Liam’s people have been stationed in the parking lot outside the café all this time. Unless they’ve started shirking their responsibilities to have a goddamn microbrew. But then—no. They wouldn’t. Not these guys.

“She’s still at the café,” he says, a moment later. “No signs of trouble. She’s with a group on the back patio.”

“Good. And how are things… around here?” I should have asked about security at our house first. “Emily’s house looking okay?”

“Everything’s secure on the property,” says Liam North. I would say he was laughing at me, but he doesn’t actually laugh.

“She’s okay, Rochester,” he says.

“Of course.” I hang up the phone before I can embarrass myself.

I sit down in a chair in the living room and try to read a book. It doesn’t work. Next, I scroll on my phone. It’s all bullshit, not worth looking at. The news is running the same tired shit about Emily and Joe. I try the book again. It’s not working.

I try not to pace around the house. There are excuses to pace, if I want them. I could look at all the beautiful, modern architecture that makes up the home. I could admire the decorating we’ve done. I fold a blanket, but there’s not much else to fix. With new houses, everything’s not broken down already.

I have to move.

It’s the only thing that keeps me from giving in to my nerves.

I don’t like being away from Jane, and especially not in this circumstance. The paparazzi are already being oppressive and harassing. It’s because of these things that we agreed on security dropping her off and picking her up from the café. They’re not going to go in with her, but they’ll be available by phone.

We agreed, by which I mean that Jane flicked her eyes toward the ceiling and teased me for being overprotective. It took several minutes of negotiation before she would accept being driven. Another five before she would accept them staying in the parking lot.

And the biggest reason I don’t love her being so damn far away? Because meeting with a bunch of horny college guys is not where I want my girlfriend to be.

Girlfriend. I don’t like that word. It sounds wrong in my head. I want her to be my wife. The mother of my child. I want her locked down in every way there is.

I pace to the front window and look out. No car in the driveway.