Page 131 of Be My Wife

Elizabeth

My phone vibrates, dancing over the table.

Novah arches a trim eyebrow. “Are you going to get that?”

“Later.” I wrap my fingers around my mug of coffee. “This is more important.”

She laughs. “Elizabeth, anyone would think I’m some mobster the way you’re looking at me.”

“How did you find out, Novah?”

“Well, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” She leans back, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “I smelled something fishy from the start. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.”

I tap my fingers on the table, my mind whirring. “Is it that unbelievable that I found someone who loved me?”

“Honey, I’m not stupid. It was surprising enough to find out you had a mystery boyfriend, but when you turned around and married him, I knew there was something going on.”

“Maybe we just love each other,” I defend.

It’s worrying that I can say that so confidently.

It’s terrifying that it feels… true.

Brogan hasn’t said those words.

Neither have I.

But it feels like we’re not faking it as much.

I think we might have something real.

“Maybe.” Novah flicks her fingernail around the rim of her cup. She’s wearing a bright pink lipstick and the stains are etched into the white mug. “The Harrington estate is worth a ton, did you know that?”

“I knew.”

“Your hubby is a billionaire.” She toys with her curly weave. “Or he will be. In exactly two days and twenty-two hours.”

I stiffen. “How do you know that?”

“One of my fiancé’s friends works at the law firm handling the will. I asked him for a favor and he delivered.” She lifts her latte to her big lips and blows on the steam. “I really do love how small this world is.”

“So he’s getting an inheritance. That’s not proof of anything.”

“To get access to the money, he needed a wife. And, according to public court records, Brogan Harrington divorced Lana Phyllis almost three years ago.”

“So you’re a PI now?”

“When something bugs me, I have to get to the bottom of it or I go crazy. You know that, Liz.” She scratches her dark cheek. “It was quite the dilemma. What would poor Mr. Harrington do now that he found himself broke and… wife-less?”

“You’re wrong. Brogan and I—”

“Are what?” She smirks.

“We’re together.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

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