Page 26 of The Fake Husband Play
To think.
To string words together to form a coherent thought.
I just stand there gaping at him, certain I must be hallucinating. Or maybe this hasallbeen a weird dream-nightmare mix. Surely, I’ll wake up any minute now, wondering what’s the matter with my brain.
“Say something?” he finally whispers, his brow furrowed.
“I’m s-sorry,” I say faintly, “but did you just…”
“Ask you to marry me?” he supplies. “Yeah, I did.” He takes my hand, sending a rush of awareness pulsing through my entire body. “And I’d love it if you said yes.”
Chapter
Seven
GRAMMERCY
What the helldid you just do?
Seriously, what the fuck, man?
I mean, I knew you werethinkingabout it, but I didn’t think you’d pull the trigger.
You really don’t know when to stay in your own lane, do you?
“Sure don’t,” I mutter to the inner voice as I trail a stunned Elly fifteen feet to the vending machines at the far side of the room.
I don’t, especially when it comes to looking out for people who can’t look out for themselves. I know what it feels like to be vulnerable in a world that preys on people when they’re down on their luck. Elly’s giving the single mom gig everything she’s got, but the deck’s stacked against her. She’s one coin flip away from losing what safety net she and Mimi have left, and I’m not about to let that happen.
What a hero,the inner voice shoots back in a mocking tone.Or you could just be a stalker in the making. Who knows?
I scowl, refusing to dignify that with an answer. Yes, I still find Elly very nice to look at. She would still stop me in my tracks with a single glance, but things are different now. I know her more. I know her heart is every bit as beautiful as her pretty face, and that she needs a friend, not a guy trying to get into her pants.
A friend and a fake husband—two very different things, psycho.
“Cream and sugar?” she asks, turning her tired, shell-shocked eyes my way. But even tired and under the glare of harsh fluorescent lights, those are eyes I wouldn’t mind staring into for a while.
Like…say, the next year, as we pretend to be madly in love?
What could go wrong?
So many things, so very many things. I should tell her that I was just kidding. Or that I’m crazy. Maybe crazy and kidding.
Instead, I say, “No, thank you. I take it black. I’m a simple man.”
Her lips quirk as she presses the button for coffee, straight up. “Right. And I’m the Queen of France. Simple men don’t drive cars like that one out in the parking lot or play pro hockey.”
I exhale a soft laugh and nod. “True. But in my defense, I’ve only had the car for a few months. And I got one hell of a deal on it used from one of my old teammates. He was upgrading to something even more embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” she murmurs, collecting my coffee from the tray. Her fingers brush mine as she hands me the cup, and even that brief contact is enough to send electricity racing up my arm, just like in the storagecloset. “It’s nice, and you deserve nice things. You’ve worked hard for them.”
I shrug a tight shoulder. “Well, thank you. But it’s hard to feel okay driving a sports car when a little girl can’t afford her medicine.” Elly pulls in a breath, but I cut her off. “Don’t tell me the two aren’t related because they are. If you think on it long enough, that becomes pretty obvious.”
“I’m having a hard time thinking right now.” She cocks her head, adding with an arch of her brow, “A man I barely know just asked me to marry him, and I’m spinning out about it a little, to be honest.” She pushes the button for coffee with cream, no sugar.
I file that little piece of Elly trivia away for later and shoot her my most charming grin. “Yeah? Was he cute? Are you thinking about saying yes?”
She shakes her head, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile. “What’s wrong with you? Do they have a diagnosis yet? Or is that still up in the air?”
