Page 75 of The Billionaire's Wife

“It’s pizza and chips while we play poker. I get a folding table out for that.” Tristan set his soup down on the coffee table. “I can get that out if you want.”

“No. This is fine. It’s just very…bachelor.” Angie’s gaze flitted to me. “And you’re not one.”

I tried to school my expression, but I couldn’t help feeling condemned. “It’s my fault he’s been living like one, though.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Angie reached over to touch my hand. “No one’s assigning blame. I’m looking for an excuse to go shopping.”

“That’s truth right there.” Steve took a bite of soup. “We don’t need any more furniture, so she’s always on the hunt for someone who does.”

“I can just order something from Ikea…” Tristan trailed off at the bland stare Angie sent his way. “Or not.”

None of them might be assigning blame, but I was. I didn’t know how to stop it, either. I was to blame. For all of this. Tristan had married me because I needed help. And, okay, he said he was in love with me even then, and I was trying to believe that, but who got married hoping someone would end up falling in love with them? That was like something out of the eighteen hundreds with arranged marriages so the farm could get bigger. And then, of course, I’d run off. Let’s see them avoid assigning me that blame. Because who else would be responsible?

Nobody, that was who.

I sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Angie frowned. “I’m overstepping, aren’t I? Maybe you and I can furniture shop together. This is your home, after all, not mine. I’d love to make a little table and chairs your wedding gift, though.”

I froze. I hadn’t meant to sigh aloud. I cleared my throat. “Oh. Um.”

I glanced at Tristan. He just raised his eyebrows and waited.

Awesome. So helpful. “Sure. I’d like that?”

“We’ll go tomorrow after you’re finished at work.” Angie didn’t seem to care that my response had been the furthest thing from sure as possible. But then, that was how she’d always been. She could be a bit of a steamroller, but no one noticed until afterward, because she was so sweet and gentle about it. “I’ll come meet you at the bookstore. There has to be a furniture store in Old Town, right?”

I honestly had no idea. “I’ll do some searching and figure it out.”

“Perfect.” Angie scooped the last of her small bowl of soup into her mouth, then stood.

“Don’t even think about the dishes, Mom. You made dinner. I’ll clean up.” Tristan held out his hand for her bowl.

She sent him a dazzling smile. “I knew I raised you right. And tonight I’m so tired I’m not even going to argue. If the rest of you don’t mind, I’m going to head to bed.”

“I’m right behind you, Ang.” Steve used the last of his bread to wipe the inside of his bowl. With a wink, he handed the dish to Tristan. “You won’t even need to wash that one.”

“Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll do it anyway. Just for fun.”

Steve laughed and stood. “Suit yourself. See you two in the morning.”

“Good night.” I leaned forward and put my bowl on the coffee table.

“Are you done?” Tristan eyed my half-eaten soup.

I nodded. “I can help with the cleanup.”

“I won’t say no.” He stood and carried the dishes over to the island and set them down. “But first, come here.”

He opened his arms and I found myself walking into them and wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I missed you today.”

His words made me smile. I snuggled my head into his shoulder. “You’re strange.”

He chuckled.

“I’m not wrong. You saw me this morning. Normal people don’t spend all day with their spouse.” Not that there had been much normal about any aspect of our relationship. Ever. But still.

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