Page 54 of Real Fake Husband

It was just a kiss.

Technically there were two kisses.

It was just two completely hot and unforgettable kisses.

Sitting back against the couch, I pick up my abandoned sketchbook. Hey, at least he isn’t mad about the drawing.

He said so many sweet things about my drawings.

Really, really sweet things.

It still seems like I’m walking on clouds with this unexpected boost in my confidence (fromhim, of all people!), and that’s a feeling I haven’t had in quite a long while.

“But before you start drawing,” he says, “we need to talk.”

Oh, shit. That’s never a good phrase. “What’s up?” I ask, trying to keep my voice composed and normal.

“I have an important dinner coming up in two days with a couple of investors,” Cal says, watching me intently. “I wanted to give you a heads-up, because it’s going to be here.”

A sense of relief drifts over me. All right, this I can handle. “Oh, okay. I’ll make sure to clear out that night, and rest assured, you don’t have to worry about them finding my bra lying around.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

It takes a second for his words to register. “Oh…” He’s not telling me about the dinner to make sure I’moutof the apartment. “You want me to be there?” At first, I’m surprised by his response and a little touched.

“You sort of have to be.”

Then it dawns on me. “Is this about the investors that Theo told we weremarried?”

He nods. “Mr. and Mrs. Osborn. They’re expecting you to be here.”

“Dammit, Theo,” I say, resting my head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

“I know,” he says. His forehead is all frowny, and he looks at me like I’m about to shred him and his idea into a million little pieces.

I feel something strange building up in my chest.

We have to pretend we’re real.

That our marriage is real.

That our love is real.

“You can tell Theo I’m going to rip his balls out and then bury him alive!” I put my sketchbook aside and stand up. Feeling like a thousand ants are crawling all over my skin at the same time makes it impossible for me to keep calm. “Heshould play the hostess in my place. Ha! You can tell him I’ll be happy to help him prepare for the good wifey role!”

Cal snorts.

At the same time, a picture of Theo sitting next to him, politely making conversation with the investor’s wife, flashes through my mind. The tattooed hulk of man holding a tiny teacup from Mrs. Blanchie’s dresser in his big fingers, asking if he can refill Mrs. Osborn’s cup.

“I’m sure Gran still has a frilly apron somewhere you can put on him,” he says. “I’ll personally help you tie the ribbons just above his ass into a pretty little bow.”

We look at each other. The corners of my mouth twitch. Cal makes a sound that’s somewhere between a snicker and a stifled laugh.

“All right, I’ll be there,” I say and enjoy the moment of surprised confusion in his eyes. That’s an answer he clearly wasn’t expecting. “But you can tell Theo that he’s going to be paying for this for a long,longtime. We have to make sure we use the good dishes. He could polish the silverware.” With that, all the restlessness evaporates, and I sit down again. On the couch.

When Callum remains silent, I gaze over at him.

He cocks his head at me in curiosity. “Josie, are you all right?”

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