Page 18 of With You Forever

Blood turning to ice, Seth stares at the left-behind wedding planner. The planner Lacey’s never without.

Tilting his head up toward the ceiling, Seth drags a hand down his face.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

Lacey lets out an under-her-breath swear when she pulls into the driveway of Alabama’s house. The seat next to her is empty of its usual passenger. Her wedding planner. She left it on the counter when she left Seth.

But does it matter? Planning a wedding? What if—

Stop.

Screwing her eyes shut, Lacey lets out a frustrated growl.

No doubt.

Time to compartmentalize. It’s what she does best. A coping tactic she hasn’t fully used since she left LA. Since her mugging. Shove her emotions into a box, forget about them until they crack and claw and rear their ugly head at the very worst possible time.

Worry about it later. Worry about it when she needs to worry about it.

She allowed herself a slight slip last night, but no more. She has to rally for Seth. She has clients that depend on her. Her career can’t take a hit. Her wedding still needs to be planned.

She’ll wait to freak out.

She’ll wait to break.

It won’t be bad news.

It can’t.

Seth won’t let it, she reminds herself. A stupid notion, she knows he can’t control acts of God, but there’s some part of her that believes it. Believes he’d fight heaven or hell for her. Believes that the phone call coming her way has nothing but positive and good and healthy news. Last night, he was her protector. He knew exactly how to calm her anxiety, her fears. He took on her pain and made it his. Blue eyes filled with conviction that she’d be okay. It was a reminder to her that, good or bad, angst or adventure, they take it together.

She only hopes it won’t be too much for him.

She had woken last night to find him still awake, staring at the ceiling, his handsome face creased in worry.

Seth’s strong, but she has to be strong too.

She pulls out her phone and checks it for a message from the clinic, even though she knows it’s too early. Wishful thinking.

What she needs today isnotto be a walking ball of anxiety. Her fingers itch to Google. To hop on WebMD and scare herself to death. To—

“California?”

She jumps at the sound of her nickname. At the hard rap of knuckles and rings on her window.

Blinking her way out of her thoughts, Lacey smiles at the gruff face of Griff Greyson. With a sharp inhale, she sticks her phone in her purse and scrambles out of the car. She groans, seeing her heel stuck in a crack in the driveway. “Damn it,” she mutters. She’s a hot frazzled mess. Then, she gives her entire body a jerk so hard, she nearly topples over in her haste to get free.

“Easy,” Griff says, steadying her by her elbow. His tawny eyes check her over. “You okay?”

She huffs and sweeps a hand down her blazer. A flush of heat on her cheeks. “I’m late.”

A chuckle rolls out of him. “Al’s inside.”

“Thanks,” Lacey says and struts toward the stairwell of the old Victorian house. Once an old fixer-upper, it’s now a renovator’s dream home thanks to Alabama and Griff’s handiwork.

Inside, she’s greeted by Alabama and a flourish of warm hugs and sweet tea. “Sorry I’m late,” Lacey says, setting her bag on the kitchen island. “You ready to put the finishing touches on this party?”

“Lord, am I ever,” Alabama drawls, her bright red hair tied up with a blue bandana. “I can’t believe it’s almost here. Now we get to show it off. All our blood, sweat and tears.”

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