Page 10 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

I might be four years late, but I’m going to help in any way I can. Even if it leaves just the slightest trail, it’s a risk I’m going to have to take. We only have one more year to get through. Just one more, and then Weland will be free. I’ll even give her a bonus. Buy her a house, a new car, whatever she wants. She won’t want it, but I’ll insist. She’ll never know it’s coming from me—the man she invited in and gave cookies to that probably tastes just like childhood and invokes the happiest of memories and sunny smiles because she’s sunshine and light, but that’s something I can live with.

There isn’t any other choice.

And I need to leave. As in, five minutes ago. As in, I never should have been here. I never should have gotten out of that cab. I never should have come here myself. It was impulsive. I can’t even explain what was going through my head besides sheer panic. And a little bit of humanity, I suppose. Hearing that the person who bailed your ass out is miserable doing it isn’t a good feeling. People think having money means being heartless, but I didn’t come from anything at all, and that’s why it’s so important for me to stay where I am and hold on to what I’ve built. Because I’ll always remember where I came from. And I do have a heart.

The smart version of me walks out the door. The smart version finds Weland and tells her that I have an emergency and to have a good night. The regular version of me that I am twenty-four fucking seven gets up and leaves right now.

But this version, this imposter I don’t know and don’t have a clue about, walks over to the kitchen, finds those cookies, pops the lid, and takes one out.

This imposter takes a bite and, yup, gets thrown straight back to his childhood because it tastes just like “mom” cookies.

They’re a trap—“mom” cookies. From what I remember anyway, and I barely remember, but the memory is a potent one. I can’t leave now. I’m in too deep. I’ve lost my chance.

I need another cookie.

All I’ve wanted my whole life was just one more “mom” cookie.

I need another Weland smile. Unlike the cookies, seeing another smile is possible.

I need to know that, beyond a doubt, she’s going to be okay.

And that’s the real reason I can’t just walk out the door.

Chapter five

Weland

While I walk Beans, I realize something.

I’ve never had someone. Sure, I dated in high school and on and off in college, but it was more of a light version of that. Did I ever think to myself that the boyfriend I had at the time was my someone? Someone I could depend on and rely on? No. Never.

I have a husband, but he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t care about me. He’s not my person, a safe person, the person I turn to when everything goes wrong. He’s never seen me cry. He’ll never see me cry, and he’ll never hear me laugh. He’s never had the good moments or the bad moments, the pretty or the ugly. He’s had nothing and none of it, and he never will, and darn it if that doesn’t make me feel even more alone than I’ve been feeling.

No, I’m not trying to rationalize anything. I know asking Sterling to come in was a mistake. As in, I shouldn’t have done it because of the contract. Because I made a commitment to a piece of paper and a person at the other end of it, and just because Idon’t know his real name or anything about him doesn’t mean I can just do whatever I want.

When I get to my doorstep, I decide I’m going to have to tell him to leave.

But when I walk in the front door and let Beans off his leash, he goes bounding right for the super hot stranger in my kitchen who bends down and scratches his head while stuffing a cookie into his mouth with his other hand and making a grunty, sexy sound low in his throat that gets all sorts of raw interest stirring inside me, and I can’t help it.

I change my mind. Truth is, I don’t want him to leave.

We can just talk. We can talk and be friendly, and I won’t be alone, just for a few hours. Tonight was supposed to be about that. About me having fun with friends, having fun with someone who I used to have so much in common with that I called her my bestie. Instead, it ended with me being forgotten and left behind and not even knowing what club they’d gone on to next. As far as signs go, that’s a big one. And maybe this stranger is another.

Signs might be up for debate, but here are the facts. I was alone. And now I’m not alone anymore.

“How was your walk?” he asks as he finishes the cookies and licks his fingers. The sight of his tongue coming out and licking melted chocolate off his digits shouldn’t do anything to me, but it makes me feel primitive and wild inmydigit. That’s right. Single digit. And no, it’s not my finger or my big toe.

“I—errrr…” Great, now I’m not capable of speaking. “Good,” I murmur.I decided to tell you that you have to leave. But now I can’t, so that’s not good. Yet it feels good to not say the words.

I make myself move toward the kitchen. I should retreat, but this place is small. It’s easy to do something because Beans has a container of food on the counter, one of those plastic ones I bought and filled with dog food. It’s easy to pour some foodinto his bowl. It’s a good distraction. Except when I stand up, Sterling’s deep brown eyes run smack dab into mine, and my heart goes racing at a thousand miles an hour.

Something that isn’t panic shoots through my brain, chest, and who-ha, in that order. My brain shuts off, my chest clamps down, and the rest of me… That’s the part I keep feeling. That burn. That burn of awareness. Of being in close proximity to a man who smells like forest, open skies, wild mountains, and all the beasts contained within. Well, maybe not the beasts, as per how beasts go, but he smells and looks rugged, and all that ruggedness is doing something to me even though I’ve never been a thrill seeker.

I’m probably standing here looking constipated. Idea constipated. Like I need to say something, but I can’t get it out.

I shove the food container back onto the counter. Beans walks over and starts hoovering up those crunchies. He’s a messy eater, and bits and pieces fall all over the floor.

One minute, Sterling is just standing there in my kitchen. And the next, he’s moving. He’s coming closer to me, and I should back up, but I don’t. The only thought going through my brain is straight up:He just ate my cookies, but I’d really like him to eatmycookie.He closes the distance between us way too fast. After a couple of mouthfuls, Beans loses interest in the food and saunters off toward the couch. Sterling is now way too close.

---