Page 19 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

“How’s Beans doing? Any change in his digestion yet?” he asks.

Ugh, damn it.He has to hit me right where it hurts. Right in the soft, feeling spots with all his masculine, nice guy, food-smothered, god-like body charm.

How is it possible to look that good at nine in the morning? I’m over here in an oversized sweater and leggings because it’s human and comfortable, and he’s all freaking red-carpet worthy. I mean, no one wears jeans to the red carpet, but I think they’ll all make an exception in his case, and jeans will suddenly become the new tuxedo the way forty is supposed to be the new twenty. I’ve been twenty. It wasn’t all that great. I hope forty is better.

That just makes me think of what life could look like ten years from now, which makes me feel all hot and bothered, fantasticaland hopeful, and slightly depressed because I still don’t feel like any of this is real.

“Would it be okay if I came in? Or would you rather go out? We could have breakfast. Or take Beans for a walk and discuss the merits of probiotics that are hopefully working. We could talk about—”

“About what your real name is, where you live, what you do, your past, your life, your family, your history, and everything that led you to this point?” I can feel my right eye start to twitch.

I put myself out there yesterday with my family. I know if this doesn’t work out—andthisis still pretty undetermined—they won’t rub anything in for me, but I’ll rub it in for myself. They now know I lied to them. Yes, they think this man drove me to do it, but they’re going to be confused and hurting for a good while yet, and they’re not going to trust me the way they used to. They’re not going to see me the way they used to, and okay, maybe that’s not entirely me being fair to myself because I know they’ll think about the sacrifice I made, but still. Maybe I’m being hard on myself. They won’t be hard on me. They love me. If this doesn’t work, they’ll be there for me. Now they know the truth, and it’s such a relief.

“Weland?”

I’m brought back to reality by the sound of my name said with perfect cadence, like a song.

“We can uh…take Beans for a walk.” I don’t know if I’m ready to share such a tiny space with this much hotness again. It’s kind of like crawling up into Satan’s arsehole itself, at least as far as the fiery, burning-from-the-inside-out factor goes.

“Alright. Do you want this?” He holds out the flowers and the chocolate.

Darn it, I do. I love flowers. And who doesn’t love chocolate? Somehow, he knew they were my favorite kind, and no, I don’trecall ever mentioning it to Smitty. It’s like the snails thing. Sterlingnoticesthings the way other people just don’t.

I grab the chocolate and flowers from his hands. Then, I give him the universal wavering eyebrow sign that meansstay right there, pleaseand leave the door open because shutting it in his face just feels rude.

My face is probably hotter than the inside of any arsehole as I get a big juice pitcher down for the flowers, fill it up, and then stick the flowers into it. I stash the chocolate in the pantry, slip Beans’ leash on, and get into my dog-walking runners, which have just been designated as such in the past few days of having a dog. They’re comfy, and they’re always going to be my go-to for walks, so I think it fits.

Sterling falls into step beside me as soon as I step out and lock the door. When he starts whistling a perfectly in-tune happy tune, it’s more than I can take.

“Beans is good,” I finally answer. “Really good. His farts smell like uh…more like Beans and less like rotting Armageddon to the exponent of death, multiplied by sixty-four.”

His smile is so genuine that it melts the icy bits inside me that are still lingering over the past four years and the fresh ice that frosted over from worrying that maybe he was just going to up and abandon me. Although it wouldn’t make any sense for him to do that given that if he wanted to, he could have just done it already and not gone to all that trouble with my family.

“I’m glad.”

Beans marks a signpost and then turns to me, his tongue lolling out, his stumpy tail wagging. Helookslike he’s feeling better this morning too.

“And I’m glad that if you’re truly serious about us trying to make this work, you’re going to open up and start making the past four years make some kind of sense. You seem to know everything about me. Now I want to know about you. It mightbe rude and painful, and I’m sorry about that, but it’s also necessary. I need a crash course in all things Sterling so my husband isn’t a total stranger. Even if we take the time to date and get to know each other like regular people, which probably isn’t in the cards for us because that’s normal, and nothing about us or this or anything has been the way anyone else on this earth would do it, then I still know nothing, and I’m at a huge disadvantage.”

I half expect some brush-off or non-committal answer, but Sterling surprises me. He lets out a sigh that makes him sound like he’s been constipated for eight thousand years—might I recommend dog probiotics, but the people variety—and nods.

“Alright,” he says tightly. “Let’s walk, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter ten

Sterling

I’ve spent a lifetime not talking about this. No, I’m not avoiding it. I’ll never forget where I came from, but I’ve never intentionally gone there either. I don’t want to talk about it now, but Weland deserves the truth, not just because she stood up for me with her family, but because I’ve chosen this. I’ve chosen to be here with her. Maybe I spent a lifetime consciously not choosing that either—a family, a wife, and a life like everyone else has—but perhaps there was a part of me that always wanted that.

Obviously, there is. I wouldn’t be here right now if there weren’t. Everyone always told me, and not exactly in a nice way either, that there would come a day when work wouldn’t be enough. The company wouldn’t be enough. Being married to my job wouldn’t be satisfying.

I didn’t know it was here until it blindsided me. As it is, I still don’t feel like that’s true. I don’t feel like it’s not enough. But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m finding that I want something in additionto it. I don’t feel like I have to carve a part of myself out to have the other. Maybe I’m just scrambled up, jet-lagged, and having emotional whiplash. That would explain a lot of the stuff I can’t properly explain to myself.

“Everything sounds a lot like crickets,” Weland says, her tone light and breezy. She’s holding Beans’ leash while he marks yet another pole. A dog’s pee reserve is astounding. Their bladder must be the size of a water tanker, but somehow, it magically fits inside them.

“Sorry. I’m just trying to think how to start.”

“I know. It’s all good. I was trying to make a joke because I thought that might make it easier, but it’s probably not. Take your time. We can walk all morning if you like.”

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