AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Does he still sleep in a T-shirt, then? Boxers?
Nothing?
I manage to roll my eyes. “In high school. You and Tuck were thick as thieves then. I barely saw y’all.”
Abel’s dad struggled with addiction and was abusive. He’d kick Abel out almost as often as Abel ran away. Abel would stay with us, usually only for a night or two. But when he showed up on our doorstep dripping blood from his unrecognizable face when he was sixteen, Dad drew a line. He called the cops, filed a restraining order, and didn’t allow Abel to return to his parents’ house until Mr. Miller came to apologize in person—two months later.
Two months. I was only eleven, but even then I could see that Abel was distraught. I know he liked living with us. That’s when Mom and Dad really took him under their wing, and he became a permanent fixture in our family. He stayed close with Dad after my parents divorced ten years ago and Mom moved to Maine to live with her boyfriend.
“You can see me as much or as little as you want this time around too,” Abel says.
I scoff. Not at the ridiculousness of this situation. But at the idea that I wouldn’t want to see Abel.
He carefully sets the dogs down, but they jump back onto his leg, tails thumping against the carpet. “Your dad may have time, or... he may not. We should do this now, Jenny. And hey, maybe it doesn’t end up working out, and we just?—”
“What, upset my dad by telling him we tried to fake date but failed?”
Abel’s eyes get shiny. “That won’t happen.”
“If you say so.”
“Where are your suitcases?” Abel glances over my shoulder. “I got dinner in the fridge back home, so I’d like to get a move on.”
He has dinner in the fridge? Meaning he bought or made dinner for us to have together? At his house? Makes sense if we’re married.
The line’s already getting blurred betweenfakeandreal. Because real couples eat together. Real couples live together.
Real wives want to sleep with their real husbands. And I definitely wouldn’t mind sleeping with Abel tonight. Any night.
All the nights.
“That sounds so nice.” I clear my throat. Attempt to clear the filth from my head. “The dinner, I mean.”
“I’m a good host. Now tell me where your bags are.”
“Wait, wait.” I hold up a hand. “This is all so out of character for you. I feel like you must have some kind of ulterior motive for asking me to marry you.”
Abel pauses, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “This probably won’t come as a shock, but I have a certain... reputation when it comes to women. Turns out it’s bad for business. Having a wife will fix that.”
My heart falls. His reason totally makes sense. But part of me hoped he proposed a fake relationship because he secretly wants me as much as I want him.
But that’s just stupid. Abel knows who he is and what hispriorities are, and those priorities have nothing to do with marrying me.
“Right,” I say. “Of course. I see how that’d work out for you, yeah.”
“Now tell me where your bags are.” He tips his chin at the dogs. “And do these valley girls still need their crate?”
“As if.”
“Ha.”
“But really, they do. Otherwise they climb into bed with you and burrow underneath the covers and keep you up all night.”
“Girls are the best.”
Laughing, I give him a shove. “Boys should take notes.”
“Like I said, I’m a good host.” He points inside. “Suitcases that way?”
