Page 20 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

Kurt barks out a laugh—the kind that's supposed to sound dismissive but comes out a little too sharp. "That's insane. You don't just marry strangers in Vegas. That's something drunk sorority girls do."

"And yet." I hold up Evelyn's left hand, letting the diamond catch the light. "Here we are."

He stares at the ring like it personally offended him.

"That's not—" He shakes his head. "You don't even know her."

"I know enough."

"You've known her for what, a weekend? I was with her for fourteen months."

"And in those fourteen months," I say, keeping my voice pleasant, "you made her feel boring. Predictable. Like she was taking up too much space in her own life." I tilt my head. "Did I miss anything?"

Kurt's face goes red. "She told you that?"

"She didn't have to."

Evelyn tugs gently on my arm. "Mike, maybe we should just⁠—"

"Get your things, princess,” I tell her softly. "I'll wait here."

She hesitates, looking between us like she's worried about leaving two territorial dogs in the same yard. Which is fair.

"I'll behave," I say. “I won’t touch him.”

Her quirk in a grin. “That's not reassuring."

"It's the best I can offer."

“I’ll be quick,” she says, then disappears down the hallway, her footsteps quick and purposeful.

Kurt and I stand in the doorway, sizing each other up. He's trying to look intimidating—arms crossed, jaw tight—but the effect is somewhat undermined by the protein shake and the fact that he's got a receding hairline.

"Look," he says, lowering his voice like we're suddenly conspirators. "I don't know what she told you, but Evelyn exaggerates. She's emotional. Dramatic."

"Interesting."

"She probably made our relationship sound worse than it was."

“What, like her mentioning the couch?"

His eye twitches. "That was temporary."

"For three months."

"She was comfortable there."

I laugh. I can't help it. "Comfortable. On a couch. In the living room. Of the house she was paying half the rent for."

"It's a nice couch!"

"I'm sure it is." I glance around the visible portion of the house—beige walls, generic furniture, not a single photo of Evelyn anywhere. No colorful throw pillow, no drawings from her students on the fridge door. No indication she ever existed here at all. "Did you ever actually see her? Or was she just someone who happened to live in your space and occasionally cook dinner?"

Kurt's face cycles through several emotions before landing on defensive anger. "You don't know anything about our relationship."

"I know she lit up when she talked about teaching. I know she hums when she's happy and goes quiet when she's nervous. I know she thinks she's boring because someone told her she was, and I know that's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard." I step closer. "And I know that when I asked her to marry me, she said yes without hesitation."

"She was probably drunk!”