Page 11 of The Husband Hoax


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“The more you talk, the more curious I get.”

“Awesome. I’m like a sideshow monkey.”

He chuckles. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but they don’t talk.”

Is it possible for me to screw this up before I’ve ever started? “See? Nervous.”

Émile tilts the hand he’s still holding out. “Are we going to shake on it or not?”

“Oh.” I take another step, eating the distance between us, and close my hand around his. His skin is …sosoft. And warm. And … and … I tear my gaze from our hands to his face and find him already watching me. His lips are quirked like he wants to laugh but is holding it in.

“How long until the wedding starts?”

“Less than an hour. I was gonna use this time with Jordan to go over a few basic get-to-know-you facts.”

“Well, we’re running low on time now, so why don’t you give me the CliffsNotes.”

“I’m suddenly having second thoughts about this.”

“You can have as many thoughts as you like, we’re committed now. I’ll go first. I was born in America, basically country-hopped most of my formative years before my parents and grandparents settled here rather than England, but I was sent back there for university. I’m … in business management. Have a large, invasive family, and think you’re completely adorable.”

My gut flips over at the word adorable, but I remind myself that of course he wants people to think that if he’s my date. “Yes. Right. I think that too. Obviously. Christian Kilpatrick. I live in George Park District with, uh”—my cheeks blaze, but I press on because while it might be embarrassing to share a house with other people at twenty-seven, Seattle isexpensive—“five roommates because rent is fucking expensive around here. And I’m an actor, I guess. I’m in a play right now.”

“Theater?” His face lights up.

“Yeah. Just in the ensemble, but—”

He squeezes my hand before dropping it. “We’re going to have to work on your confidence. Firstly, remove the wordjustfrom your vocabulary.” Émile springs onto the bottom step and flings his arms wide. “I’m a dancer in an incredible performancefull of talented thespians, and my work has allowed me to house five others under my care. I’m a real Mother fucking Theresa.”

I grab his arm and drag him off the step. “First, no swearing. They’re, uh …” I pull a face. “Uptight. Religious. Think a lot of themselves. Take your pick.”

“Let me guess, they come from money?”

If only. “Dad and his brothers invested in Cryptocurrency when it was first a thing and made a shitload. That was before … well, we moved into a huge house and then when I came out, suddenly the house was too small for the three of us.”

“Your family sounds charming.”

“Please don’t judge me based on them.”

“Oh, I certainly am.”

My face falls.

“I’m wondering how you turned out so seemingly nice. Tell me, you’re into some hardcore sadism, aren’t you?”

“W-what? No?”

“Hmm. Pity.”

My eyes almost fly out of my head. “Areyou?”

“I so badly want to tease you and be mysterious, but I don’t think you’d survive it. I’m relatively vanilla for someone with a French name. My forefathers would be disgraced.”

I chuckle but that twisting anxiety doesn’t let my amusement get far. “What if they figure us out?”

“How could they? If what you said is true, I probably know you better than they do at this stage.”

“That’s a good point, but …” I glance at him, at those steady eyes, before I quickly look away again. “We have to be … boyfriendly. I told Josie—my cousin—that I was bringing a guy I’d been seeing for two years.” I still can’t believe those words slipped out. How am I supposed to have that kind of connection with a complete stranger? “Oh no, they’re gonna know, they’re gonna—”

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