Wendy never did that shit when she was thirteen. When she was thirteen, she was in her prime assassin days. She was an accomplished professional. None of that girly shit mattered when she was thirteen. She was way too busy being Creepy Wendy to give a single fuck about boys, or dates, or best friends.
But everything changed when she turned seventeen.
That day. What a fucking day.
She went… backwards that day. I don’t really have another word to explain it. And I’m not saying she reverted back to some stupid little girl—Wendy Gale has never, ever been a stupid little girl. But something… snapped.
I really thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. And I want to tell her this, but she wouldn’t even know what I was talking about.
Hell, I wouldn’t even know where to start explaining.
“Hello? Nick? What are you thinking so hard about?”
I smile at her, but don’t say anything.
Because I’m thinking… I have regrets.
And I don’t want her to know that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - WENDY
Nick is worried about me and I hate it when he worries about me.
“Just thinking about you, Wen.” He sighs. “I want to ask you all the questions right now. But I can’t. Just…”
“Just tell you I’m fine?”
“No.” He actually laughs out loud. “I mean, yeah. But only if it’s true.”
I laugh too. “It’s true. I’m fine. We’re good.”
He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips, kisses my knuckles as he smiles at me. “Mrs. Tate.”
“Mmm. I’ve been thinking about that. Do I have to be a Mrs. Can’t I just be Wendy Tate?”
“Pretty sure that’s the tradition. Title comes with the marriage.”
“Yeah, but it’s us. Right? Are we traditional?”
“Maybe the better question is do we want to be traditional?”
It takes about two seconds of thought for both of us to laugh and shake our heads. “Nah.”
He pulls me closer to him and I’ve missed this. I always miss him when we’re apart, but this time it really does feel different. Not just because we’re married now and this is the first time we’ve been together since all that happened, but also because… everything feels so on track.
“Now I wanna know what you’re thinking.”
Hmmm. Here’s something no one knows about Nick Tate except me—he’s a really nice guy. I’m talking open-doors-for-you nice. Hold-your-hand kind of nice. He will grocery-shop and put everything away when he gets home. He will come when you call, be there regardless if you don’t, and if you ever need a new heart, he’ll either find you a replacement or give you his own.
I know this.
Because Nicholas Tate gave me his heart seven years ago when I needed a new one.
And he never asked for it back.
I sigh as I stare up into those brown eyes. Fucking eyeballs. Who knew they could hide so many secrets? These brown eyes are why I trust him. He’s not like me. Not at all like me. I don’t trust anyone like me. Not even Adam, and I like Adam. He’s a nice guy too, but he’s got those blue eyes. He’s one of them and Nick isn’t.
Nick taps my forehead with the tip of his finger. “Come on. What the hell is going through that head of yours?”
When he asks me this I always lie. But he knows I’m lying, so it’s fine. This is how we keep the even keel when all the waters around us are stormy. And it’s not really lies, anyway. It’s more like a daydream. “I was thinking about our wedding. It was pretty fun.”
He swipes a piece of hair away from my eyes and smiles. “It’s almost time for the real honeymoon. Are you ready?”
It’s a serious question designed to be hidden inside innocent words. “I’m so ready.”
He pauses, letting out a small, silent breath before he responds. “Good. Because we’re almost there, kid. We’re almost there.”
I let out a long, tired breath myself. And the stress of being under Merc’s capable, yet very frightening, hands goes with it. I’m here. I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me and he didn’t get any secrets, either. It’s like… best-case scenario, right?
“Go to sleep now. You need to rest.”
“I think I’ve been sleeping for days. I am super in need of the bathroom right now.”
“Oh, shit. Let me help you.” And he does. Nick is out of the bed before the last word even leaves his mouth. Then he’s carefully pulling me up and walking me to the bathroom. I’m still a little wobbly. I know I’m not making a big deal about this whole Merc thing—big deals are never good in the long run—but it’s kind of a big deal that the most dangerous mindfucker in the history of the Company just had a grip on my brain.
Still, I don’t want Nick to think too hard about that, so when he says, “Do you need me to help you?” even though I kinda do, I say, “No. I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”