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“No. It means you need to seek therapy.”
He laughs as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. “I’ve been there. Done that. Turns out if you’re not interested in changing, they can’t help you much.”
I shake my head. “Imagine that.”
He grins. “So I heard you needed my services.”
“Depends. How flexible are your plans over the next few weeks?”
“For you? Consider them canceled.”
I release a sigh. “I seriously owe you one. I can’t get much done with this brace when it takes me twenty minutes to type a single paragraph.”
“You’re going to regret asking for my help.”
“Probably, because you can’t focus for shit, but I’m all out of other options. I’m not about to spend hours next to a temp. At least this way you can make my job slightly more bearable.”
“You sure know how to flatter a man.”
“Declan doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.”
“Because, most days, he can barely be classified as human, let alone a man.”
Oh, he’s all man all right. I’ve seen the evidence in vivid detail.
Cal shudders at whatever expression is on my face. “Oh God. Whatever put that look on your face needs to go.Now.”
* * *
Declan’s mood deteriorates throughout the day. I’m almost hesitant about introducing my plan, but after all the work I put into it, I can’t go back now.
“Why are we stopping?” Declan reaches out to press the driver’s call button, but I stop him.
“Welcome to phase one of Operation Fake Dating.”
He turns in his seat and stares at me. “What are you talking about?”
“This is my plan. Together, we’re going to squash any doubts about our marriage, starting tonight.”
His lips curve downward. “With fake dating? What does that even mean when we aremarried?”
“It’s simple really.”
“I’m burning with anticipation here,” he deadpans.
I ignore his mood. “I planned a few public outings to make sure we are seen by anyone who is anyone in Chicago.”
“You lost me at public outings.” He reaches for the call button, but I latch onto his hand to stop him.
I release him instantly, afraid a torrent of butterflies might take flight in my stomach if I touch him for longer than a second. “I know you want to stay hidden away in your suburban mansion, but avoiding the press isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”
“It’s worked before.”
“I’m sure it has, but are you willing to bet your twenty-five-billion-dollar inheritance on it?”
I’m surprised he can get any words out with the way his teeth grind together.
“No.”
