Page 83 of Just (Fake) Married
“So I have to ask, the wanted poster, does anyone know who’s behind those things?”
I shook my head. “They’ve been appearing randomly for the last year or so. Some think it has to be the Darryls because they could change out the posters undetected, and Darryl J. is a huge gossip. Others in town think it’s Mayor Gallup trying to stir up, I don’t know…town drama. But I just don’t think he’s got the photoshop skills for that kind of thing.”
“People still coming in asking about us?”
I nodded. “Ida wants to know if we’re heating up the sheets and Irma wants to know if your butt is as hot naked.”
He laugh-coughed into his grilled cheese and stood up.
“What are you doing?” I asked, when he reached for his belt.
“Showing you my butt so you can let her know the truth the next time she asks.”
I reached for his hand. “Stop. Someone could walk in here any minute.”
My hand lingered on his belt, which I knew covered his impossibly tight abs. We looked at each other and I could hear every intake of his breath. Long and slow, like he was trying to control his heart rate. Because my touching him had sped it up?
“Harmony,” he breathed, like he wanted me to touch him. Like he was dying for me to touch him.
I snapped my hand back and he took a seat and we both went back to eating grilled cheese like nothing had happened.
“I also had to come up with a lot more details about us,” I said. “This lying business isn’t for chumps. I had to start making notes so I wouldn’t forget everything.”
“Fill me in, wife. I can’t wait to hear about our romantic past.”
“Grab my purse behind the cash register.”
Using two hands, he brought my satchel bag that hadn’t been able to snap or zip closed in months, and set it on the counter away from our food. A bunch of stuff spilled out.
Snacks for the animals.
My keys.
A hat.
Sunscreen.
A book.
About twenty lists.
About sixty receipts.
“Are you preparing for Armageddon?” he asked, trying to shove stuff back into my purse. “Is there also a bomb shelter in this thing?”
“Gimme,” I said, grabbing the papers and going through them. I held one up in triumph. “Okay. Our forbidden romance in high school started one day you gave me a ride to school.”
“I never gave you a ride to school,” he said. “Dad forbad it. Said you girls were fine taking the bus.”
“Yes, but then one day, you defied him.”
Ethan sighed. “I should have. I always hated it when I drove by you guys when it was cold out.”
I patted his hand. “For our first date you brought me yellow tulips. My favorite.”
“For real favorite, or for the story?”
“Both,” I said. “We also had pet names for each other,” I said.
