Page 62 of My Husband Problem

Until now.

“No, she hasn’t,” Alex says, grinning at his sister. “Everyone will love this.”

I finally glance at her. She looks like she just sucked on a lemon.

“Too bad we can’t get Miles here by Friday,” I say, lifting my glass for a sip, feelingverypleased with myself. “How much more fun would it be for us to play on opposite teams for this? Team Declan versus Team Miles?”

Her mouth is open, as if she’s trying to say something—a protest, I have no doubt—but nothing is coming out.

“Oh,damn,” Alex says. He pulls his phone out. “I’m texting him right now.”

“Seriously?” Beckett asks. “You think he could come?”

“Why not?” Alex asks. “He can use Declan’s plane. And Astrid is here and is his boss. What’s keeping him in Portland?”

Me.

I’m keeping Miles in Portland.

I know I can’t keep him there indefinitely. He’ll choose Astrid over me every time. But I want him to stay in Portland while I figure this all out, win over the town, and convince mywifethat she’s going to stay my wife.

But… bringing him here for this is exactly the kind of spectacle that this town would love and, by extension, would make Astrid happy.

And…damn…I think it would make me happy too. I feel myself grinning behind my glass. It sounds ridiculous and, yeah, fun.

While I expected to have to fight Astrid’s resistance and work to win her over, I didn’t expect shenanigans. I didn’t expect ducks, dozens of people filing through her front door, her signingmeup for bonkers hockey, and…

I underestimated her.

That was a big mistake.

I’m wondering if perhaps her grandfather underestimated her as well.

Does Astrid really need me to take care of her?

No. I don’t think so.

But does she need this town? Does she need all of this…silliness? Does she need these people who love to shine a spotlight on her and would love to do more of it? Who have made her a part of their drama, in a good way, at least in their estimation?

I’m starting to think so.

She’s been adored, admired, and had fans and followers all along. But none have been up close. None have beeninher business. None have been on her front porch.

And that’s a good thing, of course. She doesn’t need stalkers. She doesn’t need fans showing up on her front lawn.

But these people… they’re not on her front porch because she’s rich or semi-famous or rubbing elbows with royalty and celebrities. They want to bring her tomatoes, help her raise ducks, and take care of her grumpy cat. If she was having a bad day, I have no doubt Nora, Sutton, and Andi would show up with milkshakes.

And they want to see her kissed at center ice. Not just for the fun drama of it, though yes, that too, but because they love her and they want her to be romanced and loved, and they want to see it. Hell, they want to be a part of making it happen.

So, yeah, I can do this.

She might not need me to take care of her, but do I want to be in her orbit? Be an up-close, in-person witness to her life and light? Experience what it’s like to have her lobbing challenges and sass at me on a regular basis? Be one of those people on her front porch and letting himself in through her front door?

Fuck, yes.

I finally nod. “Text him. If we’re going to make this a spectacle, it’s gotta be aspectacle.”

“You know there will be cameras,” Lawson says. “A live stream and immediate uploads to social media.”