Page 57 of Perfect Boy

His face grows strained. But like always, he tries to hide it. “He can’t have any contact with the outside world for the first two weeks of being there.” He pauses, like he isn’t sure if he should say the rest or not. “Withdrawals can be pretty bad, I guess. And it’s part of the rehab’s protocol. But honestly, it’s probably for the best. If he talked to any of us, it’d likely just make him want to come home that much more, I’m sure. And he’s right where he needs to be. Even though it fucking sucks.”

“I’m sorry, Watson. I know you’re worried about him.”

“Thanks. I am. But he’ll be home before we know it, and he’ll be back to the Cade we all love.” He cringes. “The past few months, he wasn’t himself. I should have talked to him sooner, but what the fuck do you say in that situation? Like…Hey, I think you seem high. I’m scared. Maybe you should go to rehab.” He frowns, shaking his head. “Onto something less depressing…are you busy tomorrow?”

“I just have practice for The Nutcracker early in the morning. I’ll be done by nine thirty,” I say quickly, wanting to spend time with him. “Are you asking me to hang out with you, Gentry?”

“I have something up my sleeve.” He winks. “I have to review some game tape first thing in the morning, but that won’t take long. After that…I’m free until the following afternoon for practice. I thought…maybe we could sneak away for the night.”

“Oh…like, an overnight trip?” I swallow, feeling butterflies going wild in my stomach.

“I still haven’t taken you on a honeymoon,” he says, half-joking. “Maybe this can count? Until, that is, we take off for a week to somewhere with a white sand beach.”

I tense up. He has plans. Big plans. Me? I’m trying to just sort out the fact that we hooked up. Again. And that, if he wanted to, I’d have sex with him right now.

“Ryann, it’ll be fun, I promise,” he adds, giving me a slight squeeze. “But no pressure if you aren’t comfortable going. We can always just do something during the day.”

“I’d love to go away with you overnight.” I nod. “Sounds fun.”

“Hell yes. Let’s do it then.” He leans down, murmuring against my hair, “Hey, when is this Nutcracker show?”

Panic sears through me. Not because of the actual show. But because he’s asking about it. If he’s asking, he might be thinking about going. Dancing with him was one thing. Dancing in front of him? A whole different story. There’s going to be hundreds of people at this show. Yet I’m only scared of messing up in front of Watson.

“It’s in a little over a week,” I squawk. “Why?”

“Because I want to get my ticket, obviously,” he deadpans. “What’s your role in it?” He pauses. “Did I say that right? Part? Or…position? No, that’s not it.”

“The Sugar Plum Fairy.” I chew my lip. “You really don’t have to come to it though. It’s a long show. You’d be bored.”

“Bullshit. Of course I’m coming to support my wife.” He scoffs. “I don’t know much about this Nutcracker business, but I know that role is important.”

I smile proudly. Poppy and I have the two biggest roles in the show. Her as Clara and me as the Sugar Plum Fairy. It’s not like it’s the most important performance I’ll ever have. But growing up, I always performed as a background dancer at my town’s local Nutcracker. This time, I get to be the main person.

Aside from Watson and Sutton, I don’t have anyone coming to watch me. But I consider myself lucky to have them because, growing up, whenever I starred in anything, I was that kid who had no one in the stands.

“If you really don’t want me there, I won’t come,” he says, forcing me to look up at him by cupping my cheek. “But I’d really love to watch you do your thing.”

“I’m just…” I stop, looking down as my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Hey. Talk to me.” He dips his forehead to mine. “Please.”

My eyes meet his. “I’m just not used to having anyone there watch me. You know, like solely watching me. Sure, I’ve been in a lot of plays and dances, but I’ve never had anyone—besides Riley a few times—focus their attention on me.” I swallow. “I’ll probably mess up.”

He slides his hand to my hairline. “Tiny Dancer, you could make even messing up look beautiful. I promise you that.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “But something tells me you won’t mess up at all. They didn’t choose you for that part for no reason. And I’d really, really like to see my wife be the star of the show. If it’s all right with you, that is.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I let it out before nodding against him. “All right. I’d…I’d love to have you there.” Pulling back, I point my finger at him. “But if I mess up or fall on my face, don’t you dare laugh.”

“If I make you nervous enough to fall on your face, I can’t promise anything.” He grins down at me.

“You do not make me nervous.” I roll my eyes. “It’s just…I—”

Sliding his hand into my hair, he kisses me, shutting me up right then. Because we both know he does make me nervous.

And when he pulls me closer to him as our mouths collide, I swear, all is right in the world.

This man is too good for me.

He’s too good for a fake marriage and a half-assed wife.

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