Page 34 of Wake Me Up
“They don’t have to know, Freya. We can just keep it between us—”
“And what? Make the insurance fraud bounty hunters know for sure that it’s fake?” I blurt out. “I’ve watched enough rom-coms to know we have to have a freaking plan in place.”
“Rom-coms, huh?” His lip twitches in amusement—as if any of this is funny.
“The beauty in you having three kids who lost their father—and trust me, I know there isn’t anything good about it, but one thing is … no one will question why you didn’t want to dump on them that you’re married.” He speaks so calmly, like we aren’t talking about debatably the most insane thing in the world. “If anyone questions us, we will just say that we’re married, but we chose to live separately and not tell the kids until further down the road. We’ll say we didn’t want to make their lives any more confusing yet.”
Everything he’s saying oddly makes sense. I don’t know if it would be enough to throw the insurance people off our case, but I suppose it could work.
On instinct, I look down at my hand. The ring my husband gave me doesn’t glimmer like it used to because it’s been on my finger every single minute of every day for so long. It might not shine as bright as the day he gave it to me, but it’s still beautiful.
It still means something.
“Freya …” Tripp almost croaks my name. “I’m not trying to take Jamie’s place. You’re still his wife. You always will be.” He talks evenly, but there’s a sadness in his tone. “This is basically … a business arrangement. Something to help you and your daughter out.” He tips his head forward to bring our eyes together. “But I will say, I’ll be honored to be your husband. And even though it’s just pretend, I swear to do right by you and your kids. Even if they don’t know it.”
His words almost take my breath away, and I inhale sharply.
He’s saying all the right things, but in the back of my mind, I keep thinking about one thing.Will Jamie forgive me?I hope he knows that I’d give anything to bring him back.
“We don’t have rings …” I whisper, knowing that I’ll have to take mine off during the ceremony. There’s no way I’d wear Jamie’s while I say vows to Tripp. Even thinking about putting another ring on makes me feel ill.
“Then let’s go get them now so that we have them tomorrow. Or if it would make it easier for you, I can go get them. But I do have to tell you, I’ve never bought a piece of jewelry in my life, so don’t judge what we end up with.”
His eyes hold a certain softness, and even though he doesn’t deliberately say comforting words, I feel a sense of peace wash over me just from his gaze and the gentleness of his tone.
“But if you want to go with me—and I really would love you to—the owner of the jewelry store in town is a big fan of the Sharks. He’ll let us come in before the shop opens. That way, it can stay our secret.”
It’s almost as if he’s reading my mind, and I appreciate the tenderness he’s showing me because right now, I’m a wreck. My stomach hurts, and my heart is aching.
I don’t want to be married to anyone else. I just want to be Mrs. Hale, wife of Jamie Hale. Soon, I’ll be Mrs. Talmage, but only Tripp and I would know it.
Well, us and the insurance company, I suppose.
I need to respond. I’m sitting here, looking like a moron. I asked him to meet me and took him up on his offer to get married, and now I’m stalling.
“Okay.” I swallow nervously. “Let’s go.”Before I change my mind.
The corner of his lip turns up the tiniest bit, but there’s an unmistakable hint of sadness in his expression too. He doesn’t speak or say anything else. Instead, he reaches his hand for the shifter, puts the truck in reverse, and backs out of his parking spot. And as we make our way closer to the jewelry store, it hits me that for the first time since I was twenty-one years old … I’m not going to be married to the father of my kids.
Instead, I’ll secretly be married to a practical stranger.
“Do you like it?” Robert, the jeweler, asks as I stare at my finger. “Simple … but beautiful.”
When we first got here, ol’ Robert definitely had dollar signs bulging from his eyes because he thought the big-shot NHL goalie was here to buy an insanely large rock for his soon-to-be wife. Little did he know, I didn’t want a ginormous rock.
I don’t want a ring at all. I just want to wear my own ring. From my real husband.
“Freya …” It’s Tripp talking now, whispering gently. “You all good?”
My eyes finally leave the band with the single stone in the center, and I jerk my head up and down to let him know I’m good, even if it’s a lie.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, looking down at the ring one last time. “This is great. Can we go?” I push myself up from the chair, feeling my heart starting to race, prompting me to press my palm to my chest because I think it may beat out of my body.
“Yeah, yeah,” he instantly says with absolutely zero bit of annoyance or judgment in his tone before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “Why don’t I take care of the rings and you can go wait in the truck?”
It’s probably rude of me, but I don’t even have the energy to answer, so instead, I give him a brief nod and take the keys from his hand before striding toward the door. I’m almost touching the handle when I hear Robert ask Tripp if I’m okay.
“Yeah, she hasn’t been feeling good today—that’s all,” he tosses back quickly, selling it like it’s the truth.
