Page 63 of Just My Fake Husband

It’s not good. And not because I feel a surge of very impractical, inconvenient, and illogical jealousy. So many “I” words.

I nearly reach out to pull them apart when they ease out of the hug.

“Oh!” River exclaims, like she forgot I was there. “Gabriel, this is Antonio. Antonio, Gabriel.” She gestures with her fingers, and I catch a gleam from her diamond ring. The diamond I gave her. She points to Antonio. “He’s an old college friend but he now works in Human Relations at Caring Souls. And—” she points to me. “He’s my husband. Who I met through work. Sort of.”

I reach out a hand and as I’m shaking his, I think of crushing it hard so that he knows what’s up.

Which is immature. See? Another “I” word. I should probably stop thinking about me, myself, and I and grow up. I don’t have any real claim on her.

And now her actions have gotten the attention of my father, who’s knocking back yet another drink and staring at the three of us.

“I saw the flier and wanted to come say hello. Congratulations.” Antonio shakes his head. “River getting hitched. Wow. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

I parse out hints of discomfort and pain in Antonio’s otherwise glowing expression.

Did she reject him in the past? I’m struck with how little I actually know about my wife.

“Now, now. I never said that.” She glances over at me and tangles her fingers in mine. There’s a fleeting sense of rightness in the world. “You know why I stopped dating in college. That didn’t mean anything for the future, though.”

“Obviously,” Antonio’s stare has a chill to it before he turns to look at her again. “And I know it was because of your parents.” He frowns and something passes between them. Memories, a connection. It’s sad I don’t have any memories with her like he does.

“Antonio was a good friend after the crash,” she says to me, a wistful smile on her lips. She squeezes my hand tighter.

“Well then, I owe you thanks. It helps knowing she had people to rely on during that time.”

Her brows lift, but I mean every word. I couldn’t be there when her parents died. I didn’t even know her, but the fact that she had people to talk to helps.

“It was rough. And she had to drop her classes. She graduated after finishing online.”

“The university was understanding of my situation,” she adds.

“Yeah, I always thought that, with you and Skye so close, you weren’t much interested in getting married, and then after the crash, forget about it,” Antonio says. “But I’m glad that’s changed.”

Again, another look passes between them. History.

Someone from the catering company comes up with a tray and Antonio takes a small plate of hors d’oeuvres. I do, too, and now we’re just two guys, eating at a wedding reception, throwing darts at each other with our eyes.

I have the inexplicable urge to grab him by the lapels and scream in his curly hair-ringed face,She is my wife!

Clearly, his small plate of appetizers isn’t enough to get him to go sit down and leave us alone, as he keeps on talking. Something about memories of eating sub sandwiches by the foot because they were cheap and driving up to a mountaintop in the country where it was extra dark so they could watch a meteor shower.

The thought of Antonio taking her on a mountaintop to do anything has my blood boiling.

I flag down another server, get another plate of appetizers, and try to tune them out, keeping aware of where my dad is at all times.

Finally, Antonio says something reasonable, telling us he’s going to go sit down. Hallelujah.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I spin to her, draw my arm around her waist and tug her close so I can whisper. “What was that all about?”

She tilts her head back, her gaze searching mine. “What?”

A frustrated groan escapes me. “You know exactly what. Him. Hanging on his every word. Laughing it up like you were still in college.”

“I wasn’t—“ Her brown, darkly lined eyes grow large. “Wait.” She leans in closer. “Are youjealousof Antonio?”

I laugh. “Absolutely not. I just worry about my father’s perceptions. This whole thing could go south very quickly.”

“That’s right. Because this is all fake. And you’re terrified your dad will know that.” She crosses her arms over her middle, sadness creeping over her features. “That’s what this whole male chauvinist vibe is all about.”

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