in a silent prompt, I remember what she asked me. Callan. The wedding. Saskatoon. “He knew.”

“Why didn’t he want to attend?”

“Not because of the past,” I assure her. “Callan never leaves the ranch if he can help it. I’ve no idea where in the world Cody is, and as for Cole, once he gets over himself, he’ll be pissed he missed the ceremony.”

His attitude is why I stayed in a hotel on Wednesday night and not at his apartment.

Her mouth tightens.

Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the wedding band constricting my finger, but my tongue’s loose as I ask, “What happened that night?”

“You want to start married life lost in the past?” she mocks, not even pretending to misunderstand which night I’m talking about as she carefully scoops some of France’s finest onto a cracker.

It’s funny how quickly I’ve adapted to seeing her check her level and her grazing—she never skips a meal. Never goes anywhere without a purse that has her kit in it, emergency snacks too.

The first thing I had her do when we made it to the hotel room was share her apps with me so that I can also monitor her.

I knew she didn’t like it.

“Colt?” she prompts at my extended silence.

“I’d prefer to start it without any lies between us,” I clarify, finger running along the rim of the glass, making the crystal sing. “Why were you there? Did Marcy Armstrong have anything to do with it? Is that why you never said a word about what you saw that night? Do you know where she ran away to?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She pats her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “I think I’ll head to bed.”

“You’ll tell me eventually,” I inform her as she gets to her feet.

“Why would I do that?”

“You will.” I smile at her.Blandly.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

I can feel her bitterness but I’m unsure if she’s hiding behind it.

“I believed you about Loki.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

Her hand tightens on the dining chair. “Firstly, it took you ten years to be open to hearing that question, never mind answering it. Secondly—” Her fingers clench. Hard. “—I don’t want to start things off on the wrong foot.”

“Can the truth do that?”

She hitches a shoulder. “It shouldn’t, but it usually does.”

“Do you think it’s wise to have this between us?”

“What does it matter? We won’t be married long.”

I swirl the red wine in my wine glass. “Long enough. IVF doesn’t always take.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

I get to my feet and stride over to her side. Her head tips back at my approach.

“Tomorrow, then,” I rumble, not willing to let this go.

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