Page 30 of The Bad Boy's Fake Wife

I push the distracting thoughts away as we rush together toward the Ferris wheel and join the queue. Soon, it’s our turn, and we get on the machine. The worker straps us in and we start ascending.

“Are you scared?” Jonathan whispers, and I shake my head.

“Why?” I ask.

He points at my hand, the one I’m tapping over and over again against my thigh. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.

I let out a laugh. “Oh, it’s just a bit of nerves, mixed with excitement. I don’t have anything against Ferris wheels, but…I don’t do well with heights.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Jonathan asks with a frown. “We could have tried something else, maybe even the bumper cars or whatever they’re called.”

I shrug. “It’s alright, I’m fine. We don’t stay suspended for long anyway, and as long as the Ferris wheel is moving, I think I’ll be fine,” I promise him.

Jonathan hesitates, his gaze flickering between me and the ride operator. A part of me wonders if he’ll back out to spare me from this, but instead, he exhales and takes my hand, grounding me with his touch.

“For a bit of support,” Jonathan mutters, and my heart flutters. I nod and clasp his hand tightly, and the nervous energy leaves me completely. All that’s left is the tingling sensation from the thought of holding him, and us being so close. It all feels a bit too intimate, and I struggle to make sense of it.

The ride soon gains speed, and I’m lost in the thrill of the rising up into the sky. Jonathan is laughing next to me as I stare far out over the glittering ocean. The wheel isn’t too fast, just enough for me to feel a little breeze on my face. If anything, it’s near perfection.

Until it stops being perfect.

The second we get to the highest point, the wheel suddenly stops, leaving us suspended up in the air. The seat feels lighter up here, and I begin to shake.

“I think the machine is broken,” Jonathan mumbles as he stares down. I try to look down, but we’re so high up in the air that I immediately feel my heart clench.

I close my eyes tightly while muttering to myself, “I can’t believe this is happening to me—just my luck.”

I can’t breathe, and my throat constricts. This reminds me of memories I’ve suppressed so well that I haven’t thought of them in years.

“Emma? Emma, are you okay?” Jonathan asks next to me, his voice worried.

I’m not okay. How could I be? I feel like I’ll keel over right here and now, and then what will happen to me? Fear climbs into my chest and refuses to leave, only clutching my heart and squeezing it even harder.

“J-Jonathan…” I gasp, my hand holding on to his so tightly I’m sure he can feel the terror running through me.

“I got you, I’m here for you. Hold on to me as long as you want,” Jonathan whispers into my ear in a soothing tone. I can hear some commotion happening below us, but I can’t make sense of it. “They’re fixing it. It might take a while, but it’ll be okay, I promise.”

“We won’t fall?” I ask, my voice like a child’s, so fragile and hurt. “I don’t want to die.”

“We won’t fall,” Jonathan says. “Open your eyes. It’s scarier if you can’t see what you’re dealing with.”

I hesitate. I’m not sure knowing how far up we are will make me feel any better. I shake my head, too scared to even speak. Tears well up in my eyes, my throat tightening as I struggle to take a steady breath—just one blink, and I’ll cry. I feel like a fool, like a stupid kid crying because I’ve been forgotten and left alone. Except now I’m not alone. I can feel Jonathan’s strong hands holding me.

“Please don’t let me go, please,” I beg him, over and over again. Because it’s all I can do, and I feel myself getting close to hysteria.

“I won’t,” Jonathan says gently. “Open your eyes and look at me. Look at my eyes.”

I do as he says, and when I open my eyes he’s all I can see. He offers me a gentle smile, and his deep brown eyes instantly make me feel better. I don’t look away, letting his eyes soothe me in a way that words can’t.

“This just in, your eyes are the recipe to solve anything: cancer, fear of heights, world peace,” I joke, making him laugh.

“I’ve heard I have that effect on people.” His eyes twinkle. “You’re my favorite person to test that theory on.”

My heart flutters at his words. “I don’t think it’s fair that you get flirty on me when we’re stuck on the death wheel.”

“Really? What if you did the flirting instead?” he asks, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

“I’d rather not,” I say.

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