I slid my hand into his when the conversation grew heated. He squeezed my hand, unaware that he was providing me more comfort than I was giving. Grant’s tone dropped.
“I’ll be there. Don’t let it happen again.”
He hung up and tossed his phone onto the nightstand.
“So, that day we had planned?”
He rolled onto his side, propped himself on his elbow, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
“You were restless in your sleep. Thankfully, I have quick reflexes and narrowly avoided an elbow to the eye. Bad dream?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“I am,” he confessed. “What was your dream about?”
“My husband abandoning me on the day we were supposed to bake bread from scratch and use our new $325 bread knife.”
“This level of passive aggressiveness before the sun is up should be illegal,” he joked, leaning down to kiss me.
“It should, but it’s not. What’s going on with Casey?”
“Who fucking knows,” he muttered, smoothing his hand down my stomach, which still hadn’t settled. In fact, the nauseous knot in my stomach sent bile up my esophagus. I swallowed it down, praying it was a one-off and I’d be fine after breakfast and a hot shower. “He’s been distracted lately.”
“We’ve all been distracted lately.”
Grant shook his head.
“Not like this. He’s been shifty—like he’s hiding something. Now, all of a sudden, I have to cover for him in court. Dad has a doctor’s appointment, Daisy is still out, and Kieran is meeting with opposing counsel to discuss a settlement for a case.”
“Do you think it’s drugs? Gambling debt?”
“Knowing him, it probably has something to do with a woman,” he said, easing out of bed with a sigh of an elderly man who’d seen it all and had grown weary of the world.
“I’ll make breakfast,” I offered, slipping from under the comforter.
I closed my eyes when the room seemed to tilt and took a few grounding breaths. My tongue felt thick in my mouth, and a heaviness settled in my stomach.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answered, keeping my eyes closed. “I was making fun of you, but I think the food from the party is participating in a conga line in my stomach.”
He chuckled as he moved into the walk-in closet.
“Are there maracas?”
“Maracas, Taiko drums, and a bagpipe.”
“Sounds lively. I’ll get ready for work in the guest bathroom.”
“No need. I’m fine now,” I insisted, noting the slight relief.
“Are you sure?”
“Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes,” I answered before entering the bathroom to relieve myself, brush my teeth, and wash and moisturize my face.
* * *
I sliced open a packet of bacon and frowned when the smell hit my nose. I lifted the package to my nose and sniffed.