Page 19 of Attached At Heart
“Grab your stuff,” he grunted. “Let’s go.”
It took me a moment to register his words. “What?”
“It looks like it’s all still packed anyway. Just tell me which boxes to load up tonight. We’ll come back another time for the rest.”
“What are you—” He strode past me, beelining for a stack of boxes in my kitchen. He ignored Fred scampering across the countertop and popped open the top of one.
“Pots and pans,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve got plenty, so don’t need those.”
“Blake.”
His head jerked up, looking surprised by my tone. And then he frowned at my indignant expression that probably told him all he needed to know about how stubborn I was going to be about this.
“You can’t live here, Lane,” he said forcefully.
“Well, I don’t have anywhereelseto live.”
“You can move in with me. I have an extra bedroom. It’s fine.”
Everything about his tense tone did not make it soundfine.
“I can’t just—justmove inwith you, Blake.”
His eyes flashed with determination. “Well, I’m sure as hell not going to letmy wifelive in a rodent infestation. And no onewill believe that we got married but have separate apartments. Come on.”
Fuck, he was right.
Of course he was right.
But I wasn’t going to tell him that. Not again. He might be doing far more favors for me than I felt comfortable with, but I was only going to allow him oneyou’re righta day. Still, his logic about keeping up appearances for our marriage made an irritating amount of sense, and because the last thing I wanted was for my grandparents’ executor to haveanyreason not to give me my money, I sighed and stomped my way to my bedroom to grab my stuff.
Ten minutes later, I was walking back out of my apartment, a suitcase wheeling behind me.
“I’m going to miss Fred,” I grumbled.
“Is your relationship with Fred going to come between our marriage, Delaney?”
I shrugged. “It might if you keep me away from him.”
A laugh filtered through Blake’s sigh as he followed me out of the apartment again.
“You can see whoever you want while we’re married,” he said, sounding resigned. “But not Fred.”
“Oh.” I almost stopped walking at that comment, surprised by it and unsure what to say. I hadn’t really thought that far, but I supposed there was only really one way to reply. “You too, of course. You can see whoever you want. Keep all those dating app girlies fed with a healthy serving of Blake London.”
I expected Blake to laugh, but he didn’t. His expression was tight as he led me back to his car. He loaded my suitcase into the trunk before opening the door for me.
“No, Delaney,” he said finally. “I already deleted them.”
I heard a gasp slip out of me. “What?”
“The dating apps.”
“When?”
“When you were packing your things.”
And with that, he closed the door, leaving me to wonder, as I was on my way to move in with my best friend, how fake this fake marriage actually was.
