Page 31 of Just My Fake Husband

I shake my head. “Jana can.” Another thought comes to me. “How are you able to afford all this? You’re not working right now.”

“I still have my freelance consulting work. I have several clients I’ve been working with on the side and that’s bringing in money. Plus, I cashed out a couple of other accounts I’d been adding to the past few years. It’s fine.”

I nod. “And will you send the money for Skye to me? Or to the group home?”

He cocks his head to one side. “As your fiancé, I’ll pay them directly.”

Holy crap. I have a fiancé.

Making a face, he goes on. “You’ll also see in the contract a possible addition of money for you to buy a different car, in the event the garage can’t repair it.”

“Wait. I’m not getting a different car.”

“What if you don’t have any other choice? Besides, the Civic is old. It’s probably smarter to sell it for parts and get something more reliable.”

How dare he suggest that? “It was my dad’s car. I’m never getting rid of it.”

Gabriel only moistens his lips and goes onto the next page. The first line item makes my cheeks burn. It shouldn’t since this is a business arrangement. “No sexual relations.” I nod. “Good. Glad that’s established.” I don’t even look up. I don’t want to know what the look on his face is.

“And while in public, we have to act like a married couple. Makes sense.” I shiver when I think of how it felt when he enveloped me in that hug, once I got over the initial shock. I know it was for show . . . so Trevor would be convinced andhopefully spread the word far and wide. But in some small way, it felt real. Which is exactly why I must keep my wits about me.

I read further. “And we’ll live in the same house for the year we’re married.” I swallow hard. “A year. It feels so long.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.” He’s sitting, leaning forward, his forearms on his thighs, his gaze on the floor, like he’s just been sentenced to a year in the state pen.

The next paragraph makes me gasp. “Next week? We’re getting married next week?”

“We can get married the same day we get the license. It’ll be a brief, casual ceremony. No guests. Just you and me. Two insanely in love people not wanting to wait another second before they start their new life together.” He smirks.

I click my tongue, my voice wobbling. “Such a mockery of the institution of marriage.” I wasn’t planning on going deep right now, but I did, and the emotion of it surprises me.

He seems a little stunned by my remark, but I don’t give him a chance to respond because I have more to say as I read. “And if it’s not working out to live together, we can live apart, discreetly, if we both agree.”

He nods and his look is wary. “If there’s probable cause. And after a thirty-day waiting period.” He clears his throat.

I adjust my seat and chew on my lip. What if he decides I’m not worth it once he gets to know me? How would I feel? I’d take it personally, like I’m not marriage material.

And now, I have to know if he really does see me as marriage material. But I can’t ask him that. I will obsess over it in the privacy of my own head like usual.

I read ahead. “In the event of a thirty-day waiting period, we have to go to marriage counseling semi-weekly? What in the actual heck?”

“It has to be a difficult process to live apart. I don’t need to explain again how important it is to live in the same house and act the part.”

He stands, like he’s done here, and his spicy, clean scent tickles my nose.

“Just out of curiosity, what are some deal breakers for you?” I ask. I have to know. “So I don’t accidentally get on your bad side.” Now I’m the one who smirks.

He hesitates. “My family is . . . for lack of a better word . . . somewhat formal. There are expectations. There are events that require acting a certain way. Like, community things. We have to keep up appearances.”

“So if I’m not formal enough, you’re outta here?”

He hesitates, his dimples curving forlornly. “I think you’ll be fine.”

This focus on whether or not I’m going to be good enough is making me itchy. “And that brings up another point. What are you going to be doing all this time? Playing video games at home? Growing out your toenails? Joining a boardgame club?”

“Does Longdale even have a boardgame club?”

“I have no idea.” Exasperation climbs up the back of my throat. “The point is, I’d feel kind of weird being at work all day while you’re just twiddling your thumbs.”

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