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“Why not?” Her brow arches.
A reasonable question if any. Having her by my side feels like the only natural thing about tonight, fake marriage or not. She has a way of making anything tolerable.
“You make tonight somewhat more bearable.”
What happened to not needing anyone but yourself?
I’ll go back to feeling that way tomorrow. Tonight I accept I am weaker than usual, with hours of small talk pushing me past my limits.
She looks down at our joined hands with a tight expression. “What a glowing compliment.”
My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist. “Do you want to hear some more?”
“No.”
A small smile forms before I have a chance to kill it. “Why not?”
“I prefer you grumpy and predictable.”
“You can’t mean that.”
Are you flirting with her?
Fuck. Exactly how much alcohol did I drink tonight? I check my one and only glass, finding it still halfway full.
Must be a temporary lapse in judgment given the stress of the situation.
Yes. A slip of the tongue that has nothing to do with Iris and everything to do with my limited patience for people trying to kiss my ass all night long.
“You know why.”
“Maybe but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.” She grins, and a wave of warmth spreads through my chest that has nothing to do with my whiskey.
You hate when people smile.
Except making Iris grin feels like a personal victory.
You’re not supposed to be lusting after your paid-per-vow wife’s smiles.
I snap out of whatever feelings possessed me. “You’re staying with me for the rest of the night.” I leave no room for questions.
She seems to ramp up the wattage on her smile. “You’re kind of cute when you get all flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.”
She wraps both of her arms around my waist, drawing me toward her. Our bodies fit together like two interlocking puzzle pieces. Returning her embrace is reflexive, while the feeling happening inside of me is not. There is only one word I can think to describe the contentedness wrapping itself around my heart like a suffocating vine.
Hygge1.
“What did you just say?” Iris looks up at me with a contorted expression.
Shit. You said that out loud?
I have two options here—admit the truth or deny it ever happened in the first place.
Deny.
“Nothing.”
