Page 87 of Marrying Off My Husband

“So, am I…just…more than one of them.”

His eyes narrowed at me, and he searched my face for answers.

“I want an open relationship. You know? I see you…I see Tom, I see Joe. I see a few men.”

“What?” He wrinkled his nose.

“An open relationship. Oh, and you get to see other women, too. I’m not psychotic.”

His eyes slid from side to side. “Are-are you joking?”

“I’m not,” I answered. “You’re not interested in this?”

His head wagged before his words came out. “No. I’m…I want a committed relationship.”

“Well, we can be committed, darlin’. But we can also see other people.”

“I’m really not interested in that.”

I pulled my head away with a heavy sigh. “I just can’t believe this. I’m just shocked at the number of men who don’t want to date a variety of beautiful women.”

“Oh, if you’re…if you suggested this because you think that’s what men want, it’s not. It’s definitely not.”

I raised my gaze to his, keeping my features innocent. “No, that’s not it. It’s what I want. I just can’t seem to find enough men interested in this. Well, whatever. I suppose we can still enjoy our meal.”

He dug into his pocket and tossed a few bills on the table. “I’d really rather not. Feel free to eat on me, and, uh…good luck with your…preferences.”

With that, Justin Hartwell fled across the crowded bar and disappeared through the door. I grinned as I leaned back against the wooden booth. I’d papered over that nicely if I did say so myself.

And now all I had to do was make sure Spencer’s relationship was moving forward before I had to ditch another date.

My mind wandered to his soup venture, wondering if Eve had taken well to it. I’d have to slyly find out the next time I talked to her–which I’d do soon.

But a statement he’d made to me earlier rattled around in my head, making me concerned for their relationship. His firstreaction to her text had been that she was lying. Did he really not trust Eve?

If he didn’t, I had some work to do because I was determined to make certain they fell in love. Even if it killed me.

CHAPTER 21

SPENCER

Ipaused, my forehead wrinkling before I slid the chopped parsley toward the boiling broth, suddenly concerned that Eve would hate parsley. It had such little taste, though.

I swallowed hard, frozen by the unforeseen fear that this was a terrible, awful idea.

What if Eve had wanted to cancel the date because she didn’t want to see me? She could have easily lied.

It had happened to me in the past. I’d learned the hard way, then, not to trust people.

The light-colored broth bubbled in front of me, the fragrant steam floating up to my nostrils as I set the cutting board aside, my features crinkling.

I’d busily prepared the soup after Louise had suggested it. Eve had sounded sick on the phone. She could have faked it though.

With a shaky hand, I gave the pot a stir before I dunked a small ladle into it and took a sip. It tasted good to me, but would Eve like it? I didn’t want her to hate it.

But that wasn’t what I was really worried about, to be honest. I stared down at the leafy flakes of parsley on the cutting board before I shook my head.

I was worried I’d go over to her apartment and find out that she was lying. Nightmare scenario after nightmare scenario raced through my mind. I imagined spotting Eve through the window, cuddled on the couch with another man.

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