Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
He emerges from the closet. He’s still wearing the tie, but it’s deliberately loosened, and he’s lost the suit jacket, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I hardly think Immigration Services is going to ask if we cuddle.”
“Especially since you’re a cheater,” I say, turning toward him.
“Yeah, about that—what are you doing?” he asks in alarm as I reach out for his shirt.
I tug one side of it, pulling it upwards until the tail of his shirt is just barely tucked into his slacks.
“Trying to make you look relaxed,” I say. “As though this is your haven, and when you walk in the doors, you let loose.”
“I can’t let loose with my shirt tucked in?”
I shake my head. “No wonder our marriage is crumbling.”
I sit on the side of the bed and rub at the still slightly sore spot on my head from where it hit the desk.
He gives me a concerned look. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
I drop my hand. “My head’s fine. But I have butterflies.”
“About the interview?”
I nod. “I don’t think my acting skills are up to snuff. I have no idea how to play the part of a woman who fell in love with her brother’s best friend ten years ago, married him on a whim, got her heart broken when he cheated, ran away to California, stayed there out of pride, then came back to valiantly try to patch things up, all while trying to plant seeds that it’s not working so there won’t be a complete shock when you file for divorce in a month.”
He slowly sits on the bed beside me. “Well. Thanks to your stellar performance last week, I think it’ll probably be better if it’s you that files for divorce.”
“I just couldn’t get past the betrayal,” I say in a shaky voice, as though holding back tears.
He smiles a little grimly but doesn’t respond.
I look down at my hands. “What does Rebecca think about all this?”
“She’ll be as glad as the rest of us when it’s all over.”
More so, probably. “Does she know about …” I jerk my thumb behind us at the bed we’re sitting on.
“That I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight?”
“I already told you I can sleep on the couch. It’s your bed.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’ve already done enough.”
“Right. The office,” I say. My voice sounds a little flat to my own ears.
“I was going to say your efforts with your hair. You’re right. On second look, it does say everything you want it to say. It’s practically screaming domestic bliss.”
I smile because I know, in a rare role reversal, he’s trying to cheer me up, even though I’m not exactly sure why I’m feeling so glum. Or rather, I do know. I just don’t know what to do about it.
I don’t realize I’m twisting my wedding ring until I see Colin watching the absent gesture, his expression darkening slightly, and I wonder if he’s regretting giving me the ring.
“You can have it back when we’re done,” I say.
He frowns. “What?”
I hold up my left hand. “It’s too much. I know what it costs, and it’s way too much given our … situation.”
“Keep it,” he says gruffly.
“But—”
“Keep it.”
“Well, I guess you can’t do anything with it,” I say. “You probably don’t want to drive all the way to Hudson to return it. Oh, I know! You could give it to Rebecca!”
He lets out a surprised laugh at my cheerful sarcasm. “That should go over well. Besides, it’s not her style.”
I scowl, slightly offended. “It’s gorgeous. It’s everyone’s style.”
“She’s more … modern.”
“Ah.” I twist the ring. “I am too, usually, but this one … it’s special.”
There’s another moment of silence.
“So you two have talked about rings?” I ask softly. “Have you shopped yet?”
This sense of not really wanting to know while also really needing to know is increasingly familiar and highly annoying.
Colin shakes his head and stands. “I’m not going to talk about ring shopping with one woman who’s not even here, while I’m in the same room as a woman who’s supposed to be my wife. You are my wife.”
The words cause an ache deep inside of me, but I force a bright smile. “Good! That’s good. That tone’s exactly what you should use in front of Gordon Price.”
“What tone?”
“You know.” I flex my muscles and squeeze my own bicep. “All manly and possessive. It’s good. Husbandly. Like I’m yours. Have you been practicing?”
Colin doesn’t have a chance to answer because the doorbell rings.
My eyes go wide. “Is that him? I told the guys at the front desk to let him up whenever he got here, but he’s super early!”
“It’s a smart tactic,” Colin says grimly. “Catching people off guard before they can put the final polish on.”
“Well, he already knows our relationship’s got a bit of tarnish,” I say as we head down the hall to the front door. “All we have to do is convince him that everything was shiny and new back in the beginning.”