Page 133 of The Wrong Husband
"After this one, yes."
"Oh." Her jaw drops. "You’d do that…for me?"
I rise to my feet and pocket my phone, then walk over to her. "The last thing I want is for you to worry when I’m gone. When I realized I was serious about us getting married, I told the MI5 that I was retiring.”
"So, no more undercover assignments?" Relief fills her eyes, and I know, I made the right decision.
"You experience enough pressure in the ER. I don’t want to add to that. I don’t want you to worry about me, in addition to everything else. I don’t want to spend any more time in the field. Besides, taking on dangerous missions has lost its appeal. It’s why I’m retiring from the MI5.”
“You are?” Her eyes grow wide.
I nod. “I don’t want to be away from you. After this last mission for the charity, which happens to be a personal one—and the only reason I’m doing it is because it’s for a good cause—I won’t be taking on others."
She swallows and seems on the verge of crying.
My chest tightens, "Hey, what’s wrong?"
"I don’t deserve you." She looks away. "I’m not sure I deserve this kind of empathy from you."
"What are you talking about? You’re my wife. Of course, I’ll make sure your life is as stress-free as possible."
She takes my hand between her much smaller ones, then brings it to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. "You’re a good man."
"Except when I’m bad." I curl my lips.
She rolls her eyes. "That ego of yours! Unfortunately, you have the goods to back it up, so I can’t begrudge you that."
"Is that right?" I turn her around and slap her butt. "Come on, let’s get going before Brody calls, wondering where we are."
“You shouldn’t have cut short your honeymoon, but…” Arthur calls out from his armchair in front of the fire. His voice is strong, his tone amused as he looks from me to my wife, then back at me. A smile curves his lips. “Seeing the two of you married makes me feel stronger.”
He’s seated in his usual place in the armchair by the fireplace. Tiny is on the floor next to him. Imelda is on the settee to his left. As soon as she sees us near the doorway, she rises to her feet and walks toward us with arms outstretched.
“Congratulations!” She hugs Phe. “I am so happy for the both of you. And I’m so sorry you had to cut your honeymoon short. I’d say you shouldn’t have, except—” Imelda steps back and takes my hand in hers. “I know Arthur is very happy to see the two of you. And I suppose, I’m old enough to be selfish and know that seeing the two of you has, possibly, extended his life span.”
“Are you okay?” I search Imelda’s features and see the dark circles under her eyes. The impact of someone being sick is mostly borne by those closest to them. Imelda always seems so strong and confident; it’s easy to forget that Arthur’s brush with the Big C would have impacted her more than the rest of us. Probably more than Arthur himself. The old geezer doesn’t deserve a woman like her being at his side.
“I’m fine.” She pastes a smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I admit, when he collapsed, I was worried;but thankfully, he’s better now. And happy to be the center of attention.”
She looks over her shoulder. I follow her line of sight to where my family is seated on chairs and sofas around Arthur.
Nathan holds Skylar’s hand. He’s saying something that Arthur is listening to with great attention.
Brody leans back in an armchair beside Nathan’s. He’s drumming his fingers on the armrest. His body language says he’d rather be somewhere else, but his features wear a look of patience. He, too, is humoring Gramps.
James walks over to join us. He was at the far end of the room talking to Adrian Sovrano and Toren Whittington, who seem to have joined the ranks of our family.
I’m guessing it’s because Arthur’s worried he’s going to run out of grandsons to marry off after Brody. Bet he’s charming them by providing them a family-like atmosphere away from home, so he also has the chance to manipulate them into getting married before too long.
The other reason is because they come from business families whose contacts could prove beneficial to growing the Davenports’ influence. Perhaps, the latter more than the former. And no, I’m not being petty when I say that.
“Congratulations.” James hugs Phe.
He glares at me over her shoulder.
“You take care of her, or you’ll have me to contend with.”
"I don’t need you telling me how to take care of my wife. I suggest you watch out for yourself."
