Page 68 of Just My Fake Husband

In any other scenario, that would be a good thing.

But in this one? It would be a disaster.

Chapter 25

River

“You want to bring Lunch Lady Liz here?” I blink dumbly.

Gabriel shrugs. “Sure. Lunchie’s the best.”

“But this place is so small . . .”

“So is the dog. It’s fine.” He grabs the car keys off the elaborate hanger in the mudroom.

“She has a lot of stuff, and I wasn’t kidding about her puking. She does that sometimes.” A flash of horror goes through me when I realize bringing her here might out me as a closet collector of about a hundred little dog sweaters and bows.

“I’m not too worried.”

“I just.” I close my eyes and press the heels of my hands against them. “It complicates things.”

Gabriel’s mouth twitches. “What else are we going to do? Skye needs someone she trusts to take the dog.”

I swallow down thoughts of unease—thoughts of us taking care of the dog together. Not only will part of me be sad when this marriage ends—I can admit it—but if Lunch Lady Liz lives here, she’ll also have a hard time when Gabriel goes.

And I cannot even begin to think about how I’m going to explain to Skye the end of my marriage.

We’re quiet on the drive over to Jana’s house, which isn’t good because when things get quiet, I’m thinking about that kiss.

We arrive at Jana’s, and I wish I could video the expression on Gabriel’s face when we pick up Lunch Lady Liz. He looks excited. She does too, the shameless girl. Showering him with kisses, making him giggle. There’s no other way to describe it.

Gabriel is giggling over my sister’s dog.

Once we get all her stuff put in the car, Gabriel asks if we can stop off at Caring Souls to visit Skye and to let her see the dog.

Uh, if you want to ensure my heart’s going to break in a million pieces by this time next year, sure. We can go over there.

As we’re getting out of the Bronco with Lunchie, Gabriel places a hand on my forearm. “Is Antonio going to be here?”

I give a prolonged blink. “I have no idea. But it’s past five, so I doubt it.”

His dimples give a sort of triumphant roll. “Good.”

I ignore it.

My husband and his dimples are their very own ecosystem.

“Are you taking your vitamins?” I ask Skye after she throws her hands around my neck. I return the hug, hard, and then step back to give her a once over. We’re in the courtyard outside of Caring Souls because, it turns out, they really are strict about no dogs inside.

Skye sticks out her tongue, her eyes crinkling shut.

“Skye, I’ll ask Jana to check in on you and make sure you take those. You could get sick. You’re being exposed to more germs now since you’re around so many people.”

“I’m not getting sick. I’m an adult,” Skye insists.

“Adults get sick all the time.” I pick up her hand and notice her chipped nail polish. “You painted your nails? What did you use? We ran out of the non-allergenic polish.” I hiss in recognition. “Who put regular nail polish on your nails?”

“Sheramy. My friend.” Skye pulls her hand away. “It’s almost all gone.”

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