Page 102 of Pretend for Me

Dev lifts my chin with his finger so that our eyes connect. “Piper, I didn’t know it at the time, but the day I walked into your salon changed my entire life. I’d gone in for a haircut but left having found the woman of my dreams.” He pauses. “There isn’t a person in this world I love the way I love you. This arrangement? The whole charade? It stopped being one a long time ago for me. I’m crazy about you, Peter.”

I shudder on an inhale. “And our wedding this week?”

“I want it to be real, if you want it to be real. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

My glassy eyes bounce between his as I try to find my voice. A voice that seems to be failing me in a life-changing moment like this.

He loves me?

He wants to spend the rest of his life with me?

Could he really mean it? Maybe it’s because we’ve been living together, the close proximity between us. Or maybe it’s because of how intimate we’ve been. Maybe it’s confusing him.

Maybe it’s confusing me?

Isn’t this why I had all the rules?

“Did I scare you?” he asks softly, reading the turmoil on my face. “Baby, are you okay?”

I nod again, then shake my head.

It’s as if something suddenly snaps inside me and every emotion comes barreling to the surface. A wail erupts from my throat, and I bury my head in his warm chest. A sob follows before Dev gently cups the back of my head. My tears stream down my face in a heavy downpour.

He loves me.

He wants our marriage to be real.

Everything inside me yearns to believe it, to say those words back and rejoice in the feeling of being loved. Of feeling whole. But that tiny voice that’s been my guiding force, keeping me safe—unattached, uncommitted, and unloved—screams louder than ever.

“Hey,” he murmurs reverently. “Shh, baby. Talk to me. Tell me what scares you.”

God, why does he have to be so understanding? So sweet?

And gah, so fucking perfect!?

I sniffle, catching my breath, before pulling away to look into his concerned eyes.

“Everything,” I murmur brokenly. “You. This. Us. I’m not right for you, Dev. I’m fucked up in the head. I want to trust what you’re saying, but . . .”

I can’t even finish my thought.

“Hey, listen to me.” His hands grasp my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “You’re not fucked up. You’re perfect. A little diabolical,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, “but so perfect. And as for trusting me? Sweetheart, trust this: I’m one hundred percent in. One hundred percent yours. There’s no one else I want to spend my life with, Piper. No one I want to breed rabbits, do crosswords, or pet hairless cats with.”

My stomach twists and my thoughts collide, taking me ina million directions. My chest constricts, each breath more labored than the last, like my lungs are turning to cement.

“Piper?”

Dev’s voice feels distant, muffled, like he’s underwater. Or maybe I am? I sit up, gasping for air and clutching my chest. God, am I having a heart attack? Am I dying? This feels like I’m dying.

A cold sweat breaks out over my skin while my hands tremble. I think I’m going to be sick.

“Piper!”

Time slows, and the pressure in my chest builds to an unbearable level. I vaguely register the mattress shifting below me and Dev rushing out of the room.

The room spins like I’m in a goddamn Tilt-A-Whirl and I slap my hand down to the mattress, trying to steady myself, but I can’t catch my breath.

God, this is it, isn’t it? This is how I’m going to die.

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