Marlowe
King's joy faltered the moment he saw my expression shift, and I turned the phone toward him, watching him read the message with the same growing concern I'd just felt myself.
*Marla here. Your uncle's had another episode — chest pains, considerable stress. Ambulance en route. Thought you'd want to know immediately.*
"Dorian," I said, already reaching for my jacket, my newfound certainty about the wedding date momentarily eclipsed by fresh, urgent worry. "We need to go."
King didn't hesitate, grabbing his own keys and following me out to the bikes without a single wasted second. "Stress-related, she said. Could be nothing serious. Could also be considerably more concerning, given his history."
"I know." My hands shook slightly, working the ignition. "I just got him back, King.
