Page 23 of Just My Fake Husband

I grab the hair on the top of my head. I should probably stop doing that but right now, I don’t care. “Are you mad at me for saying you’re attractive? Or do you just want to pick a fight?”

“Answer my question. You could easily marry someone unattractive. Or would that be too unbelievable? That someone of your degree of handsomeness would ever stoop so low as to marry an average-looking woman?”

I whistle low. “My mind is blown in so many directions right now. I feel like this is a trap. No matter what I say, it will be wrong.”

She laughs. But then her chin goes high, challenging me.

When it’s clear she’s not going to let me off the hook on this, I venture a try. “So I’ll say one thing. And that is . . .”

Leaning back against her broken down car, her eyes are glittering in the moonlight. I face her and place both hands against the car on either side of her. She doesn’t shrink back. If anything, she leans towards me, and her mouth falls open the smallest amount. Her breathing quickens and her tongue darts out to touch the top of her upper lip. It’s cruel for her to expect me to not be attracted tothatlittle move.

“The person I marry, whenever that may be and whoever that may be, is going to be attractiveto me,” I say. “Because that’s how it works. And I wouldn’t care if no one else thought she was attractive.” My gaze sweeps across the planes of her face. “She could be considered average or whatever you want to call it, but it’s not because I think I’m all that. It’s because, in a marriage, you have to be attracted to the other person, knowing full well that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I lean in further. “I don’t give a rat’s behind about if she’s considered attractive to other people. We just have to have that spark, you know? It’s about what I feel when I’m around her.”

I wrap my hand around her lower back, and she shunts in a breath at my touch. “And you feel stuff? When you’re around me?” she asks, breathless. Her brown eyes widen.

I chuckle, easing myself even closer. “I feel a lot of things. Annoyance, frustration, irritation.”

At her small squeak of indignation, I switch gears. “But yes, I’m attracted to you. I can admit it.”

And I’m drawn to her lips, the way she’s pouting and frowning, clearly irritated by me, too.

My phone rings and we startle apart. It’s my aunt Stella and, as I answer it, I’m grateful for the reprieve from River.

“Gabriel, I heard about everything.” Stella’s voice is grave.

I start walking back up the road aways. “Of course you did. Who told you? My mom or my dad?”

“They both did. Sweetheart, you know there’s no judgment from me, right? I figure you’ve heard enough of that from my brother.”

A stone forms in my throat, and I fight to get it to calm down so I can answer her. How is this my life now?

“You could say that.” I wait, at war with how much to ask. “How’s my mom holding up?” I screw my eyes shut. Do I even want to know the answer to that?

“Your mom is strong. She’s okay. She wants to know if you’ll be okay.”

I’m ten years old again, in Stella’s little rambler in Longdale. She’s both mom and dad, while ours are away working for Foundations all summer. Every summer.

She’s sussing me out and loving me in the way that only she can.

“It’s all good,” I assure her. “I just have to deal with it.”

When she doesn’t respond, I cave. Of course she knows it’s not all good.

“I’mgoingto be okay, eventually.” I want to smooth things over, not justify my actions, but I want to help Stella and my mom understand that things weren’t as bad as they looked. “Those photos do not paint an accurate picture, Stella. And the drinking? It was only the second time in my life. I hadn’t since the night I turned twenty-one.”

She’s quiet, and the only thing I hear from her end is the sound of her dogs barking. Finally, she starts to speak. “I believe you, Gabriel.” She breathes in and then lets out a long sigh. “What’s the next step for you?”

I glance at River, who’s got her head tilted back, still leaning against her car, looking up at the stars. “I’m trying to figure that out.”

“Well, I trust you to do what’s right for you. Know that we love you, okay?”

I tell her that I love her, too. Stella’s love is so freely given that it’s natural to say it back.

Before she ends the call, she spits out, “And call your mother back, Gabriel!”

I will. I guess talking with Stella makes it feel a little more possible.

Right as I pocket my phone, River’s rings.

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