Page 33 of Miss Understood

I dig my thumb into the arch of her foot. Her head falls back with a moan, and I have to slide her heel down my thigh to keep her from noticing what the sound does to me.

“Why are you here, Jesse?” Luce’s eyes are closed, and her head is relaxed against the arm of the couch. “You don’t need to feel obligated to take care of me. I know what this is between us.”

“Which is?”

“Temporary.” She looks up, and it lands like a dart in my chest.

“Even so.” I knead her foot harder, and her eyes flutter slightly. “For the time being, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. So stop complaining and let me do my job.”

Luce grumbles. Even sick, her walls stand tall between us. Shutting me out. Closing off any possibility. Her body might relax into my touch, but her willpower is strong.

Dropping her head back against the arm of the couch, she once again closes her eyes.

“What are we doing?” she whispers, more to herself than to me. But it’s out there. The question on both our minds since we woke up in that hotel room.

And even though she probably wasn’t asking me on purpose, I say, “I don’t know.”

It’s the only honest answer I’ve got left.

12

Luce

Fortwoyears,I’vemanaged to keep Jesse in a carefully wrapped box. One labeled “boss,” “work nemesis,” “the source of my irritation.”

But all that changed with one big mistake of a wedding, not to mention Mateo’s little surprise party that outed us to the office. And now Jesse is here in my space, rubbing my feet. My head is fuzzy from this cold, and I can’t think straight. The barriers I’ve fought so hard to uphold are slipping.

“We need to talk about us.” I tug at the hem of my shirt and wrap a frayed string around my finger. If I’d known he was coming over instead of Mateo, I might have tried to put myself together. The last thing I need is him seeing me in a T-shirt I’ve worn out over the past ten years and nothing but underwear underneath it. Not that Jesse seems to mind, from the way his eyes keep dipping to my bare legs.

But I feel vulnerable. He’s seeing too much, and not of my body, but what’s deeper. If I’m not careful, he’ll catch a glimpse of what’s hiding under my perfectly cold exterior. He’ll realize the woman he knows is only there for show, to keep people in line. She’s a shield.

Sitting on this couch, I can’t help but worry I’m naked, in the worst, most soul-baring way.

“You’re sick, we can talk later,” Jesse says with a squeeze of my arch that makes my eyes roll back for a second.

“No, I need this,” I tell him, pulling my feet away.

And it’s the truth.

Since waking up in Vegas, we’ve been inside a tornado with no end in sight. He mentioned an annulment, and I was on board until word got out. Now everyone knows about us, and I feel them watching, waiting, analyzing.

The only thing holding everyone’s tongues somewhat at bay right now is that people think it’s real.

A whirlwind love story.

A workplace romance turned happily ever after.

As if those actually exist.

But we’re hanging on the brink. One wrong step, and people might realize it’s all fake, destroying everything I’ve worked for in the process. I didn’t sacrifice relationships, my personal life, time with family, just to have a man come into the picture and take it all away. I’m smarter than that.

“We talked about this already, and we agreed to stick it out for the time being,” he says with a half shrug.

Like,No big deal our lives are flipped on their fucking heads.

“We did, but that was also about five seconds after Mateo outed us. And now we’ve both had some time to think.”

“And you’ve changed your mind?” he asks. An unfamiliar pinched expression crosses his face.

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