Page 42 of Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband

Sounds like what every good song is based on.

It also sounds like the exact opposite of what I want my life to be. I don’t want to live one of those regret songs. One of thoseI had the perfect woman, and I let her go, so I’ll spend the rest of my life aching for hersongs. I want to live every cheesy country song instead, minus the pickup truck and the tractor. Or with the pickup truck and the tractor, if that’s what Weland wants.

“Sterling.” She takes my hands, and her eyes fly to mine. “You can go, but for the love of all things cheese, and very few things in life are better than cheese,pleasecome back. I spent four years of my life trying to make sense of this, and now it does. I don’t want it to stop making sense. If you’re not in my life, it’sgoing to be incredibly senseless. I’m not saying this because I want perks of your cash or because I want you to make my songs famous. I’m saying it because I want you. I want you to kiss me up against the wall while the dog eats our meatballs. I want you to take trips to the vet with me to find the perfect probiotic because the dog’s farts are hot death without it. I want you to take all those death glares from my dad and brother and turn them into something to laugh about one day. I don’t want you to ever sleep on my couch again, and not because we’re putting on a show for your evil cousins. Maybe one day they’ll change. Maybe they’ll come around and not be so evil, although I seriously doubt it, but we can keep the door open and keep hoping.

“Honestly, I want more orgasms because the ones you give are really good. They’re the best kind of good. I want more of you. I want more of your kisses. I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you. Even if it’s not possible every single day, that’s okay. You’re my husband, and even if we get a divorce, and you’re no longer my husband, that’s okay too. I don’t need you to be married to me in order for me to want to spend time with you. I want to keep seeing if this will work because I’ve never in my life met anyone that I felt like it could work with until I met you. I’ve written songs all my life, but you make me want to write songs about you. And that’s a thing because I’ve never, ever written songs about a real guy. Just pretend guys. And I knew nothing about love. I want to do it for real. I want to sing them to you. I want to sing themforyou.” Her eyes flood with tears again, and then those big, crystal droplets spill over. “I guess if you don’t see it working, then fair enough. But if you do, then give it a shot. Give every cheesy song lyric a chance to become true for us and then some.”

This time, when her hand lands on my arm, it causes a volley of goosebumps to form. The hairs there prickle to attention and stand up when I shiver. She’s the first person who has ever reallylooked at me and seen more than the money, more than my job, and more than what I can offer materially. She’s the only person who has looked at me like I’m more than a job, more than a burden, more than a chore, and more than something to compete with.

If I left, I didn’t think I could come back, but she’s amazed me again. She’s given me an option that I didn’t think would be there.

“I have to get back to Nashville. There’s only so much I can do from here. Smitty has sent me everything to sign electronically, but I want to make sure I have all of it taken care of without an inch of leeway before my cousins catch on. Also, I know if I leave and make it public, they’ll follow me back. Of course, Smitty will be here with you, and I’ll have security watching your place. They won’t get to you, I promise.”

“If you leave, the only thing I care about is that you come back. Eventually. When you can.”

“You’ll wait?” I ask.

Her eyes sparkle, and she squeezes my arm. “Of course I’ll wait. But Sterling?”

“Hmm?” I’m not thinking about the company. I know I should be, but it’s hard to focus when I want to think about Weland and all the things I could do to her instead. How she’d smell aroused, how her eyes would darken, and her pupils would get huge, and how I’d be able to make her moan and then lose all the breath it takes to even do that because I’d kiss her until she was breathless. Senseless. Until there was just me for her.

“You owe me a song,” she says.

“A song?” Of all the things in the world, that’s what she’s going to ask for? But it makes sense, given how she’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.

“Yes. One that we’re going to write ourselves, day in and day out. We’re not going to stop until we’re corny, classic, and cheesy. Isn’t that right?”

“It is.” God, I want to get back here. I don’t even want to leave in the first place. Leaving is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and this is coming from a man who found a fake wife, spent the past four years keeping her a secret from the world, and just started a company overnight. Or rather, moved the old one over overnight. “That’s definitely right.”

Chapter twenty-one

Weland

Idid talk about technically, and technically, Sterling has been gone for three weeks. Actually, it’s been twenty-three days, but who’s counting?

Me. Obviously.

I’ve been counting.

Counting down the days, the hours, and the minutes.

My family has been amazing. They’ve kept me from going out of my mind. They’ve been there for me like they always have. They haven’t once tried to talk me out of this. They’ve just been there with their jokes and their humor. We’ve played all the board games we love as well as cards. We’ve watched movies, cooked together, and talked.

I’ve also been busy with my students. Thank goodness for my work.

Beans has kept me entertained. He’s been a great bud. He’s taken to sleeping beside me on my bed, and I don’t mind his snoring and night-kicking one bit, even if it is disturbing. Dogcuddles are so good that they more than make up for it. I don’t know how Smitty knew what I needed, but he did. He kind of works miracles like that. Not just for me but for Sterling too.

He hasn’t called. And he’s not a texter.

But he has sent me a few emails, keeping me updated about what’s going on with the company.

When his cousins found out about the company, they threw a hissy fit to end all hissy fits to the power of hissy fits, and now they’re pouting. Sterling isn’t really sure what their next move is going to be, but as for his new company, it’s safe. All of it. There isn’t anything they can do.

I haven’t received an email from him in two days. I’ve been checking my phone neurotically, refreshing my email whenever I pick it up just to make sure it’s updated.

It’s a very Sterling thing to just show up on my doorstep, which he does right after dinner. One minute, I’m getting ready to take Beans out, and the next, he’s there, ringing my doorbell and thrusting a guitar case into my hands when I open the door.

“For you. I’ll tell you all about it tonight, I promise. It’s one of those rare, historical, expensive, played by a certain rockstar guitars, and I know you’ll never want to play it because you’ll be scared that if you do, it will lose some of its magic. But I can’t think of a single other person I would want to play it and infuse it with even more magic, which you would, of course, because you have the purest form of magical everything I’ve ever known.”

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