Page 121 of Six Month Wife
Happy annulment-iversary. Let’s reenact the night we met—minus the estate attorney and awkward small talk. Wear that black dress. You know the one.
I roll my eyes, mostly to distract myself from the ridiculous flip in my stomach.
After Vermont, we agreed to move forward with the annulment. Not because we regretted it—because we don't. We wanted the reset. No contracts. No clauses. But we both agreed we wanted to choose each other the right way.
So naturally, the second I step into the grand ballroom and spot Bets, Jenna, Cam, Gunner, and what looks like half the island—I know“nothing fancy”was a damn lie.
Chandeliers blaze overhead. The tables sparkle with flowers and candles and entirely too much intention. Yacht rock hums in the background, like the night’s in on the joke.
My lungs go tight, and for a second, I forget how tobreathe. A lump rises in my throat, and I have to fight the urge to cry and laugh at the same time. This hashimwritten all over it.
“You clean up nice,” Jenna murmurs, already halfway through a glass of champagne.
“You knew?”
She lifts a brow. “I helped coordinate the playlist.”
Before I can tackle her, she disappears into the crowd like a smug little event fairy.
And then I see him.
Parker, in a navy suit that should come with a warning label, stands in the center of it all like he owns the night. He sees me instantly. That damn smile, the one that ruins me, spreads across his face.
He walks toward me just as the lights dim. It's almost like he timed it.
I blink, trying to focus, but my heart is going rogue. My throat’s tight. My hands don’t know what to do.
“What’s all this?” I ask, aiming for light and breezy, but my voice comes out soft and unsteady.
“You’ll see,” he says, then threads our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He tugs me toward the center of the ballroom. My heels click over the polished hardwood floor.
Voices hush around us, swallowed one by one.
The speakers crackle. Then I hear it—“Baby Come Back.”
The chorus trips over my skin, electric and impossible to ignore. My throat closes. My chest tightens like it’s bracing for impact.
He chose this on purpose. Not for a memory, for a message.
My eyes snap to his. He’s already watching me.
And in that split second, before he even moves, I know.He pulls a small black velvet box from his pocket and drops to one knee. One perfect goddamn knee.
The air whooshes out of my lungs.
“Adair Carpenter,” he says. His voice is strong, but not slick. It cracks, slightly, and that’s what twists me in a knot.
“The first time I met you, you gave me one night. It was unforgettable. Electric. The kind of night that sticks with a man, telling him it is significant before he's smart enough to know it consciously.”
I exhale quickly and shakily.
“Then fate threw us back together. As neighbors. Which, let’s be honest, is the funniest damn thing it could’ve done. Of course we didn't know that until after that amazing massage, but...”
A laugh bursts out of me. I’m half-sobbing, half-grinning, and one hundred percent undone.
“And this time, you brought your sass, your rules, and a contract. We turned one hot night and a ridiculous riddle into six months of absolute chaos—into the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”
