Page 28 of The Fake Husband Play
Because suddenly I know I’m going to do everything in my power to give her a reason. Even if this is fake, even if it’s not forever. Because she deserves it.
I reach out, resting a gentle hand on her knee, wherethose ridiculous fishnets are digging into her skin. “It might not be romance, but I have a hell of a lot of respect for you, Eloise, and I don’t even know your last name. It’s not often in life that you meet someone who makes the kind of first impression you do.”
“Thibodeaux. Eloise Thibodeaux.” Her voice is thicker as she adds, “And that means a lot. It really does. Thank you.”
She rests her coffee-warm hand on top of mine, and suddenly it’s all I can do not to turn my palm over and thread my fingers through hers. I want to kiss this woman more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, but I also want to hold her hand.
The inner voice whispers something about this being the most dangerous game I’ve ever played, but I ignore it.
The only thing I want to hear right now is Eloise Thibodeaux saying “yes.”
“It’s not like we’d have to stay fake married forever,” I add softly as I turn my hand, my heart jerking in my chest as she curls her fingers around my palm. “I’ll have to check the insurance rules with HR, but I’m pretty sure being married a year or so would be enough to ensure you’d have protection after we divorced. COBRA coverage should kick in at that point and give you a little more breathing room if you need it. And I’d be happy to pay for it.”
“After a year of living rent-free, I’m sure I wouldn’t need you to do that, Grammercy,” she says, the fact that she’s even entertaining the scenario a sign of how far we’ve come. “I’m a hard worker and a good saver. I’m not in this position because I’m lazy or careless, I promise.”
“I would never think either of those things about you, Elly. Neither would anyone else.”
She sighs. “You’d be surprised. There were people in my old neighborhood who thought I was a deadbeat for living off Mama and Papa’s life insurance for a while after they died. But I was seventeen years old and pregnant. I was studying for my GED and had doctor’s appointments to get to. There wasn’t enough time for a part-time job. And then Mimi was born, and it was all I could do just to keep the two of us alive for a while.” She laughs, a soft, weary sound. “A newborn was a lot more work than I imagined, and Mimi was a great little sleeper. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for moms who have babies with colic, who cry all night.”
“A lot of them have a partner to help out,” I remind her.
“A lot of them don’t,” she counters. “There aren’t many good ones out there these days, Grammercy. Believe me, I’ve had enough run-ins with the scum of NOLA to prove a girl should always pick the bear. So, you have to promise me something.”
I nod. “Shoot.”
“Promise me you aren’t a secret psychopath with plans to hurt me or my daughter. Because if you hurt Mimi, I’d have to kill you. And then I’d go to prison and she’d be an orphan just like I was. And I don’t want that for her.”
I squeeze her hand gently as I promise, “I will never hurt a hair on that sweet baby’s head, Elly. And I’ll do my damnedest to treat you the same way. I know things are more complicated between adults, but all I want to do is help. Help and…maybe be your friend, if you need one.”
Her expression softens. “Yeah, I do, Mr. Graves. I really do.”
“Me, too.” I brush my thumb across her knuckles. “Then it’s a—” Before I can finish, a voice calls out from down the hall.
“Mama? Where are you, Mama? Are there snacks yet? I’m so hungry.”
“I’m just down the hall getting them, baby. Be right there.” Elly releases my hand and leaps to her feet, the spell broken between us.
She starts toward the vending machine, but I shoo her away.
“Get out of here,” I say, pulling out my wallet. “I told you, I’ve got this, I just got distracted. Go see how she’s feeling. I’ll be there in a minute or less. Tell the hungry girl she won’t be hungry for long.”
Lips curving, Elly nods. Still, she hesitates another beat before starting toward Mimi’s room, proving how alien it is for her to trust that someone’s watching her back.
And yes, I doliterallywatch her back—those shorts make it impossible not to—but only for a second. Then I’m at the machine, punching the numbers for all the chips that end in “O.” I grab a couple of my favorites, too—pickle chips, kettle chips, and some cookies and crackers, too, figuring a kid in the hospital deserves options—and hustle back to bay twelve.
When I push through the curtain, Mimi is looking much more alert than when we first arrived. While Elly adjusts her pillows with practiced ease, the girl’s big brown eyes land on my face.
A beat later, she’s grinning. “Grammercy Graves? What are you doing here?” She pats excitedly at hermama’s arm. “Mama, it’s Grammercy Graves! From hockey! We watched you win the Stanley Cup!”
Elly let’s out a slightly nervous laugh. “We sure did. That was a fun night, huh? We should go to parties more often.”
“Yeah, we should,” Mimi quickly agrees, her gaze dropping to the haul in my arms. “Are those for me, Mr. Grammercy?”
“Mr. Graves,” Elly corrects gently, but I shake my head.
“Call me Gee,” I say. “All my brothers’ kids do. Less of a mouthful. And yes, Miss Mimi, these are all for you. I’ve got all your favorites, some cookies, and my personal chip of the moment.” I dump the treats at the end of the mattress and hold up the bright green bag, giving it a little shake. “Pickle chips, the only thing half as good as a fried pickle dipped in ranch dressing.”
“Ew,” Elly says with a laugh.
