Page 97 of Play the Game

“She said you weren’t caring or affectionate.” I swallow my pride before glancing at him. “But I think you are. Even if you choose to hide it behind that grumpy face of yours.”

“Ready?”Emory’s hand falls into mine, and we walk up the front steps of the porch. His calluses rub against my soft palm when I bend down to pet Shutter. To my surprise, he doesn’t make a rude comment about how my dumpster cat is a true menace to society.

“Should we introduce him as their first grandchild?” I ask, acting completely serious.

Emory scoffs, but I see the humor lingering when he pulls me upright.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispers.

I half-shrug. “You married me.”

Our eyes catch for a brief second before he reaches up and frees my hair from my clip. My blonde locks fall around my face, landing over my shoulders. “Hiding your mark?” There’s a bite to my tone. “I can’t believe you gave me a?—”

“Surprise!”

Emory turns and, thankfully, doesn’t hide his reaction ofnotbeing surprised.

I’m struck speechless when I realize that his mom is what fairy tales are made of. I’m immediately wrapped in a warm embrace, and she smells like sugar and flour. She pulls back after a few seconds, and her hands move to my shoulders. “You’re even prettier in person.”

A soft smile moves to my lips because she’s sogenuine. Even Shutter, who doesn’t like anyone but me, rubs his black, silky fur along her legs.

Emory grumbles. “I think that cat has it in for men.”

At that exact moment, Emory’s dad, who is nearly as tall as him, bends down and gives Shutter a pet on the back. Shutter purrs, and I smash my lips together.

He pops up and grins at his son. “Nope, he just doesn’t like you.”

I laugh out loud, and Emory turns at the sound coming from me. My hand immediately covers my mouth. He squints his eyes playfully.

“You’re lucky I love her,” he says to Shutter, “or else you’d have to find a new stoop to live on.”

I play it off well, reminding myself that this is all fake.

But the glow inside my chest feels awfully real, as if I could reach inside and touch its warmth.

“Ford told you, didn’t he?” Emory’s mom asks, placing her hands on her hips. She clicks her tongue and turns to head back inside. Her husband follows after her, grinning kindly at me. Emory catches my smile before I can wipe it off, and I see his mouth curve too.

I question whether he’s smiling for show, or smiling because he’s proud of how we just acted in front of his parents, or if he’s actually…happy.

It doesn't really matter, though, because either way, we have to play the game.

Forty-Two

EMORY

“This is new.”I grab the wet dish from Scottie’s soapy hands to dry it.

She tucks a light strand of hair behind her ear and peers up at me. Her nose wrinkles. “What is?”

The corner of my mouth lifts, and I lean in close so my parents can’t hear. “Seeing you in the kitchen.”

Scottie grimaces at me and begins washing the next dish with a little more aggression than before. “If you want a wife who makes you a home-cooked meal every night and cleans the kitchen afterward, I guess you should have put that in the contract.” Her voice is low, but I can hear her perfectly fine.

Without putting much thought into it, I take some of the bubbles from the sink and sweep them over her cheek. “I like my wife the way she is.”

Surprise flickers over her features like a lightbulb. She has no idea what to do with my incessant flirting. I’ve been doing it all evening with my parents as our audience.

Each time Scottie tries to sass me in private, I shut it down quickly with some act of teasing followed by a subtle touch against her skin or a wink. It takes her a moment to recover each time, and I love it.

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