AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Laughter bursts out of me. The kind that makes my sides hurt. “You are truly awful at this, Jenny.”
She’s laughing too as she turns to me, going up on her toes to examine my face. “You okay?”
“I mean, I can’t see out of this eye?—”
“Seriously?” Her expression falls.
I grin. Blood thumping at her nearness. The way her brows are curved upward in genuine concern. “No, I’m not serious. I’m fine. Morally offended that you suck so bad at frisbee, but otherwise okay.”
She puts a hand on my chest and gives me another shove. “I almost wish I gave you another black eye, jackass.”
“I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”
“I’m not always sweet.”
GodI wanna kiss her. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
An electric heartbeat of silence stretches between us. Her eyes toggle between mine. She gonna kiss me now?
Something cracks against my shin. I look down and see Cher at my feet, frisbee in her mouth, tail wagging.
“Guess I’m gonna be the one who handles Cher’s professional frisbee career from now on.” I bend down to take the frisbee out of the dog’s mouth. Tell myself I’m not at all gutted Jen didn’t go in for the kill. “Here you go, honey.”
sixteen
. . .
Jen
Broken-In Black T-Shirt
Saturday.
I wake up with this weird, buzzy feeling in my chest. Tuck and Maren are coming home from the hospital today with Reese. I’m excited for them to start their new life as a family of four. I can’t wait to hold that sweet baby again.
I’m also more than a little trepidatious that my brother will burst through the front door at any moment with a baseball bat in his hands after someone tells him they saw Abel and me all lovey-dovey together this week.
Even if that doesn’t happen, Abel and I have to tell him we’re quote unquote married. Sooner rather than later. Just the idea of having that conversation makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Will he kill Abel?
If he doesn’t, will Tuck buy that Abel and I are actually married?
Will he ever forgive us for getting hitched behind his back?
All good, if sobering, questions. Life has been nothing butsobering lately, though—well, with the exception of every interaction I have with my fake husband—and I tell myself that we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
After our picnic on the beach earlier this week, Abel and I haven’t seen a whole lot of each other. He’s had to work and so have I. He had drinks with some clients on Wednesday evening, and then I had calls until late on Thursday and then dinner with a friend last night back in Wilmington.
I tell myself it’s a good thing we’re getting some space. It’s not like we’re actually married. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bummed we haven’t been able to hang out more.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about Mollie’s proposition all the damn time.
Do I ask Abel to consummate our pretend marriage? If I did, would it be taking advantage of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, or would it be an act of epic stupidity?
All I know is my vibrator’s gotten a lot of use over the past handful of days.
Back home in Wilmington, my Saturdays are typically nice but busy. I try not to work. I’ll get some exercise in first thing in the morning. I’ll treat myself to a smoothie or a wrap for lunch, then I’ll run errands and pick up the house. Go out with friends for drinks at night.
