Page 62 of Real Fake Husband

“Thriving as always,” Mr. Osborn says with a grateful expression. That’s all it takes for him to go off, rambling about his current businesses and how well they’re doing.

Once the wine is tasted and poured, I sit next to Josie, reaching under the table and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back, and I’m reassured she’s okay. I take a bite of one of the stuffed mushrooms, and my mouth explodes with a multitude of flavors. Not wanting to interrupt Mr. Osborn, I nudge Josie, and when she glances at me, I give her an approving nod and a wink. She beams.

Damn. Seriously, she could absolutely be a successful chef if she wanted to be.

Charlotte takes careful, dainty bites of her food. She throws in the occasional comment regarding her husband’s work, but for the most part, Mrs. Osborn remains silent. She doesn’t seem interested in trying to engage Josie in conversation anymore, which I’m sure suits Josie just fine.

“Tell me about the dealership,” Mr. Osborn suggests, picking up his wineglass. “Are you on schedule?”

“Yes, we are. Bikes have already been delivered, our staff is nearly full, and we have an opening date.”

“Excellent. That’s good to hear. I shall visit soon and take a look myself.”

Now Charlotte decides to cut in, her eyes trained on Josie. “These hors d’oeuvres aredelicious,”she exclaims. “Everything is very tasty—I didn’t expect that.”

“Very tasty. You must have spent all day in that kitchen.” Mr. Osborn says.

“Thank you, Mr. Osborn, I was able to prep them after work yesterday,” Josie says with a smile.

“Oh, what do you do for work?” Charlotte asks, meeting Josie’s gaze.

“I’m a waitress at The Diner.”

Immediately, the energy in the room shifts, and I know exactly why.Fucking pinch me, this is not happening.

Charlotte’s smile doesn’t fade, but I notice there isn’t much sincerity behind her eyes. “Oh,” she says. “I see.” She returns to her food without another word in response, completely ignoring Josie—except this time, it seems purposeful.

Mr. Osborn eyes Josie, sipping his wine stiffly, and chooses that moment to continue our conversation. “Anyway. It’s great that you’re on schedule. Construction can be such a hassle,” he remarks. “You know, when I was your age, I was opening my twentieth business…”

I have to admit, I tune him out.

Strange energy has taken hold around the table. While she was smiling and open before, suddenly Charlotte seems completely disinterested in everything that isn’t her plate or her wine. I glance at Josie, and it’s clear she feels the change as well. Her cheeks are red, and she rises to her feet.

“I’ll get the main course,” she says, trying to sound positive.

I need to talk to her privately. “I’ll help.”

“No, no, I got it, babe,” she confirms, her hand on my shoulder to prevent me from standing.

Mr. Osborn is still talking to me, seemingly unaware that I’m hardly paying attention. From the bits and pieces I catch, he’s talking about having issues with his construction crew. Charlotte joins in, and they end up having their own conversation about the woes of finding good help. My gaze tracks Josie as she disappears back into the kitchen.

“When I was a young man,” Mr. Osborn continues, “I remember when I was overseeing the construction of my first dealership. By then I had already managed several and knew how things were run and what was to be expected. There was a contractor, such a rude man, always using foul language and not in the least concerned about his physical appearance, who was always arguing with me, telling me that what I wanted couldn’t be done. Well, I’ve never been one to take no for an answer—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Osborn. Just one moment,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’m going to help my wife.”

“She said she’s got it handled,” Charlotte pipes in. “I’m sure she’s used to serving. Just take a seat. You work so hard, you deserve it.”

Oh,hellno. Too fucking far.

“My wife works hard as well,” I say patiently. “The least I can do is help her carry a tray. Excuse me.”

Not being able to stand another moment in this room, I slip out to find Josie in the kitchen. She’s standing at the counter in front of the food, unmoving. Quietly, I approach her side, placing a comforting hand on her lower back and feeling her body trembling.

“Everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Josie says, brushing me off. “I just needed a moment. They’re…”

“I know.”

---