Page 62 of Just My Fake Husband

So, that’s why he’s giving me anniversary gifts? Because we’re acting?

I mean, I know that. I know we’re pretending. But the gift felt . . . intimate. Never thought a paper craft of barely passable quality could feel intimate, but it did. And I didn’t think I was imagining things when, every morning, he looks a little forlorn while dropping me off and then excited to see me when he picks me up.

Apparently, I did imagine it.

Because we’re only acting.

Chapter 22

Gabriel

The string quartet my mom hired is playing soft music as River and I stand at the back of the clearing at the resort. Our family’s makeshift football field has been transformed. It’s the edge of summer, and the surrounding trees provide a nice wind break.

River is next to me, though I don’t turn to look at her. I made that mistake a few minutes ago, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

This is a business arrangement. Yes, we’re living in a tiny cottage together. I drive her everywhere she needs to go, to and from work, to and from Skye’s home unless Jana can. But we sleep in separate beds, except for that one night that we’ve never talked about.

My mom put together a beautiful reception. Thankfully, it could pass for simply a nice party. None of this “Mr. and Mrs.” themed décor nonsense.

River seems to agree with the sentiment, as she’s spent a large portion of the night not standing near me, her “loving husband.” River’s independent. Hopefully no one suspects that anything’s amiss.

Because she’s been distant the last few days.

And then there’s my father. He’s barely said a word to either of us all night, just watching with hawklike eyes.

It’s a small affair. A few friends and a couple of cousins. All of my sisters-in-law and brothers are here, including Benson. Our niece, Navie, is wearing a flower girl dress and is garnering more attention than River and I are, which is fine by me.

I imagine this whole thing is for my mom anyway. She’s getting her strength back after her recent health problems. So, it’s a celebration for her and her health as much as it is for our wedding.

Which is a sham.

And it’s going to hurt her when it ends.

Aunt Stella walks up, holding Navie’s hand on one side and arm and arm with Skye on the other. Skye took to her right as she arrived and, as I predicted, Stella is eating all this up.

“My darlings!” Stella croons, pulling River and me into a hug. Luckily for me, River happened to be nearby. Stella’s eyes are gleaming as her gaze goes back and forth between us. “As surprising as this is, I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” River says with a smile. She looks at me. “I’ve gotten to know Stella when she’s visited the family at the resort.”

“I couldn’t have handpicked a better wife for you, Gabriel. River’s special. And so is her sister, Skye.” Stella pulls Skye closer, then grasps River’s cheek. “I just hope you two can make it work and be happy with one another and all that jazz.” Stellagives me a pointed look before moving on to my brother. And now alarms are going off in my head.

Does she know something? Did Milo tell her?

I don’t have time to try to suss out Milo because there’s suddenly a frisson happening next to me. I don’t see it because I’m trying to avoid staring at my bride. But I feel it, this flicker of unease.

“Antonio?” River gusts out a breathy laugh, something I’ve never heard her do before. It’s . . . exaggerated but very real. And charming.

The man tilts his head towards me. His tight, black curls brush his shoulders and fall in front of his face. “Dude, can I hug your wife?” he asks with a confident grin.

It’s a display of courtesy, but there’s a playfulness to it, a history between them.

History lifts off both of them like the scent of cabbage—obvious and unpleasant. And though it’s none of my business who my wife has a past with and there’s nothing I can do about it now, I’m jealous.

Plainly, stupidly jealous that he’s known her for longer than I have.

I bite the inside of my cheek and feel River’s gaze swivel to mine. Just as I say, “Be my guest,” River clicks her tongue.

“I’m not his property!” She glances at me over her shoulder, steps toward this Antonio person, and wraps her arms around him. “I can hug whomever I want.” And now she’s giggling as she and Antonio hug an inordinately long amount of time. I search the attendees to see if my dad is seeing this.

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