Page 17 of The Imp Act

So, yeah, leaving him is gonna suck, but it’s the right thing to do. He only wanted to be

married for a year, just to teach his mom a lesson, so when the time is up, I’ll set him free.

My stomach lurches and I sigh. I hate being sick. A colleague once told me she’d rather

have surgery than throw up, and at the moment, I agree. Nausea is the worst. I grab my laptop and head into the kitchen, where I set it up on the island. I rummage through the fridge until I find a lemon-lime soda. The carbonation will either help settle my stomach or send me running for the toilet.

As I sip, I pull up available apartment listings on the computer. My business may be a success, but all my money is going right back into it. I can’t afford anything fancy or extravagant. In fact, maybe I should consider a roommate.

Enzo strolls in as I’m looking and frowns when he sees the screen. “What are you doing?”

“Browsing available apartments and trying not to barf.”

He makes a sympathetic noise and rubs my shoulders. “Later on, I’ll make you broth and crackers if you want. I’m not the best cook, but I’ll make anything you want, as long as you let me take care of you. But first, I have to know…why in the world are you looking at apartments?”

Out of habit, I look around for Mrs. Grimsby before answering. “Because our arrangement ends next month. I’m gonna need some place to live.”

He frowns again, more deeply this time, and perches on the stool next to mine. “It’s not like you have to move out on exactly the one-year mark, you know. In fact, you don’t have to move out at all.”

I whip my head around and stare at him. “Hold up. What do you mean? I thought we agreed on June.”

He folds his arms across his chest, looking offended. “Jeez, am I that unbearable to live with? I thought things were going well. I had no idea you were in such a hurry to leave.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Why is he picking a fight now? “Enzo, no. I’m not in a hurry. But this is your home and when our arrangement is over, it’s only fair that I give it back to you. Even if I don’t move out on the one-year mark, I still will have to find a place eventually.”

He glowers at me. “It’sourhome, notmyhome. ”

“What is going on with you? Why are you so grumpy? It’s not like I already leased a place. I was just looking. Besides, we both knew this was coming. It’s not exactly a surprise.”

His expression shifts. What had been irritation now just looks…sad. “Don’t you get it?” he asks.

I shake my head. Obviously not.

“Noelle, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to divorce you. I’m so in love with you. Please don’t leave me over some dumb agreement.”

I stare at him, completely at a loss as to how to respond. He loves me? Since when? “You love me?” I finally say, because I’ve been reduced to idiocy.

“Duh. How did you not know that?”

I frown at him. “Um, maybe because you’ve never, ever said it before now?”

“I may not have said the words, but I showed it in a million different ways! I didn’t want to say them and scare you off, but I thought you could tell!”

I run a hand through my hair, upsetting my already messy bun. This is a conversation I wouldn’t be prepared for on my best day, and at the moment, I feel like hot trash. “But…we can’t stay married. That wasn’t the plan.”

I know it’s a weak protest, but it’s the best I have at the moment. I never truly considered staying with him beyond the year mark. Even though I secretly wanted to, I resigned myself long ago to this being a short-term situation. It didn’t really occur to me that we could change it.

“Fuck the plan,” he says, slamming his hand on the counter. “Just tell me one thing. Are you in love with me?” He’s looking at me imploringly, vulnerability shining in his eyes.

This beautiful, wonderful man loves me. Wants to keep me.

I don’t even have to think about how to answer his question. I think I’ve been in love with him all along, even before I recognized what the feeling was. “Yes. Of course I am. How could I not be? You’re too goddamn perfect.”

He smiles, smug as can be. “Then that settles it. I love you. You love me. We stay married. We live here. End of discussion.”

“It very much is not!” I roll my eyes. Ugh, men. Always trying to steamroll women and avoid the tough conversations. “If we’re going to suddenly changeeverythingwe agreed on, we need to talk about it.”

“Do we, though? What is there to say? I want to stay married to you. Assuming you want the same thing, nothing in our lives has to change. We can just carry on in wedded bliss.”

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