Page 91 of Just My Fake Husband

From across the room, Alec croons. “Maybe she’s calling to tell you some big news!”

“Shut up,” Oliver says before answering. “Hey, Soph.”

Henry gives a gentle slug on Milo’s arm. “Glad you’re so happy. Let us know if you need anything, okay?” and then he walks away.

It’s just Sebastian and me left, and we exchange a glance. Suddenly, Milo pipes up. “I messed up.”

What? I shunt out a breath. Déjà vu. “Uh, I know how you feel,” I say.

Milo knows how many ways I screwed up a couple of months ago. He sighs, looking at me, then Sebastian, and then me again. He doesn’t look sorry for whatever he did. “I was distracted, and I wasn’t thinking, you know?”

Sebastian’s jaw hardens. “Did you get in an accident?” He presses a hand to Milo’s forehead like he’s testing for a fever.

“What? No,” Milo insists, laughing. “I didn’t mean to say anything. It sort of came out because I had so many questions in my brain.” His speech picks up speed the more he gets into it. His gaze focuses on Sebastian and me. “Like, you guys, what do I want out of life? What’s my purpose? Why am I here.Here, here. You know? In Longdale.” He shakes his head. “Nothereas inalive on the Earth.” He exhales and massages his brow, his grin curling his lips again. “You go your whole life thinking things are a certain way and then BAM! You do one crazy, mixed up, totally irrational thing and then . . .” He shucks his hands to cover his mouth and nose and breathes out like he’s taking care of a whole slew of birthday candles, then lowers his hands. “Nothing makes sense anymore. Everything’s shaken up like a baby bottle.” He chuckles, like he’s cracked himself up in a way that no one else can understand.

“Why don’t you start explaining what this insane thing was and then we might be able to answer your questions,” Sebastian says.

“No, Zeb. You’ll judge me or make up my mind for me or tell me I’m crazy.” Milo scratches his head. “But I’m not. I’ve never been so clear-minded in my whole life.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Sebastian says with a grunt and then walks away.

“Gabriel?” He pauses and finally meets my eyes.

That he’s calling me by my real name pricks up my alarm even more. I nod to encourage him.

“I wanted to apologize in advance.” He leans over to give my shoulder a hearty pat. “But you gotta know, man, that as messed up as all of this is, I’ve never known anything like it.”

“What did you do?” I demand. The TV is suddenly muted, the room hushed. I did not intend for everyone to hear that.

It takes me a second to realize it didn’t grow quiet because of me. It’s because my dad and River are standing in the doorway.

Chapter 32

River

Thomas Tate’s caustic energy is oozing from every pore as he hulks in the doorway of my office on the main floor of Tate International.

“We need to have a long conversation with your . . . husband,” he sneers.

I consider telling him off, but in the end, I bite back any retorts forming in my head.

Because I’m such a dutiful daughter-in-law, I follow his business-suited form down the hall. Maybe I’m propelled by a sick curiosity.

Thomas gets in the elevator but when he stops it from closing on me, I grin. “I’ll take the stairs, thanks,” I say as I spin around.

I’m not looking forward to going up four flights—have mercy—but it’s a bajillion times better than riding in an elevator with Mr. Tate.

I’d spent my Saturday morning getting breakfast with Jana, going on and on about my husband. It’s been a week since our artificial marriage became real, and I’ve been dying to talk with her about it. It’s not like I can say these things to anyone else. Everyone else thinks it’s been real from the start.

Then she dropped me off at work so I could tweak the press releases for Elianna’s theater company. After some bonding with his brothers over football, Gabriel and I are going to pick up Skye and bring her to the cottage. She’s reached the point in her time at Caring Souls where the therapist thinks she’s ready for a short visit away.

And then, we can take her back and finally go out on a real dinner date. You know. No big whoop. I’m going to be dating my new husband.

And then we get to go back home. Together.

“Home.” I like the sound of that.

When I arrive at the suite, Thomas is trying to open the door. “Open it,” he says, gesturing to my key card, his voice rough.

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