SOMETHING TO TELL YOU

MIA

The Night Saints clubhouse is already alive when we arrive.

Motorcycles line the front of the building, their chrome catching the afternoon sunlight. Men move in and out through the doors, some carrying boxes, others talking in low voices. The air smells like gasoline, leather, coffee, and whatever someone is grilling around the back.

This place has never felt completely like mine.

It belongs to Saint now.

It used to belong to my father before him.

Sometimes I feel like I am only borrowing a corner of it because I happen to wear the president's ring.

Saint places his hand lightly against the small of my back as we walk inside.

I look down at it. Then at him. He doesn't seem to notice what he's doing.

But I do. I notice everything.

"President." One of the men greets him.

Saint nods.

His hand leaves my back and I immediately miss it.

God. I really am hopeless.

We make it halfway across the main room before I hear a familiar voice.

"Saint, the meeting with the Red Vipers has been moved to four."

I turn.

Maren stands near the office doorway with a tablet tucked against her chest.

I've seen her before of course. Many times.

But somehow, today feels different. Maybe because I’m pregnant and my hormones are probably acting up.

Maybe because I'm standing beside Saint with a secret inside me that makes me look at everything differently.

Maren is beautiful in a way that doesn't seem intentional. Her brown hair is pulled into a loose knot, and she's wearing black trousers, boots, and a fitted gray shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. There is nothing delicate about her.

She looks capable. Like she belongs here. And she does.

She has worked for Saint for years as his executive aide, handling club schedules, meetings, communications, records, and the endless stream of information that comes with running an MC. If Saint is the man everyone sees, Maren is often the person making sure everything behind him keeps moving.

She knows the club. She knows its members. She knows Saint most especially.

And once upon a time, she knew him in a way I never have.

She was his first love. Ex-girlfriend.

The woman who had been in his life before my father put me in it with a dying wish.

I knew about her before I married Saint. I knew everything I needed to know.

Or at least, I thought I did.

Maren looks at me and gives me a small smile.

"Hi, Mia."

"Hi." I say, trying not to sound awkward.

She looks at my dress. "You look lovely."

"Thank you."

There is no hostility in her voice. No hidden insult. Nothing I can hate her for.

And that almost makes it worse.

Because if she were cruel, I could easily dislike her.

If she were arrogant, I could tell myself Saint had simply mistaken familiarity for love.

But Maren is just...normal.

She turns back to Saint. "The documents you wanted are in your office."

"Did you go through them?" He asks.

"I did."

"And?"

"The numbers from the north territory don't match last month's report."

Saint's attention sharpens immediately. "Show me."

She walks toward him at once.

I watch them disappear into the office together.

I don't follow.

Instead, I stand there with my hands clasped in front of me, suddenly aware of how little I know about my own husband's world.

Maren doesn't need to ask Saint what he wants.

She knows.

She doesn't need him to explain what he's thinking.

She seems to understand him from one look alone.

And I hate the tiny voice inside my head asking the question I don't want to answer.

*Will I ever know him like that?*

I look down at my wedding ring.

Three years. Three years, and I still feel like I am learning my husband from the outside all over again.

I know his coffee order. His favorite food. The side of the bed he sleeps on. The sound of his footsteps when he's not in a good mood.

But Maren knows his business.

His history.

His instincts.

Maybe she knows the man underneath the president even though Saint had told me he had nothing with Maren anymore ever since we got married. I know it's not the truth but I'll believe it.

I press my lips together. I don't want to be jealous. Especially not today.

Today is supposed to be beautiful.

I have a baby inside me and I am going to tell my husband.

And maybe, after today, I won't have to wonder anymore.

An hour later, Saint finds me sitting outside on the clubhouse steps.

"Why did you disappear? You could easily get lost here Mia"

I look over my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just needed air."

He sits beside me, and for a while, neither of us speaks.

The noise from the clubhouse drifts through the open door behind us, but out here, everything feels quieter.

Saint rests his forearms against his knees.

"You seem like you don't like it here, I wouldn't have brought you."

"I do."

"You don't Mia."

I smile faintly. "You're very annoying when you're right."

He looks at me and I chuckle.

He looks away, but I think I catch the small smile on his face or maybe I'm imagining it.

My heart does that stupid thing again.

I lean back against the step. "Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what exactly?"

"I mean before everything."

He looks at me confused. "Before what?"

"Before we got married." I drop the words.

His expression becomes unreadable and I regret asking almost immediately.

But then he says with a calm face, "Sometimes."

Maybe this is enough. Maybe I don't need to know everything today.

Maybe I just need to tell him about the baby and watch his after-reaction

I swallow hard. “Saint”

I take his hand all of a sudden and squeeze it in mine, trying to ignore the nervousness rising in my guts.

"Hm?" He turns to me with a mild expression.

"I have something to tell you."