Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 10

Wes

“Did you just give all your color loving genes to your son, Bruce?” my best friend ponders from his leaning position against the walk-in closet island. “Is that why he wears banana yellow shorts and neon green suspenders while you don the same button up black dress shirt you have since 1949?”

“ 39, ” I correct in tandem with fixing my collar. “Batman’s first appearance occurred in 1939.”

“Yet when I mention some obscure fact about Star Trek – like its registry number or what NCC stands for – you imply it’s a miracle I get laid knowing that type of shit.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“Well, it damn sure doesn’t sound like Bryn. She’s always amazed at how much I didn’t get laid knowing shit like that.”

Unsure if that’s a part of their relationship I miss.

I’m even more unsure if that’s a part of their relationship I should encourage to return.

“You’re nervous,” he amusedly announces, one hand sliding into his navy-blue pant suit pockets.

“I’m… concerned. ”

“The rest of us call being ‘concerned’ on a date… nervous. ”

It’s impossible not to glare at his reflection in my full-length mirror.

“And according to the text I got from my wife about yours…you should be.”

My eyebrows launch to the ceiling on their own accord. “Why?” There’s no stopping my frame from whirling around to face him. “Is she having second thoughts about us going out? Us…dating? Us… together ? Our marriage?”

“Dude, you cannot take that energy to dinner.”

As much as I want to chastise him for calling me dude, I don’t.

I focus on the other portion of his proclamation.

He’s right.

I can’t be this stressed about our date.

I can’t keep playing the number of things that could go wrong through my mind like I need a recap from the rest of this season.

I know what I’m up against.

I know how critical rebuilding our relationship is.

I know I need to trust that she learned to like and love me once…she can learn to do it again.

I know I need to let go a bit.

Breathe.

Remember breath mints.

Mine is typically acceptable but Dai’s Steakhouse does tend to go a little heavy on the garlic.

“Wes,” his frame shifts to one completely upward, “you have gotta relax.” He shoves his free hand into his other pocket. “This isn’t about impressing some rando woman you met at a bar last night that may be ‘the one’. This is simply about showing ‘the one’ that’s already yours how you got that way. Why she chose you. ”

“I agree with Mr. Reese, sir,” Clark casually interjects, pulling both of our gazes over to where he’s standing in the closet doorway.

“And in all the comics you know Alfred is always right.”

“Not always,” is murmured under my breath.

“Enough to count it.”

A reluctant nod of agreement precedes me inquiring about the presence of the other male he’s with. “Do we have a problem, Park?”

“Problem? No.”

His response prompts hope to hop onto my expression. “Answers?”

“Not ones you’re going to like.”

“Why do you sound like The Riddler?” J.T. playfully pokes.

“He wasn’t Chinese,” argues the head of my personal security division.

“But he could be,” he continues to goad, clearly for his own amusement.

“And this conversation could end with less zeroes on both of your paychecks if you continue to test my patience.” Brief glares are delivered to both of them before insisting. “ Speak, Park. ”

“The dive came up with nothing.” His arms are casually folded across his black fitted t-shirt covered chest. “The classmates were digitally clean – minus the large amount of partial nudes they’ve all sent to the same male who is masquerading as the son of a wealthy financier when in reality he’s an ex-con who served time in Austlandia for fraud – and they were also physically clean in the sense I checked with security along with both concierges – Silas Bhett from yours and Rafael O’Toole from J.T.’s – regarding their possible presence in the vicinity. Neither property had any knowledge regarding their existence.”

And Silas would have mentioned something if there were something to mention.

He’s an extension of our family the same way Lucky and Marguerite are except he has an almost alarmingly fantastic memory.

I think there are better uses for it than recalling when laundry pickup in the building is late or stalling a resident so that they do not walk in on their husband having an affair with his young, Venezuelan assistant named Haniel, but alas.

He seems content in what he does.

At least according to the gossip my wife spills while I go into battle with our espresso machine in the mornings.

Perhaps I should invest in a new brand?

Maybe a physical barista we keep on call?

“You have nothing,” I coldly chomp.

“I have resolve.”

“You have a ticking clock, Park.” My eyes hold his hostage. “I cannot let my wife go back to work on Tuesday without some sort of indication we have this situation contained, so find me answers or find me your replacement.”

“ Weston, ” Clark swiftly hisses in disapproval.

I take in and release a long, hard breath prior to correcting, “Find me answers or deliver to me a plan that guarantees her safety when she is out of my sight. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Who’s scheduled on deck for her return?”

“Hill and Holmes will rotate running point while Platt and Cashell will alternate interior plain clothes perimeter security. She’s less familiar with them; therefore, they should have an easier time blending in the day-to-day crowd.”

“Cleared through the Institute?”

“Yes. Their badges arrived this morning.”

She said she was going back to work.

She didn’t say I couldn’t add safety measures to the situation.

Nodding is accompanied by me reaching for my cufflink’s drawer. “And who’s with us this evening?”

J.T.’s hand unexpectedly blocks my path prompting me to shift my attention over to where he’s shaking his head.

“Holmes.”

I prepare to insist my best friend move his hand when I see Clark also shake his head.

Fine.

No cufflinks.

They’re not casual.

And this date is supposed to be casual.

Should we not do steak?

Is steak too formal?

“He’s already waiting for you by the SUV,” Park announces.

My nod of gratitude becomes his point of dismissal as well as an invitation for my son’s grandfather to speak. “Suggestion, Weston?”

“I don’t have a colored casual shirt.”

“I think that’s what we’ll buy you for Christmas,” J.T. impishly pokes.

“Perhaps we’ll go away for Christmas.”

“Gift will still be here when you return.”

“Why not do something different this evening?” He politely folds his hands in front of him. “Something that proves to Bryn you both know her and have taken her previous grievances – which she is intuitively aware of – to actual heart.”

The overpowering weight of frustration plops itself back onto my shoulders. “Like what?”

“Think on it.” His all-knowing smile barely precedes him offering me keys to one of the golfcarts. “I’m sure an idea will come to mind.”

J.T. joins in on the smirking along with the object giving, although he hands me mints. “Enjoy your evening with Uhura. I have a wife and nephew to beat at Candyland. ”

“ Do not play that with real candy again. ”

“There’s no other way to play it,” he dramatically scoffs while exiting beside Clark. “What are we supposed to use? Fruit?”

“That is nature’s candy…” are the last words I hear spoken.

Completely alone, I turn back towards the full-length mirror to study myself.

The situation.

How is it I’m more uncomfortable in my own skin than I was when I was first revealing myself to her?

How is it after all these years I’m more afraid she’ll reject me, what she sees, what she hears than I was skulking around the estate?

I was colder then.

More ruthless.

Uncompromising.

She managed to see parts of me I couldn’t even see myself.

Acknowledge them.

Discover me.

And here I am…ready to do it all over again.

Shed some of the old.

Lean into some of the new.

My eyes fall to the object in my hand as a plan begins to form.

Hm.

Perhaps we should get into something old and drive into something new.