Page 9 of The Husband Hoax


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Whelp, that’ll do it.

He’s heading in this direction but hasn’t spotted me yet, so I straighten as casually as I can, and turn to head for the doors. A few people attempt to stop me, but my desire to get away is stronger than my desire to be caught in a conversation with him. I don’t need to hear about his yacht or his work or the new house slash car slash stocks he’s bought to know that nothing has changed there. And I definitely don’t need to see that smug face as he tells me about his engagement.

Not only is he creepy, but he’s the one person in my family who’s openly homophobic toward me—all in jest, of course. Well, I’m not laughing. It’s hard enough being around people here knowing that the only reason they’ve decided to tolerate my gayness is because it looks good for the family. I’m anasset.

My gut turns again.

I need to get out of here.

As soon as no one is looking, I slide out through the side door and in the quiet of the hall, I suck in a huge breath. The uptight, obedient son act melts away and it’s a relief to feel likemefor the first time all day. I need to get home, get out of this suit, and wash the gel from my hair. Then I’ll read my letter and hopefully put this day behind me.

I head for the front doors to get some fresh air when they open and what can only be wedding guests spill inside. Regency staff are directing them to the new ceremony location so I duck my head and turn in the other direction until I find a set of doors that lead to the back of the building.

They’re silent as I push them open and slip out into the enormous gardens.

Pure peace settles over me, until one word rips through the air.

“Fuck.”

Chapter 4

Christian

Oh no, no, no, noooo.

I gape at the message fromDatesforRatesand my stomach drops through the ground. This can’t be happening. Thiscan’tbe happening.

Sure, I didn’t know the guy, but having someone else here, someone to share the attention and act successful and rub my gayness and great life in their faces with was the one thing I had to hold on to.

It’s like I can feel the false confidence I’d conjured retreating way down deep and being replaced by my true self, a pathetic, clumsy loser. A loser who’s going to make my parents and the rest of my extended family glad they got rid of me when they had the chance.

My gaze falls helplessly on the message, the wordsfood poisoningjumping out over and over again, and even though my throat is tight with the need to cry, I type out a reply:hope you feel better soon!

Then I shove my phone in my pocket and let the anger take over. “Fuck!” I kick the gravelly dirt on the footpath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,fuck!”

“That word’s a favorite of mine, as well.”

The voice startles me so badly I jump, swinging around and almost losing my footing. A blond man is standing at the top of the short stone staircase, casually leaning against the side of the building. Everything from his styled hair to his suit to his loafers screams money, but there’s something in his expression that screams trouble.

“Sorry,” I choke out, heart hammering loud enough I can hear it beat in my ears.

“Don’t be. It’s a delightful fucking word.” His pink lips hitch on one side.

I manage to force a short laugh, still feeling wrong-footed. “Are you … are you here for the wedding?”

“No. I take it you are?”

I hesitate becauseamI? Now that my date’s canceled, I’m not in a hurry to commit to going. But I nod, because if he’s not a guest, what would he know?

“And by your thrilling performance, I take it you’re not happy about that fact. What’s the matter? Bride an ex of yours?”

I hurry to shake my head. “Cousin.”

“So …”

My heartbeat has slowed, and I finally look at the guy with interest. “You want my life story or something?”

“Or something.”

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