Ted’s blood heated, and he had to look away. He wanted a drink.
But no. No, it was time to take control of his life instead of relying on whiskey to numb him to it. It might be a sham of a marriage, but Ryan deserved better than that from him, anyhow. 8
Echo was still slightly hungover at work on Monday, so Ted took pity. “Go home. I’ll be fine. If there’s any wedding business, it can wait until tomorrow, and everything MAC-wise is on hold until the company’s officially mine anyhow. I can manage.”
They sighed at their clipboard.
“What?” Ted asked. “Are you all right? Did anything happen in Las—”
Echo cut him off. “You two looked really happy.”
“Ryan and me, I assume?”
They gave him a dirty look.
Ted just raised his eyebrows, attempting to appear impervious. Flashes of Las Vegas, of Ryan rocking in his lap and spooning him in the night, danced behind his eyes. He willed these memories to cease existing. He failed.
“Are you sure there isn’t really something there?” Echo asked.