Page 34 of Every Promise Broken

Saying bye to Paul, who’s back in the rocking chair on the porch, I climb into my truck and make the ten-minute drive back to the ranch. Glancing at the clock on the dash, it’s a little after eight. Maybe, just maybe, Conrad will already be asleep by the time I get there. As I drive down the long gravel road, I realize I’m not that lucky.

Porch light on, Conrad is sitting on the porch swing, boots on like maybe he just finished his evening chores. I park beside his truck, exhaling a deep, calming breath, before climbing out.

“Work late?” he asks, his deep, gruff voice sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.

I shake my head, bounding up the steps. Taking a seat on the opposite side of him on the swing, I murmur, “Had dinner at my dad’s. I texted you and let you know earlier.”

“Oh, sorry, I haven’t looked at my phone.”

Huffing out a chuckle, because that is the most Conrad statement ever, I say, “It’s okay.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay, for the most part. I wasn’t going to stay for dinner, but I felt bad. It’s been, like, two weeks since I saw him last.”

Conrad nods out of the corner of my eye. It’s so cold out I can see my breath as it puffs out in front of me, but something is stopping me from going inside just yet. Maybe the crisp fresh air is what I need after the last few days I’ve had. Besides, if I have to stay here for the time being and pretend to still be married to Conrad, I should probably suck it up and learn to deal with being in his company, otherwise his nana will see right through us.

He chuckles, startling me. Turning my head, I find him already looking at me, a large, tan hand scrubbing over the hair covering his jaw. “What’s so funny?” I ask.

“Do you remember that time you insisted on inviting your folks over for dinner after we got married?”

“Oh my gosh,” I groan. “How could I forget?”

His laugh takes me by surprise. It’s a deep belly laugh that I rarely ever hear come from him. “You insisted on making the pasta from scratch, even though you had never done that before.”

“The man on YouTube made it look so easy.”

“The chef?” he corrects. “Yeah, I’ll bet he did.”

“God, what a disaster that was.” Laughing, I run my fingers through my hair. “My mom looked horrified when we dished up, and they both tried their best to pretend it tasted good. It was nothing but wet mush.”

“It didn’t taste bad,” he says with a shrug.

Turning my head, I look at him, deadpan. “Conrad, it was barely edible. The only decent part of that meal was the steak, and that’s only because you made them.”

“I’m sure your parents appreciated the effort. You were young and had never cooked by yourself. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, but it was the thought that counts.”

“Yeah, well, it’s ten years later, and I’m still a crummy cook.” Chuckling, I murmur, “Some things never change.”

“Guess that’s why you have yourhusbandwho can cook for you, huh?”

My stomach dips at the sound of that title falling off his lips. I can feel my cheeks heat, and I can’t look at him. I’m afraid he’ll be able to read how much it affects me.

“Lucky me, I guess,” I tease, trying to keep my tone light.

The juxtaposition between me knowing I need to be careful and protect myself while also desperately wanting to lean into how comfortable I know it can feel with Conrad is jarring. Things are awkward because ofmeand my issues. Despite him being a horrible conversationalist with most people, we’ve always had an easy time in that department. He was always good at making me laugh or pulling me out of my own head. There’s something about Conrad that’s so calming to me. I never felt like I needed to be anybody but me around him.

Maybe while I’m stuck here, I can make the most of it. Maybe I allow myself to find comfort in chatting with him or being quiet in his presence. Maybe I don’t need to hold up the walls I’ve spent years building and keeping in place.

But could I really do that? Could I really allow myself to be fully at ease around him? And if I did, where would that leave me when his nana returns home and we both go back to our lives?

I agreed to be Conrad’s fake husband, so I think I owe it to both of us to quit overthinking and just go with the flow. Rules were laid out when we decided to do this, so there’s no reason I should be at such an impasse.

“Well,” Conrad starts, standing off the swing. “Guess I better head to bed.”

“I probably should too,” I add, getting up.

As we walk through the door, it hits me that this’ll be the first time we’ve gone to bed at the same time. Not that it really matters, but it feels like it does. My blood whooshes loudly in my ears, heart hammering as I follow behind him, making our way toourroom. The house is quiet, Nana clearly already in bed.

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