Page 15 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

“Obviously. I want to see what they think about all this,” I say.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Sterling replies, shaking his head.

“If you want to date me for real, you’ll have to meet them first. And there’s nothing saying I want to date you for real. Or be your real wife. It seems like there would be a lot of complications to iron out. Aren’t you busy? You have a life somewhere else. Probably a huge company you’re some hotshot CEO of. And a vast fortune to defend from your cousins. You were wary about men and trails and stuff leading back to me and back to you, so maybe you shouldn’t even be here. You can’t just say fuck what everyone thinks and call it a day. Why do you now, all of a sudden, want to do this anyway? Why after four years?”

I don’t taste anything in my mouth after all that long-windedness, so maybe it’s safe to lower my sweater a fraction. I do, but then quickly tug it back up. Nope. My sweater was filtering out more than I thought.

“Meet your family?” he gag-gasps. “That’s…insane.”

“And this whole thing isn’t?” Something stirs low in my belly. Something that feels a lot like want. And not just physical want. It’s not just my hormones or nipples acting out again. Although, thank goodness for this sweater because my nipples are totally free right now under this tank I have on underneath, and they’ve definitely perked up a good inch since descending the stairs and finding that Sterling was still in my house and in my kitchen and that he’d made coffee.

Never underestimate the allure of a man who makes strong java first thing in the morning. I haven’t had anyone do something like that for me since I lived at home, and it’s been years.

That’s what has the want stirring. That flickering, shining, lonely arsehole that lives inside me raises her head and gives metwo hard fist bumps to the center of my chest. What Sterling is proposing might be crazy, but so was seeing someone’s video of them singing a song online and then contacting them to ask if they want to be a fake wife…so was entering into this marriage in the first place. He did that, though, and now we’re both used to the idea. We’ve been living like this for four years.

I’ve been lonely for four years.

Has he?

Has it been longer than that?

I shouldn’t care. I should be able to stay mad. But the beast inside me has been beasting for some time…andthisman. I know there’s something about him that I won’t be able to expunge from my life ever again. Even if he were still Sterling from the night before, I wouldn’t have been able to forget last night. And now I couldn’t even if I wanted to because this morning just happened.

“I’m not…I’m not in danger from your cousins, am I?” The thought suddenly connects with me, slamming into my brain. “You said something about them tracking your trail.”

“I was just…” He waves his hand in front of his face and slowly lowers the towel. Then, he tests the air before putting the towel down on the counter. I drop my sweater too. I guess the danger has passed for now. “I was…I don’t know. I don’t want to scare you. They would never hurt you in any way. They just like to make trouble for me.”

“Care to expand on that?”

“Not at the moment. But maybe I should stay here with you, just in case one of them shows up. They essentially want to prove the marriage is fake. If I were here, then it would be much harder for them to prove that than if I were staying in a hotel.”

“Oh no. No way. My parents will…they will…” I don’t know what they will do. Once they meet Sterling and assure themselves he is an okay dude as far as most people go—and Ireally don’t know if that’s the case, but the naïve and hopeful version of myself thought so last night when I let him sleep on my couch, and I have no lock on my bedroom door, and even if I did, it would have done very little to protect me if I needed it—once they satisfy themselves that this man is alright, and they will because he oozes charm out the wazoo, they’ll be fully on board with him staying with me.

They’ll be shocked at the whole paper marriage becoming a real thing and also shocked beyond belief because they didn’t even know my paper marriage to Sterling existed. But when they know everything? They’ll be on board with me giving this a legit shot, won’t they?

“We meet my family first and tell them everything. They won’t say anything, I promise. If you want to keep going on with this, then those are my terms. They are my only terms. Otherwise, there’s no deal.”

“Hmm.” He runs a hand over his chin and contemplates that for all of a few seconds, then gives me the most charming, quick-thinking grin I’ve ever seen. Despite everything, my ovaries light up. He’s still absurdly hot, even if he did trick me. Even if he’s my nameless, faceless husband who isn’t so nameless or faceless anymore.

“Is Sterling even your real name?” I shouldn’t even be considering this. This seems like a whole lot more trouble than any paper marriage would have been, loneliness be damned.

Except it is damned. I feel damned along with it, and I’m so tired of feeling that way. Like I have no one at all in the world, and I’m just stuck, stuck, stuck while life keeps going on without me.

He frowns. It looks extra good on him, right along with the fine shadow of stubble on his square jawline. “I could have given you a fake one. I should have. But I didn’t. So, yes, it’s my real name.” Those frown lines get frownier, and his hotness getshotter. “Alright. We’ll go and meet your family. But I have one stipulation of my own.”

I prepare for the worst and most absurd suggestion. “What’s that?”

“We stop for dog probiotics along the way to your parents’ house. Some really good, the best money can buy, proven to fix any kind of intestinal problems, miracle-working dog probiotics.”

Chapter eight

Sterling

Six sets of eyes are staring me down.

Wait, I mean six eyes. Jesus, not six sets and certainly not six sets of six. There are no aliens here. Just a very concerned mother, father, and little brother who also looks like he’s debating the merits of kicking my arse from here to Sunday. The little brother is the worst of them. He’s practically breathing murderous, ass-kicking—ifyou hurt my sister, you’re going down, you mother fucker—intent.

Does the dog count? I guess it would be four sets if he counts because he’s giving me a dirty look too. With his one eye.Jesus. And this after I stopped at three different vets on the way in order to find the miracle probiotic I was suggesting, paid for a cab,andalso used my rental, which I’m pretty sure is a pet-free car, but whatever. I can afford whatever the slap on my credit card is for the cleaning fee.

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