Page 67 of Six Month Wife
She blushes, barely, but recovers like a pro. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Bets used to tell me all the OR stories when I worked as her assistant.”
“Ah, so you’re the one with the organizational skills,” Samuel says with a grin. “You can keep Parker straight.”
She laughs, and like that, she’s got him in the palm of her hand.
We talk a little longer about old hospital stories, blood drive turnout, and trade some good-natured ribbing. She handles all of it like she was born for this.
And I stand there, uselessly in love with a woman I’m not supposed to keep.
She makes it all feel real. The contract, the deadlines, the borrowed time, none of it matters when she looks at me like that.
And for a second, I forget we’re faking.
At one point, we’re standing under one of the tents, watching the crowd.
“You’re good at this,” I say, nudging her lightly.
“At what?”
“At putting people at ease and bringing out the best in them.”
She shrugs, but there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “It’s not that hard. People want to be appreciated.”
I look at her, really look at her, and for a moment, I forget that this is all supposed to be fake. She’s not playing a part. This is who she is—kind, genuine, and endlessly captivating.
There’s no script for the way she smiles at strangers or throws herself into chaos like she was built for it. That’s not acting. That’s just... Adair.
The fundraiser wraps up in the late afternoon, and bythe end of it, we’re both exhausted but happy. The blood drive is a success, with more donors than we expected, and the food drive collects enough to stock the local pantry for weeks.
As we pack up, Adair turns to me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“That was fun,” she says. "I appreciate you making this happen for me, for Citrine. It might be the nicest thing anyone's ever done."
“It was fun,” I agree, surprised by how much I mean it.
For a moment, we stand there, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but lean in and kiss her. Everything about being with her feels so right. I excuse myself to talk to the Blood Mobile driver.
The sun dips lower in the sky, casting golden light over the now mostly empty space. The tents are nearly packed up, the last of the blood donors waving goodbye as volunteers finish loading boxes of canned goods into a waiting truck for the food pantry.
Adair stands by the refreshment table, sipping one of her juices and chatting with a few loitering volunteers. She's effortless, her laughter floating on the breeze, and I’m struck again by how natural she is at this. At pretending, I remind myself, but the line between real and fake feels thinner every time we’re together.
I head over to join her, but before I can say a word, she glances past me, her expression shifting. Her smile falters, replaced by a furrowed brow.
“Parker,” she says, leaning in slightly when I get to her. “That guy over there. By the tents. Do you know him?”
I turn to look, careful not to be too obvious. A skinny man in a dark suit lingers near the edge of the parking lot, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He’s out of placeamong the casual crowd, his stiff posture and polished shoes a stark contrast to the laid-back vibe of the event.
“No,” I say slowly. “But he’s definitely not here for the blood drive.”
Adair’s voice drops. “He’s been watching us for a while. I noticed him about twenty minutes ago, but I thought maybe he was waiting for someone. Now I’m not so sure. Do you think it could be someone from the attorney's office? I thought you said he would be here later, though.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. Why would someone be watching us?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I say, though I’m already running through worst-case scenarios. “Maybe he’s lost.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, the man begins walking toward us.
He’s all sharp angles with his narrow face, thin limbs, and a tie knotted so tightly it looks like it might strangle him. When he reaches us, he stops short of invading our personal space, his dark eyes flicking between Adair and me.
