Page 15 of Just My Fake Husband

“If the terms are right,” I remind him. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Of course.”

“You ready to tell me what happened in Prague?”

He blows out a long breath. “I guess it’s only fair.”

“I honestly can’t help you until you do.” I try to laugh to ease the tension. “Them’s the breaks!”

“Right. Well . . .” He grabs at the top of his hair, mussing it, but doing nothing to mar its beauty. Also of note: the dimples are loud and proud today. “Thirty-eight days ago, my friend Todd got dumped by his girlfriend. He was devastated. They’d been together a long time.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “It was a lot, you know? So Todd asked me to fly to Prague with him. He knew this great bar there.” He rolls his eyes. “I felt it would be irresponsible of me to just let him go there alone. He was in a bad place.” Gabriel’s not meeting my gaze. His knee is bobbing up and down. “So anyway, we get to Prague. We . . . party. I’m a lightweight. I’d only ever had an alcoholic beverage on my twenty-first birthday, and I hated it. But something about my friends’ sadness just . . . I don’t know. I wasn’t being smart. And this isn’t his fault, of course. I’m responsible for my choices.”

I nod. First intelligent thing he’s said so far. “And then what?”

“I was tipsy and trying to play some casino games like roulette and poker.”

“No!”

“Exactly. And, like I said, I lost a lot of money. The bank alerted my dad since it was from a joint account. The same account that I was going to use to start my own non-profit and he’d match dollar for dollar once it had hit a certain amount.”

Gabriel pauses, his gaze flicking over me, seeming to measure just how much I understood about the gravity of what he’d done. Oh, I do. He gambled away funds he’d saved up forcharity.

Yikes, Gabriel Tate.

“My dad cut off my access to the company’s accounts so I wouldn’t blow through those too, not that I would have because at that point, things were beginning to sink in. He called me in the middle of the night to tell me I was fired. Then called me inthe morning saying, again, that I was fired, in case I didn’t hear it the first time. And this time around, it was because the board was forcing him to. They’d had an emergency meeting. Decided it was best for the company that I was let go. There were photos that had been posted online. With my name and the name of the company.” He bites down on his bottom lip. “Photos of Todd and me with several women in the casino. I give you my word, nothing happened.” He meets my gaze, reading me, asking me to believe him. “But it looked like a lot of stuff had happened or would be happening, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay. Wow.” I nod rapidly, grasping for anything I could say that would be appropriate. “I appreciate the honesty.”

I did and I didn’t. It’s a little weird that the wunderkind of the Tate family could be so . . . wretched.

Can we just go back in time and not do this right now? Hearing these bad things feels wrong. I slide forward and back in the glider chair. When he doesn’t say anything, I speak again. “No wonder you didn’t want to tell me.”

He gives me this look like,Right?And then musses the front of his hair again.

“Okay, so, what happened next?”

He tells me about going on this pilgrimage without his phone to try to find himself and make penance for what he’d done, but that it mostly gave him some wicked blisters and helped him meet some cool people who were also feeling lost in their lives. And it only solidified his desire to get his job back.

“So that’s where I come in?”

“Yes.” But there’s something in his expression, a hesitation.

“Again, like I said before, time is of the essence, but it’s not too late to try,” I offer. “I can draw up some plans and have them ready for you tomorrow.” I channel my best Buffy Summers vibe. Strong. Fierce. While still being inexplicably cordial. “I need to know about financial compensation, though.”

“Of course.”

Skye swoops in, a large pretzel stick hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. Lunch Lady Liz is on her heels as they rush over to Gabriel. Skye’s such a social butterfly.

“Yeah, boooyyeee!” Skye says, holding up her fist.

Alrighty then. I guess we’re doing this right now. I offer a laugh. “Gabriel, meet my sister, Skye. Apparently, she likes to quote Flavor Flav. Skye, this is Gabriel.”

He smiles and stands, holding out his fist to bump hers. “You have good taste in rappers, Skye,” he says.

She adjusts her pretzel cigar to one side and starts rapping, flailing her elbows and bouncing up and down on her knees, like she’s a DJ. When she giggles, Gabriel does, too and joins in.

“How do you both know all the words?” What has Skye been listening to while I’m at work? Would her media usage be monitored at Caring Souls? Jana says so, but who knows how well? I’ve put good filters on all our devices, but still.

Gabriel doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his magnetic, blue eyes light up. And he’s a good hip-hop dancer.

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