Page 45 of Just My Fake Husband

I see out of the corner of her eye her mouth dropping open in an air of disbelief.

“Well, I thought it would be as boring and basic as a wedding could be. If beige were a wedding, that’s what I thought we’d get.”

“I thought it would be more greige,” I add.

“But it wasn’t,” she says. “Milo should consider becoming a vicar in the English countryside. He’s good.”

“Right?”

If she thinks that kiss was beige or greige, I will defend my stance on it to the grave. Even thinking of it now, my footbecomes leaden on the gas pedal as my knees bounce with adrenaline.

“Um, would you mind not trying to win Nascar right now?” She’s clutching the steadying handle on her side door. “We’re on Lakeside Road, for heaven’s sake. There are a lot of wildlife and hikers around here.”

I ease my foot off the gas pedal and resume a respectable speed.

“Thanks,” she says. “But at least it’s over.” She sighs and slips her shoes off.

“You might have just hurt the one feeling I have by being so excited for the wedding to be over, River.”

“I’ve never gotten married for pretend before. It was strange.” She gasps and points her finger in the air. “Scratch that. I got married to Tyson Hildegrant in the second grade during recess one time. So, there’s that.”

“You’re practically an expert.”

“Indeed.” Then she gasps again and whips her head around to look at me. “Are you calling me easy?”

“No,” I sputter. “That’s not what I—”

She laughs, pressing a hand to her middle. “I’m kidding. So, any big plans tonight?”

I actually had gotten a few very bland, non-coupleish things to do just in case. Some card and board games, and I’d made a list of movies we could download and watch, if she wanted.

“Well, since we won’t be having a typical wedding night, we’d better come up with something we can do.” Like not focusing on exactly what’snothappening tonight.

“I’ll probably just go to bed. To sleep,” she clarifies. “I’m exhausted.”

“Speaking of bed . . .” I hesitate. I probably should have talked to her about this earlier. “I have a really nice bed for you. And since my place is more like a cottage than a house, I’m firing upthe old air mattress in the living room. I thought I’d explain so things weren’t weird when we got there, you know?”

“Oh, I think things are going to be weird regardless, but . . .” she says. “I’m not going to let you do that. I’ll take the air mattress.”

“No, you won’t. I’m not going to put my . . . my wife . . . on the floor tonight.”

“It’s hard to say, right?” Her brown eyes scrunch together, and she smiles. “Your wife. My husband.” I can see from the corner of my eye that she’s stretching out her mouth at odd angles. “Wife.” Stretch. Stretch. “Husband.” She shudders.

I tip my head in a chuckle.

“Anyway, I’m not taking the one bed you have at your house. I’m fine on the floor,” she says.

“River, listen. This is my house, my rules. It’s not up for discussion. End of story. Period.”

“Wow. Look at you, going all Tate on me.”

“Tate on you?”

She waves me off. “It’s nothing. I have to make a phone call.” She calls Skye, who’s on her way to her new home, and gives her instructions, reassuring her again that Jana has her dog safely in a kennel at her house, that everything’s going to be fine, and she’ll come by tomorrow to visit her in her new place.

When she gets off the phone, she’s got tears in her eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

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