Page 20 of My Mismatched Valentine

It’s still dark outside when I hear Karl’s incessant meows coming from the kitchen. Which, in February in Alaska, doesn’t mean much. It could be five in the morning it could be eight. Either way, it’s too damn early after all the sleep I didn’t get.

A sated smile spreads across my lips as I snuggle into my future husband.

We’re getting married.

Today.

On Valentine’s Day.

Even if the headlines tear my matchmaking career to sheds for marrying a client, I’ll have a romantic story to tell the grandkids one day. Thanks to the lengthy questionnaire I designed, I know Dustin wants two or three.

Karl lets out a rusty hinge yowl, the jerk. It’s the one that sounds like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. Dustin, who’s still fast asleep, seems oblivious to the ear-piercing screeching that is my demanding cat. Lucky man.

I slip out of bed, grab Dustin’s T-shirt I find halfway down the hall, and meet my pushy tabby in the kitchen. He’s stationed in front of the fridge, the green and blue ball sitting next to him.Along with the set of keys gifted to him by his new best friend. Oddly enough, Dustin’s the first man Karl has ever liked. He’s not even a big fan of my brother. He hated my ex.

“I love you, Karl. But it’s a little early to be waking up the neighborhood, don’t you think?” Not that my words have any gravity for either one of us. I’m already fishing a bowl out of the cupboard. He yowls again, just to make sure I know how uncool it was to close the door on him last night. But with the way he weaves around my ankles, I know he forgives me.

I giggle at the image of Karl trying to swat Dustin’s cock. It’s bound to happen now that we’re spending the next ten years together as husband and wife.Hopefully a lot longer than that.

It’s not until I set Karl’s milk on the floor that I notice an odd light beaming toward the ceiling. Curiosity moves me closer to the source. I discover Dustin’s phone resting there, notifications lighting it up like a fireworks display. I reach for the phone to turn it face down, but one email preview catches my eye unintentionally.

Sender:Jerry Wells.

Subject:T Swift Diversion is Out of Control

Preview:At what point do I cut her off? The concert’s been over for two days, yet the Stark woman is still racking up charges…

Karl’s innocent meow draws my attention from the phone shaking in my hands. I look to find Dustin standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of boxers and a smile. “Good morning, beautiful. You coming back to bed? We have a holiday to celebrate before our wedding.”

The sexually driven, too short on sleep to care part of my brain yearns to tackle him to the floor and ride him until the sun comes up.

But the rational part is the one that snaps awake.

“Did you arrange for Trinity Stark to win backstage passes to a T Swift concert?”

Dustin’s smile drops, announcing his guilt.

“What about the shoe shopping spree? No one just wins one of those out of the blue. I’ve never evenheardof such a thing.” My brain starts to race at unstable speeds, remembering each cancelled date. Eachlie. “You never got stood up, did you?”

“That one wasn’t a lie.”

I fold my arms over my chest, hating how his T-shirt smells woodsy and masculine draped on my body. But I don’t dare rip it off and march around naked. I’ll end up pushed against a wall with Dustin inside me, too lost in pleasure to care about being mad. And Ineedto be mad right now. “But the rest of it was?”

“I didn’t want any of those women, Maggie. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

The words don’t compute. “You’ve only known me for a few days, Dustin. Don’t give me some bullshit line about love at first sight.” My body trembles with a cacophony of overwhelming emotions: anger, betrayal, fear. “What else haven’t you told me?”

He stares at me for an insanely long beat, fear darkening the blue eyes I was swimming in such a short time ago.

Oh my god, he really is dying.My heart lurches, but I hold fast. He has to tell me the truth.

His throat bobs jerkily around a rough swallow. “The Blue Sapphire.”

“What—” Relief slams into me, he’snotdying, but only for a second. Because I don’t need him to explain. The memory comes back so quickly it’s as though someone slaps me. I rock on my heels, the counter catching my backside. My death grip on theledge is the only thing keeping me from collapsing. I remember that night in a hazy blur. I’d just filed for divorce because I found out about my ex’s indiscretions. He’d been living a double life. One I knew nothing about. One he somehow managed to twist so that the media blamedme. As though I was the one that was out of control.

Dustin chased off a sleezy man with whiskey breath. I pretended like it didn’t mean anything, but deep down, I was so relieved.

“You’ve been…stalking mefor two years?”

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