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That’s true.
“Actually,” I say, holding up my left hand, “I got married.”
Scott’s eyes shoot comically wide as he sees my ring. “Holy shit.” The nearby kids snicker, and Scott says, voice louder, “Sorry, all. Swearing is bad. Stay in school.”
They go back to their work, and Scott shakes his head, grimacing. There’s a smile in his eyes, though. Scott has a good rapport with the kids here at the community center. I noticed it the first time I visited over three years ago. They trust him, and I guarantee he could name every single person in this café and those walking through the halls. This place and these people are Scott’s life, his passion. And ever since he enlisted my help, it’s become a bit of a passion project for me, too.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Scott asks. “I didn’t even know you were dating.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it was a drunk Vegas wedding?”
Scott eyes me before snorting. “Not a chance. What’s the real story?”
I keep my laughter to myself. Mostly. “I’ve known him for a while, but nothing happened until recently.”
“Why’s that?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.
Because I was scared? Because I got burned so badly by my last relationship that I can still feel the scorch marks?
“I guess the timing wasn’t right,” I answer.
I probably shouldn’t be discussing this with Scott in the first place, but he would have noticed my ring eventually. Besides, I count him as a friend, and it feels nice to speak freely about Kipp. To talk about him as my husband, not the guy I’m accidentally married to. My coworkers at Elite 8 Studios know what happened between Kipp and me wasn’t real, and yet…that doesn’t mean my feelings are fake. Is it so bad to want to share that with someone?
Of course, the wise choice would be to take my ring off and pretend the whole thing never happened. But fuck. I can’t do that. I just can’t.
“I guess the important question is—does he make you happy?” Scott asks.
Easy. “Yeah. He really does.”
After my visit to the community center, I stop by the gym for a workout. It feels good, putting my body through the paces. I try to exercise daily, a habit that keeps my mind centered and my body in shape.
By the time I get home, it’s early evening, and Kipp is back from work, stretched out on the couch like a cat. He perks up when I walk through the door, a grin lighting his face. I try to ignore the way my insides warm at seeing him.
“Hey, where’ve you been?” he asks before wincing. “Yeesh, I swear I didn’t mean for that to sound so suspicious or, like, needy. I’m smashing this whole husband thing, aren’t I?”
I huff a laugh, toeing off my shoes and setting down my gym bag. “You’re doing just fine.”
“Were you at the studio?” he asks, sitting up.
I don’t for one second consider lying to Kipp. “No, I wasn’t. I was at the gym, and before that, I was working a case.”
Kipp’s head tilts to the side. “A case…”
Here goes. “I guess this is the part where I tell you I’m a lawyer.”
His mouth falls open. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“No,” I say with a chuckle, heading into the kitchen.
Kipp pops off the couch and walks my way, stopping on the other side of the island with his hands braced against the countertop. “Are you telling me my husband is a lawyer by day and a porn star by night? Do you, like, wear sexy singlets under your suits in the courtroom?”
My laugh is louder this time. “When have you ever seen me wearing a singlet?”
“Never,” he says. “Which is a damn shame. Are you serious? About the lawyer thing? Not that I’m doubting you, but fuck. That’s…”
“It’s what?” I ask, pulling some pasta from the cupboard.
“I mean, impressive as shit. And hot. Can you debrief me?”
