Page 16 of Just My Fake Husband

Of course he is.

A lot of people don’t know what to do around Skye. Most are polite, some ignore her. The rare few who actually talk to her? Who try to get to know her? They make my heart hurt with gratitude.

And that’s exactly what Gabriel is doing right now.

He’s talking to her like she’s more than simply a person with a disability. And Lunch Lady Liz is already in love with him, jumping up on him and trying to lick his arm.

As quickly as she came, Skye leaves for the kitchen, saying she needs more pretzels.

Okay. Why did he have to go and do a thing like that? Be all kind and normal to my sister? Reminds me of articles I read about him immersing himself in the causes he and his dad’scompany believes in. He doesn’t just shuffle money around from his coffers to a list of charities. He’s right there, in the trenches, visiting hospitals and animal shelters and memory care facilities. He’s created amazing corporate partnerships and held event fundraisers. There are rumors he also donates and helps anonymously, too.

“Wow, she’s great,” he says, chuckling. A casual buzz of energy is flowing off him. Skye tends to have that effect on people if they give her a chance.

“She really is.” I swallow hard. “She’s actually the reason I called you about this job.” I chew my bottom lip. “She’s been on the waiting list to get into Caring Souls for like forever. It’s an adult care center for women like her. I have mixed feelings about her being ready for a big step like that, but she’s got her stubborn little heart set on it. They called us saying they have an opening but it’s a crap ton of money, so I need all the fundage I can get.”

“Wait. Caring Souls in Tollark, right?”

“How did you—”

“My family and I have associated with them for years. I’ve visited and gotten to know some of the residents.”

“You’re kidding! Can you get them to offer us a discount?” I say it as a joke. One of those jokes you know is too ridiculous to come true, but man, wouldn’t that be great if they did?

He looks thoughtful. “Maybe.”

I press out a hand in a stop motion. “I wasn’t serious. I don’t want you to—”

“I know. No. I’ll see what I can do.” He’s grasping his chin, the wheels turning in his head.

“It’s just too much money. I don’t have it. I was about to turn them down and relinquish her spot, but then I thought if I did some extra work on the side for you . . .” I scrub my face and sit back down on the rocking chair. “You know what? I don’t knowwhy I’m telling you this. It’s not fair to unload my issues on you. That was unprofessional of me.”

“No. It’s good. You asked me to be honest with you about stuff.” He sits back down and is doing that guy thing of bending at the waist and resting his forearms on his thighs. Casually handsome is what that should be called. “Sounds like your sister’s care is your responsibility?”

“Yes. It has been for a few years now.” I’m not going to tell him about my parents yet. “So anyway, what I’m trying to say is every little bit helps, so I’d be happy to do this job for you.”

“What if it were more than a little bit?”

“Huh?”

“Well.” He licks his lips and mutters under his breath. “Like a Band-Aid—right off.” Then louder, the muscles of his jaw tense and he says, “I’d like to ask you to marry me.”

An unladylike burst of laughter comes forth from my lungs. Sort of like a hee-hawing donkey.

“I’m serious.” His face is grave. Even his dimples seem serious.

I laugh again, but then I jolt from the chair, the one my parents rocked Skye and me in when we were babies. When it glides forward and hits the back of my knees, I barely register it. I open my mouth but no words are coming. No air is coming.

“For business purposes only.” He’s still leaning forward. So casual. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage.”

“What?”

“For business purposes only,” he repeats.

“I heard that. But I don’t understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.” I grab at the crease between my eyebrows and start to pace. “You’re actually asking me to marry you?”

“Yes. I realize this is a big ask. An unorthodox ask.”

“Unorthodox? No, that was when you came to my office asking for PR help.Thatwas unorthodox. This? This is . . .” I trail off, licking my lips. I’m suddenly very parched.

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