“Your sisters are planning our wedding,” Avery said as she loaded the dishwasher.
Rafe handed her the glasses from the table. “Yeah, they can be a bit enthusiastic,” he said chuckling. He came up behind her, bent over her body and grabbed her waist. “The main thing is we’re going to be legal, official, permanent.”
Avery straightened and turned to face him, leaned against the dishwasher. She looked into his eyes, and as always a flood of heat flowed through her. Being in the same air space with Rafe always did that to her, made her hungry for him, weak to his will. But this was her wedding, her day. She splayed her hands against his chest. “Look, babe, I know it’s your family, and I don’t want to cause any rifts, but...I need some space.”
Rafe’s simmering gaze slowly moved over her face, the way it did whenever he was trying to see beneath the surface of her words. She shifted her weight under his close scrutiny.
“I’ll talk to them, okay,” he said softly.
Avery pressed her lips together and nodded her head.
“Come ’ere.” He pulled her tight against him. “All I want is for you to be happy. Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”
Avery rested her head against his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart. Her temple suddenly pounded and a flash of sharp pain shot across her eyes. Her body tensed.
Rafe eased back and looked down at her taut expression. “You okay? Another headache?” He stroked her cheek.
Avery let out a slow breath. “A little. It’ll pass.”
Since the explosion in Paris and the concussion she sustained when she’d rescued Rafe’s father, she’d intermittently suffered from mild to severe headaches. The doctors assured her that they would lessen and then eventually disappear with time.
“Maybe we need to get the doctor to run some more tests.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s only been a little over two months.”
“Yes, but you go back to work next week. The doctor has to clear you. You have to be on your A-game, darlin’. You said so yourself.”
She leaned up and kissed his lips. “And I will be.” There was no way she would see any doctors and tell them what was really going on with her. They’d never clear her to return to duty. And if so it would be desk duty. She did not work her way up the ranks of the Secret Service to sit behind a desk. Plus, she was up for promotion. No way would she blow it. Two Advil. End of story. “I’m fine.” She turned the dial on the dishwasher and it hummed to life. Another morning of domesticity.
After leaving Paris, Rafe took Avery to the Lawson compound to recuperate from her injuries before returning to Avery’s place in Washington, DC. Rafe