Page 67 of Her Fantasy Husband

Chapter Thirteen

Lexi spent an hour wandering the streets, trying to get her head straight.

She needed…she wasn’t sure what she needed. What could help her right now? Finally, she went home because the place always had the effect of soothing her. She sort of hoped the place would be empty, but as she pushed open the front door, she could hear voices from the kitchen. It sounded like the whole gang was here. She tried to tiptoe past, needing the sanctuary of her room, but the kitchen door opened before she reached the stairs.

“Lexi?” It was Jean, and Lexi turned reluctantly to her. “Are you all right?”

She plastered a smile on her face. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Jean gave her a strange look. “Josh called. He said you were upset about something and wanted to know if you’d gotten home okay.”

He had? She stamped on the little flicker of hope that woke deep inside her. “I’m fine.”

Jean came out and hustled her into the kitchen. “Come and sit for a minute. We’ve hardly seen you the last week.”

Tom and Sarah sat at the table, both with worried frowns on their faces. Luckily there was no sign of Harry, and his Porsche wasn’t in the drive. She didn’t think she was up to any pretense right now.

“Honestly, guys, I’m fine.”

Jean pulled out a chair for her and pressed her gently on the shoulder until she sank down. Tom got up, grabbed a bottle of red wine, uncorked it, and poured her a huge glass, pushing it across the table toward her. “Drink.”

She drank.

“We want you to know we’re here for you,” Sarah said. “You took us all in, helped us when we needed it.”

“You’re our family,” Tom said.

Aw.

She really wished they weren’t being so nice because tears were pricking at her eyes and heat was rolling over her, and she really didn’t want to break down in public.

“You’re strong,” Jean said.

“I am?” She didn’t feel strong. She felt all wishy-washy and about to fall apart.

Jean nodded. “You help everyone else, but you don’t think you need help. But everyone does, honey, at some point.”

Lexi took a gulp of her wine, then another. Tom reached across and refilled her glass. She chewed on her lip. Drank some more. Took a deep breath. “I’m in love with Josh.”

There, she’d said it.

She waited for the cries of disbelief. Peered around the table. Tom looked…sad. Sarah was nodding as if she’d said the most sensible thing ever. Jean pursed her lips then sank down in the chair next to Lexi and took her hand.

“Love’s a bitch,” she said. “And he is one good-looking guy.”

“And he is your husband,” Sarah added.

“My pretend husband.” Lexi almost smiled. “And he doesn’t believe in love, or he’s scared of love or…” She shrugged. “Whatever. He doesn’t love me anyway. Told me he’d never love me.” She sniffed, blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She emptied her wineglass in one go and held it out for more. Tom hesitated, and she glared. The wine was creating a nice buzz in her brain. “And it hurts because he’s sooo perfect.”

“No man is perfect, honey.”

She rested her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand and sighed. “I don’t mean he’s actually perfect.” Though waking up with him deep inside her came as close to perfection as she could imagine. “But I never knew it could be like that, and now he doesn’t want me anymore.”

“I’m guessing he wants you. He’s just told himself he can’t have you.”

“He’s damaged goods. He told me he’s broken.” She took another gulp. “He said I go around fixing people.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

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