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She sighed and stared out the front window in the fading light of the evening. Arguing with Angela was pointless and would only end in her heart aching even more.
In some ways, she was right. Deanwasdevoted, and that was never more evident than when he agreed to give up nearly two years of his life for her.
But none of that translated to Dean loving her the way she’d always dreamt, giving her the kind of marriage his parents had and her grandparents had. It just meant that she would need to fall back on all the years of etiquette training and pretend to be fine for as long as it took for her to land another assignment and run as far away as she could to lick her wounds.
And even though she may live to regret it, right now she would greedily take every second she had with him and hope the memories would comfort her rather than destroy her when she tried to rebuild her life.
She ground her molars together and questioned if her family was truly worth this in the end.
Just as quickly as the thought popped into her head, it was answered as an image of her grandfather floated through her mind and reaffirmed her decision. He was so proud of all their family had done over the years and was proud ofher. Something her mother and father never had been.
So she would suck it up and be the adult she needed to be to get through this. And she’d take every moment of their carefully crafted deeply in love public persona as well as their private friends-with-benefits arrangement and imprint it on her brain to pull out on the lonely nights when she’d attempt to sleep under a mosquito net in the bush. Because that would be the only way she could possibly survive.
A single bright headlight and loud, roaring engine cut through the dark thoughts plaguing her mind and her aching heart immediately thumped back to life. Dean was home. She fought the urge to run and greet him at the door, fairly certain that would be overkill even for the couple pretending to be entwined in wedded bliss.
She caught the clock on the far wall just as the doorknob turned. It was after seven and the damn little voice of darkness taunted her with the idea that he stayed away longer than needed to avoid coming home. Regretting everything from the wedding to the sex.
His face was a little drawn, but his countenance brightened as soon as he caught sight of her and a measure of the weight bearing down on her shoulders lifted. He crossed the few feet separating them and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. A perfectly normal act for newlyweds. “Honey, I’m home.”
Jillian patted the day’s worth of facial hair growing along his jawline. “My hero, bringing home the bacon for his little lady.”
“Soy bacon,” he corrected as he disappeared behind the kitchen cabinets. “Did you guys eat yet?”
Angela held up the empty wine bottle and popcorn bowl. “Does this count?”
Dean poked his head out and lifted a single brow. “Okay, are you two making up for Georgia being out of commission? Popcorn and wine are her designated meals of choice, not yours. I’ll make…something.”
Jillian popped off the couch and followed him into the kitchen, pulling him deeper into the small space, away from Angela’s prying eyes. She scanned his face closer, taking in the dark circles under his lower lids. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “You look exhausted.”
“I am. And my head is killing me.” He leaned into her touch and her heart ached with desire to care for him. “I had a new client today and…it was a bit more than I expected.”
The comment served as a reminder to ask for more detail about his job. Later.
She gave him a tight hug that was far briefer and far more friendly than she wanted and spun him around on his feet, facing him toward the hallway and his bedroom door. “To bed now. Angela and I are perfectly capable of feeding ourselves.”
He took a few steps away then turned back to her. “And you promise it’ll be something more than popcorn and wine?”
Jillian stuck her tongue out and her middle finger up. “Keep up those smartass comments and you’ll wake up to find your hand in a bowl of warm water.”
Dean glanced into living room and made a face at Angela. “Clearly cotillion classes worked wonders on my wife.”
He made his way to the bedroom and her heart tumbled to the floor. How in the hell did two words like “my wife” manage to bring such joy and pain at the exact same time?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dean
Present Day
He pulled the bike to a stop in front of his townhome, threw the kickstand down, and stood, taking off his helmet and holding it under his arm as he jogged up the steps and unlocked the front door. They’d quickly fallen into an easy routine over the past week and a half and damned if he didn’t find himself loving it.
Dean hung his helmet from the large hook Jillian had installed while he’d been at work because she was tired of seeing it on the floor. A small smile tugged at his lips. Apparently the fourth time she’d stubbed her toe on it had been the final straw.
He tugged open the door that led to the basement and the integral garage and descended a few steps to peek around the corner. Jillian had been taking his tiny sportscar every day to work with Sam’s community outreach project and she loved every minute.
Especially driving the fiery red car that had a tendency to entice even the most cautious driver to test the power of its engine.
He pulled a box of the dry plant-based faux chicken from the cabinet and added water and oil so he could form it into what he hoped would look like chicken strips. Earlier in the week Jillian had mentioned wanting chicken Caesar wraps and he’d stored the information away to make for dinner at some point.
