Page 39 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

I asked Chavez to prepare the limo for me, then went back to my room. I took a quick shower and got dressed, wondering what I would do with my newfound freedom. I thought about visiting Jennifer, or maybe getting together with Ramone and Jake.

I even thought about being totally selfish and making it a me-time sort of outing. Like maybe treating myself to a spa using Evan’s credit card.

As I dressed, I reflexively put on my wedding ring. The same one I’d forgotten so easily now slid onto my finger without my even having to think about it. I stared at it and realized that I didn’t have to wear it. Not for my solo outing.

I took it off, but then my finger just felt weird. I put it back on and my anxiety levels decreased. At least no paparazzi would spot me without it if I chose to wear the ring.

I picked out a purse and matched it to my peplum skirt and short-sleeved blouse before heading out the front door. As I walked down the shallow, elegant steps toward the circle drive and the waiting limo, I felt peculiar. I turned around and saw Evan staring at me through the foyer window. Our eyes met, and then he turned and walked away without changing expression.

The driver opened the door and smiled.

“Where to, Mrs. Jones?”

I touched the ring on my finger. It struck me that I didn’t want toleave. I actually wanted to stay.

I wanted to stay at my fake home with my fake husband.

Chapter 15

Amanda

Déjà vu all over again.

I sat in The Happy Trails Café in the early morning hours, sitting across from Jennifer. Her baby bump was just growing noticeable, if you knew to look for it. I sipped my caramel frap latte and savored the sweetness over my palate as I listened to Jennifer wrap up her story.

“So then, Ramone just walks up pretty as you please… no, not walking. He does this thing… you know that thing he does when he just kind of—”

“Saunters?”

“Yes, that’s it,” she said, snapping her fingers with a pop that seemed unnaturally loud in all but deserted café. “He just kind of saunters up and plops it down on the table.”

“The very thing?” I asked, my mouth agape.

“The very thing,” she said with a jubilant grin. “Then he just kind of looks around and does a sort of crotch chop and says ‘Boom, y’all looking for THIS?”

I laughed heartily, the sound also unnaturally loud. After what had happened the last time I was in that particular café, I kept expecting my fake husband to appear out of nowhere and start yelling at me.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.

“Oh,” she said, holding her stomach.

“Your morning sickness again?” I asked with concern.

“Yes, indeed, but don’t worry, I’m not going off to the bathroom or leaving this time.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because,” she said with a wicked grin “I’m worried your fake husband might pop out of the woodwork and start acting all possessive again.”

I laughed, but it trailed off into a sigh.

“Don’t remind me. That was not a banner moment in our fake marriage, I’ll tell you that much.”

Jennifer considered me for a long moment as she blew steam off of her tea. She put the cup to her lips and took a delicate sip, possibly out of respect for her stomach. Relief spread over her face.

“You know, Marshall told me a slice of ginger in my tea would help with nausea, but I was dubious about it until now.”

“It really helps?” I asked, also a bit dubious.

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