Page 64 of Perfect Boy

Poppy: You’d better. See you soon.

Throwing my head back against the headrest, I squeeze my eyes shut. My stomach churns, and I feel like I could throw up. Taking a breath, I open my eyes and stare straight ahead. I try to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work. Obviously, Watson would be pulled into this—he married me, for crying out loud. Yet here I am, sick over the thought of him getting in trouble. I don’t know what I thought would happen. Of course, if I get in trouble, he will too.

“Ry? What’s going on?” Watson’s voice is filled with worry. “Who was that?”

I swallow thickly. I don’t want to scare Watson. But now that they are asking about him, I can’t keep it from him. It wouldn’t be fair.

“Poppy said that a man was just there, looking for me.” I exhale sharply. “My best guess…it was someone from the immigration office.” Nervously, I look at him. “They were asking about you too, Watson. Not just me.”

His eyes stay on the road, but his body doesn’t tense, like I expected. “What about me?”

“Asking if you lived there.” I gulp. “With me.”

He’s deep in thought, staring at the road and continuing to drive. I don’t say anything because honestly…what is there to say? I’m going down, and I’m taking him with me. And I hate myself for it.

And I’m sure he hates me too. He has every right to. I took advantage of him when he offered to marry me. I knew it wouldn’t be forever, but I was so desperate to stay here. I knew I couldn’t go home to my mom. Too much damage has been done there for me. Maybe Riley can still have that picture-perfect mother everyone dreams of. But me? Forget it. So, I married Watson. And I can’t go back there now.

“You know…” He breaks the silence, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “It would be a major red flag for a married couple to not live together. Right?”

I look over at him, knowing Watson enough to know what he’s going to say. He isn’t going to jump ship. He’d stay on this ship until it was hundreds of feet underwater, resting on the ocean floor with no fight left to give. That’s him.

“Yeah,” I murmur, “I guess so.”

Keep digging this hole deeper. You’re already halfway buried now, Ryann.

“I’ll probably keep my room at the house because I don’t want Hunter to think I’m ditching him. Especially while Cade is in rehab. But obviously, that guy is going to come back, and when he does, we need to be ready. So, I’ll move some of my stuff into your house. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay there sometimes too.” He gives me a tiny grin, but I can tell it’s for my own benefit. “You know, just to be extra convincing and all.”

“You don’t think that’s taking things, like…too far?” I whisper, chewing my bottom lip so hard that I’m surprised I don’t draw blood. “I mean, faking a marriage is bad enough. But living together after knowing each other for such a short amount of time? I don’t know. This all…it’s just getting to be a lot. And I’m dragging you into it deeper and deeper.”

“It isn’t dragging when I’m going willingly.” He brings my hand to his lips. “We’re in this together, Tiny Dancer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stolen you out of your dance practice and convinced you to marry me. And I for sure wouldn’t have gotten down on one knee in the courthouse parking lot and given you a ring.” He sets my hand down, giving it one last reassuring squeeze. “I’m in this, Ryann. I said I do. And I meant it.”

My heart squeezes. I have no idea how someone so selfless could exist. But I’m also not convinced he won’t change his mind and want to split. Maybe I should just trust him at this point. He’s proven time and time again that I can trust him. But that isn’t really the issue. That’s not what is making my stomach feel like a ball of nerves, twisting itself into a knot.

No, what’s doing that is the reality that he could get into trouble. He could lose everything—including his dream of being in the NHL—because of me.

I care about this man.

No…the truth is, I love this man. And love isn’t supposed to be selfish. Yet looking back, that’s all I’ve been.

Before heading to my place, Watson stops at his own house. “I’m going to go grab some of my things. Come in with me,” he says, shifting the truck into park.

When I reach for the door, Watson stops me. “I think we should tell Hunter and Sutton the truth, Ry. The truth about you and the immigration officer showing up at your place. All of it.” He swallows, a nervous look on his face. “I trust Hunter. And I know you trust Sutton. And if shit hits the fan, if that officer dude goes door to door to our friends, asking for the truth, we’re going to need them to know how important it is that they don’t say anything to indicate this isn’t real.” Reaching for me, he brushes his thumb across my lips. “What do you think?”

I sigh the longest sigh. I know he’s right. But still, it’s scary. It also makes me look like a monster for dragging Watson into such a mess.

“Whatever you think we should do, I’ll do it,” I whisper, giving him a tiny nod. “Let’s do it now since both of their cars are here.”

I push the door open and follow him into the house. Right away, my eyes land on Hunter and Sutton, curled up on the couch. Her hair is a mess, and she’s wearing his baggy shirt and sweatpants, making it clear she stayed here last night.

“Hey, y’all,” Watson says, nodding toward them. “How’s it going?”

“She’s making me watch the show Hoarders,” Hunter says with a grimace. “It’s gross.”

“And intriguing,” Sutton adds, pinching his cheek. “Don’t lie, babe. You love it.”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” he utters low enough that I barely hear him, still staring at the TV mindlessly. That is, until Watson walks over and turns it off.

“Thank God,” Hunter whispers, blinking a few times. “I couldn’t stop. It was nasty yet addictive.” He shakes his head.

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