Page 72 of Their Greatest Strength

“Yeah, I do. Even went to college for a few months to try and get my degree for it,” I reveal.

His surprise is obvious, taking over every inch of his face. “What? Why only a few months?”

“That’s all the time I had. I dropped out to take care of Nathan.”

Suddenly, the air around me burns to breathe in. An ache so jarringly sharp cuts right between my ribs, and I push my chair away from the table before standing.

Jamie watches me prepare to run away, a sad glimmer in his eyes that hurts worse than the pain in my chest. I don’t want his pity. Not now, not ever.

“I have to get ready to meet your parents. If you leave the dishes, I’ll get to them before we leave,” I ramble.

He stares at me in silence for a moment before nodding once. I get a few steps from the table when his voice cuts through the dining room, carving words that I’ve needed to hear for years into my heart.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Blakely. Not everyone has the ability to put others in front of themselves. Especially when what you have to give up is a part of who you are.”

Tears blur my vision the entire way up to my room.

I pickat the hole in the knee of my jeans and cringe, knowing that in only a couple of minutes, I’ll be introducing myself to Jamie’s parents looking like I couldn’t be bothered to dress up.

In reality, this is an occasion that I would have put a shit ton of effort into. I’ve outgrown my dressier clothes and figured that yoga pants were even worse than ripped jeans. At least I remembered to grab my work blouses from our old apartment before they were lost forever.

We’ve yet to go back there, but I’m positive the locks have been changed and the things we didn’t bring with us have been taken to the dumpster. It’s terrifying to remember that once my time is done with Jamie, I need to find us somewhere else to live. We don’t have anywhere waiting for us.

“Are you sure that your parents like blueberries, Jamie?” Nate asks from the back seat of the SUV.

I still can’t get over the sharp scent of real leather mixed with Jamie’s cologne. The heated seats curve around my body, and the screen on the console is massive. Like a small TV, just without the unlimited movies and shows. His music is playing on it now, and while I may be naïve to theinteriors of expensive vehicles, I do know music. And the song he’s playing is “Golden Girl” by Noah Hutton, one I’ve had on my phone for a while.

Jamie uses the buttons on the steering wheel to lower the volume and glances at my brother through the rear-view mirror.

“My entire family loves anything berry flavoured, buddy. Why are you stressing?”

“Well, because we made blueberry tarts. I wanted to double-check.”

He softly jostles the platter of berry-filled desserts on his lap. We rushed to make them after he woke up this morning, but I think they turned out okay. I’d have preferred raspberry, but the only fruit in the fridge were blueberries, so we made do. There was no way I was risking showing up not only looking like a slob but without a dessert to offer.

It could just be my nerves making me feel like this, but I’ve worried myself to death thinking that they’ll take one look at me and disapprove. Our marriage isn’t real, but having to spend the next few months knowing that Jamie’s parents hate me would kill me slowly.

I don’t need their approval; I just stupidly want it.

“They’ll love them. My mom’s been on a baking kick recently, and she’ll probably end up asking for the recipe,” Jamie says with a flick of his eyes across the console.

I turn my head and thank him with a stiff nod.

“Is that your house?” Nate gasps.

Jamie chuckles low in his throat. “My parents’ house, yeah.”

“It’s . . . woah.”

I think I’m going to be sick.

“Did your parents win the lottery or something?” I whisper, watching as the tall house at the top of the hill expands in size the closer we get.

“Not exactly.”

“So, what, they’re CEOs of some multibillion-dollar company, then? Because that house is not normal. I thoughtyours was too much, but this? I’m not dressed for this place,” I blurt out, cupping my knee in a tight hold.

The driveway at the top of the hill flattens out, leading to three garage doors. Six peaks extend from the roof, and the front entrance has a rounded cover, protecting it from the elements. If we weren’t heading into the middle of fall, I’m sure the massive lawn would be bright green, and the hedges would be springing with flowers.

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