Page 82 of Just My Fake Husband

“Agreed. And I do want that, River.”

“Well . . . good. Me, too. And what will you do if your father’s upset about it?”

“I—don’t exactly know.” I rub the back of my neck. “Since Prague, I’ve started to realize what a weight this has been, to try to make him proud enough of me that it spills over onto my brothers, too. I’ve always thought if I could keep up the relationship with him, I could influence him to open up to my brothers. Because I noticed something when I was younger, that when it was easy between us, his worries were contained. He was less stressed about the business and the family. If I could keep him happy—”

A slosh of bath water and a squeak as she moves a leg across the surface of the tub. “That’s an unfair burden on a kid, though.”

“I know. I realize that now,” I say. “But old habits die hard.”

“Tell me about it. I think, though, that we can help each other through our bad habits.”

Thoughts hammer in my head. There’s so much to say. I open my mouth to reiterate what I said last night, that I want this marriage to be real. But then, she changes the subject.

“I got attacked by wasps once when I was little. Probably eight or nine. Skye and I had been riding our bikes. The hornets didn’t so much as touch her, but I got six or seven good stings. My mom helped me bathe in baking soda.”

I slide my back down the wall of the short hall outside the bathroom and ease myself to a sitting position on the floor. “What were your parents like?”

There’s a long pause, and it sounds like she’s cutting her hands through the water’s surface, swishing it to make swirling eddies.

Finally, “Schoolteachers. Eighth and ninth grade. They used to joke that my mom broke ‘em down in eighth so my dad could build them back up again in ninth.”

I laugh. “Your mom was the strict one?”

“With her students, yes. But they were both greatly loved at the school. My mom taught math, but she immersed the kids in it. They barely knew they were learning because she’d spend a whole unit on these complex simulations—rocket ship crewmates or running a pretend mall full of shops—it was intense. Their assignments involved things the students would encounter in those immersive simulations.” She stops, like she’s lost in memories. “After they passed away, the school created an entire curriculum around her system.”

“Wow. What did your dad teach?”

“Psychology and social studies. So when I say he built them up, he really knew how. He did a lot of community outreach stuff, promoting things like emotional intelligence and healthy family systems.”

“River, I’m sorry they’re gone.” I’ve ripped away a small piece of her agony and it’s slamming into me now.

The clean, fresh scent of soap wafts out of the cracked open door.

Her light splashing of water stills. “I am, too,” she whispers. “I think they would have loved you, Gabriel. I think they would have appreciated how much you make me smile.”

“I do love to try to make you smile. It has the best, built-in reward.”

“What?”

“The reward? Your smile, of course.”

“My smilehasbeen hard fought.” She hesitates. “I grasped this identity of someone soldiering on after my parents’ crash. For Skye. But no one knew how much effort that took. What a mask I had to strap on every single day.”

“That’s painful.” I pause. “You don’t need the mask with me. I know what I said about loving your smile, River. But I want to know everything about you. The ups and the downs. I want to help you hold all of it.”

She doesn’t say anything and the water’s quiet. “River? You okay?”

That’s when I hear a sniff.

“Yes.” Her soft voice is a shadowy echo against the water and the tile.

“Good. Let it out.”

She does. Her quiet shaking and gentle gasps of air are breaking my heart. I want nothing more than to walk in there, climb in the water with her, and hold her.

Maybe someday I can.

I hope so. She’s been abandoned by her parents—through no fault of their own. But I have to be strong for her. Steady and present. Patient with her pain.

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