Page 20 of Dearly Unbeloved
“I think we made a mistake,” I say, and she raises aneyebrow, clearly asking for me to elaborate. “With this whole staying married thing. We don’t like each other, so it’s not us who are going to be hurt when this is over. But I don’t want to hurt anyone else, either.”
Rose draws her bottom lip between her teeth. “I do feel bad about Cal lying to Maggie. But short of telling everyone the truth—which I don’t think we should do, because my parents are the kind of people who would report you for inheritance fraud—I don’t see how we can take it back now.” She sighs, the muscle between her brows popping out. “This is so messy.” She sounds almost accusatory, and I feel my hackles going up.
“It was your idea for us to stay married,” I hiss.
“And you agreed. I don’t recall forcing you.” She glares daggers at me.
“Typical. God forbid you admit that maybe you had a shitty idea.”
“I was trying to helpyou?—”
“Don’t pretend, Rose. This is as much for your benefit as it is for mine. I can find another wife to get my inheritance, but good luck trying to explain why you lied to your boss.”
Her nostrils flare, the moonlight catching the fire in her eyes. “Why the hell are we even arguing about this? We’ve committed to it now. The fact that you didn’t think about the consequences and now feel guilty isn’t my problem.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just turns her back on me and tugs the covers up to her chin. My heart pounds furiously in my chest, angry because she’s being fucking stubborn. But also because she’s right. I thoughtabout Jazz being pissed and how it would impact me, but I didn’t consider how this was going to affect anyone else.
And she’s right about something else: we’ve committed to the lie now. I just have to grin and bear the fact that, when this is all said and done, some of my favorite people might not want to be in my life anymore.
10
ROSE
Do you really need that stick up your ass? - S
P.S. 87 days (but who’s counting?)
“What are you wearing?”
I look down at myself, wondering what I could possibly be doing wrong with this outfit. Black slacks, a white shirt, a black blazer. “This is what I always wear to work.”
Sierra is wearing an ankle-length white floral dress with a caramel-colored shirt over top, tied in a bow at the bust. “You’re not going to work, Cannon. You’re going to a picnic.”
“Aworkpicnic.”
Sierra pinches her brow. “Oh my god. You can’t wear that. You’re supposed to be showing people you have a life outside of work.”
I consider myself and, though I won’t admit she’s right out loud, she might just be. “Fine, whatever. You can pickwhat I wear. Make me look like you or whatever you need to do to make me seem likable.”
The corner of her lips lifts in a shit-eating smirk. “Are you saying I’m likable?”
“No, I’m saying youlooklikable. The problem starts when you open your mouth.”
She shrugs. “Eh. It’s compliment-adjacent. I’ll take it.”
“You really should raise your standards,” I mutter under my breath as I follow her into my room.
“Yeah, no shit,” she replies as she yanks my closet doors open. “I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I woke up married to you.”
I bite my tongue. If I don’t, we’re going to be snapping at each other all day, and I don’t think that’s entirely typical of newlyweds.
“Lose the blazer and the pants,” Sierra says, rummaging through my closet. I wince as a shirt falls off a hanger. She looks over her shoulder at me and snaps her fingers. “Now, Cannon. You’re the one who’s pissy if you’re not twenty minutes early.”
Gritting my teeth, I shrug out of my blazer, step out of my slacks, and fold them. I turn around to place them on the end of my bed—hopefully I won’t have to steam them before work on Monday.
“Huh.”
I spin around, and Sierra is squinting at me. More specifically… “Are you staring at my ass?”
