Page 77 of Love in Fine Print

“Wedding number six was circus-themed. There were clowns, a tiger, a bearded lady, and a fire eater. Even though that one was a literal circus, they all felt like circuses to me. So, I don’t know, I’ve always wanted something small, really small. No more than a dozen guests. Just the people closest to us. And, don’t get me wrong, our venue was amazing; I’m so grateful to Bailey for getting it last minute, but I always wanted to get married somewhere…I don’t know…personal. Somewhere that my husband and I could go back to every year on our anniversary, and it would mean something to us. Not just because we got married there, but because of the significance of the place.”

My heart broke a little for her. Those weren’t huge requests. If she was with someone who she loved, who loved her, that could have easily been her love story. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being the man who made your dreams come true.”

Her lips pursed slightly, and her shoulders tensed. And just like that, her walls were back up.

“I’m tired.” She stood suddenly. “I’m gonna go to bed. See you tomorrow.”

Before I’d even stood, she was halfway up the stairs. I had no clue what I’d said to make her go back into her turtle shell of protection, but I wanted to kick my own ass for saying it. Getting Olivia to open up was definitely a one-step forward, three-steps back situation. Some people might get frustrated or give up, but I was always up for a challenge and believed that the only things in life worth having were things you worked for. Thankfully, in this case, time was on my side. I had eleven more months to work for Olivia Bradshaw’s trust.

Game on.

33

OLIVIA

The sky was stilldark as I stood in the kitchen preparing my coffee for the day. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour, and when it did, I planned on being gone.

Every year on Thanksgiving, I volunteered at the mission, handing out dinners. This year, I’d signed up for my usual shift of six am to noon. After that, I always went to watch a movie. Even the years I’d been in relationships, I’d never spent the holidays with a significant other. For some reason, it felt too intimate…too personal to share those special days with them.

As I filled my insulated Yeti coffee mug to the brim, the light from above the oven caught in my diamond ring, causing a rainbow effect to dance over the white subway tile backsplash. A small niggle of guilt tickled in my chest that I was sneaking out of the house on Thanksgiving morning and planned to stay gone all day.

Ben and I hadn’t discussed our Thanksgiving plans. Part of the reason the subject may not have come up was because I’d been staying late,reallylate until the wee hours of the early morning, at the office every night since we’d watched our wedding video montage together two weeks ago.

I’d also been going in early. Really early.

Trevor had noticed my new schedule and, of course, had something to say about it. Thankfully, my workload supported my hours so even though he had his suspicions that I was avoiding my husband, he couldn’t prove his case.

Eight out of the twelve nights I’d been at the office until after one in the morning, Ben had dropped off dinners for me. The other four, I’d had business dinners. Otherwise, I was sure it would have been twelve out of twelve.

As much as I appreciated the optics of my doting husband bringing in a home-cooked meal to me at the office, it was irritating me. I knew I was being ridiculous. He was going above and beyond to be the best fake husband anyone had ever had, and all it was doing was annoying me.

It didn’t make sense. But the more time I spent away from him, the more agitated I got. Which, in the long run, was probably for the best. If I didn’t like the man, walking away from him at the end of this would be a lot easier.

I popped the lid on my mug and turned around. When I did, I came face to face with a shirtless Ben wearing only a pair of gray sweats. They might have even been the same gray sweats that I’d seen him wearing the first day in the park. Just like the first day, my mouth watered at the sight.

“Where are you going?”

“Um, I am going to volunteer. I do it every year.”

He lifted his hand and rubbed his eye. “Oh, okay. Give me ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” I asked, my heart thudding against my chest as saliva flooded my mouth.

“Yeah, I’ll grab a quick shower and change.”

“For what?”

“To go with you.”

“You want to go with me?”

“Of course. It’s Thanksgiving. You’re my wife.”

With that, he turned and took the steps two at a time. I told myself not to stare at his ass as he made his way up the steps, but it was difficult not to do. He really did have a delectable butt. It was probably because he was an athlete.

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