Page 98 of Just My Fake Husband

I guess we’re actually having a picnic on the front lawn of my childhood home. Huh.

By the time I catch up to him, he’s got the blanket spread out neatly and his face is so full of anticipation, I’ve forgiven him entirely for making me do this. I mean, do I sound ungrateful? I probably do. Because Gabriel is setting up a picnic, being all precise with the paper table settings, fussing over setting the clear plastic glasses just so with his dimples totally involved in the care, is the most tender thing.

I wasn’t into this at first, with the weight of my memories like a fog over me. But now? How can I not be? He’s taking care of me. His gaze flicks to me, wanting my approval without me knowing that’s what he’s asking for.

He gestures for me to sit, so I do, bending my legs and tucking them to the side.

The aroma of the pizza is tantalizing. Heavy with acidic sauce and stringy cheese. He sits. Stretches his long legs past me. Leans back a little on his hands.

“Like I said, I contacted the new owners.”

“Because Tates just seem to know how to get stuff like that done.” I nod. I need to get used to the go-get-‘em take on life these people have.

It’s intoxicating.

He only gives me a quick smile, his dimples winking at me. “Turns out they weren’t planning on living here full-time. They live in Salt Lake City but wanted to get a place here for when they visit family.”

“I don’t know why that makes me sad, but it kind of does.”

“But, River, they’re willing to negotiate a sell-back arrangement. They’d make a little money in the process. I explained to them how much this place means to you and Skye.”

“Gabriel, wait. They want to sell the house back to me?”

“To us, yeah. We can live here and that way Skye can have her old room back for visits and Lunchie will have plenty of space. And—”

I’m on my knees, my arms flinging around him wildly as I lean in to kiss him. First his forehead, then his collarbone, then his dimples. Before I take his lips in mine, I stare, and his eyes are trained on me, the depths of the blue pulling me in like metal shavings to magnets.

“I am completely blown away right now. But maybe we could take some time to look for a place of our own?” I swallow away any lingering fears. How can I fear when this man has given me so much care? So much love? “I want to build a life with you, Gabriel, and I want to do it looking forward, not back to the times before. If we lived here, I could see it tethering my heart to the past. As much as I love this old house, we need a fresh start with just us.”

At first, his brows crease together, his gaze sweeping over me. Then, his laugh sparks a smile. “That sounds like the perfect life to me. Us, together, in a place of our own.”

He kisses me, steadily. Thoroughly.

Epilogue

Gabriel

Eleven months later

Gripping a rolled down, oily paper bag, I enter the cottage through the mudroom, Lunchie’s bright bark and rush to greet me making my chest hum.

This life. I can hardly believe it’s mine.

“Happy Anniversary.” River appears in the doorway from the kitchen, wearing a short, black dress and heels. She stretches a hand up along the doorframe and pops a knee. “Which are we doing first? Eating, house hunting, or celebrating in other ways?”

“Other ways.” My answer comes immediately. I bridge the gap and wrap her in my arms, breathing in her vanilla scent andvelvety smooth skin. “You look insanely beautiful.” I drop the bag on the bench so both hands can circle her hips.

She kisses me deeply, and for a moment, I forget everything. The hassles and headaches of starting my own non-profit while simultaneously growing my coaching clientele have been a lot lately. But I’m fulfilled. I love my wife, and I love my dog—that we share with Skye, of course. Skye’s still thriving at Caring Souls, and she even got a part-time job in retail greeting customers.

And in case you’re wondering, we continued with the weekly anniversary gifts all year long. Sometimes it was as simple as a short, handwritten letter or a pack of a favorite brand of gum. Other times, we splurged on jewelry. One week, River gave me a booklet of handmade coupons for things such as “massages administered by my sexy wife” and taking over the bathroom cleaning for the week. I even gave her a new robe, since her old one really had become threadbare. She still wears the purple one on occasion though, thankfully.

River breaks off the kiss. “Lunchie!” she protests, snatching the bag from the dog’s roving nose.

“I agree with the idea of ending the evening with food,” she says. “But you’ve got to let me see what you brought home.” I reach to grab the bag. Come on. I have a speech to share first.

But she’s too quick for me as she dodges away and into the kitchen, unrolling the bag and taking in a big whiff of the contents. “Tacos?” She points to the logo on the bag. “From Casa Queso?” She moans with a “Mmmm. How did you know I was craving Tex Mex?”

“It’s not tacos.”

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