Page 68 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
The nurse for my mother was already arranged. The moving plans were set. The courthouse appointment was scheduled. Everything was falling into place exactly as we'd discussed.
So why did I feel like I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life?
I thought about Eloise, about the way her face lit up when she saw me each morning. About how she'd started bringing me little drawings and asking if I wanted to eat lunch with her. About the trust in her eyes when she told me about her day or asked for help with a difficult math problem.
What was going to happen to that little girl when this was all over? When the five years were up and I disappeared from her life as suddenly as I'd entered it? She'd already lost her mother and grandfather. Now she was about to gain a stepmother who came with an expiration date.
The thought made my chest tighten. Eloise deserved better than adults who treated her feelings as collateral damage intheir legal arrangements. She deserved stability, consistency, someone who would be there for her without conditions or time limits.
How could I do this to her? How could Harrison?
The afternoon crawled by. During science class, we talked about chemical reactions, about how certain elements combined to create something entirely different. I found myself thinking about arrangements and marriages and the unpredictable ways people changed when you mixed them together.
At recess, I stood by the playground fence watching my students chase each other around the jungle gym. The October air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of winter. In a few months, these same children would be building snowmen and complaining about having to wear heavy coats.
Would I still be here then? Still pretending to be married to a man who might be sleeping with other teachers? Still trying to convince everyone that our relationship was real while knowing it had an expiration date?
Eloise appeared at my elbow, the way she always did when she wanted to talk about something important.
"Miss Quinn? Are you okay?"
I looked down at her serious little face, at the concern in her dark eyes, and felt tears prick at my own. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Why do you ask?"
"You look sad. And you keep rubbing your forehead the way my dad does when he's worried about something."
The observation was so perceptive, it took my breath away. This child knew me well enough to read my moods, to recognize my nervous habits. In just a few weeks, she'd become attuned to my emotional state in ways that most adults never bothered with.
"Sometimes grown-ups have a lot on their minds," I said carefully.
"Is it about my dad?"
My heart stopped. "What makes you ask that?"
Eloise shrugged, but her eyes never left my face. "He's been different lately. Happier, I think. And he keeps asking me questions about you."
"What kind of questions?"
"About whether you drink coffee or tea. About what books you like. About whether you have any pets." She tilted her head. "I told him you always smell like vanilla and that you never yell at us even when we're being loud."
The simple statement made me smile. Harrison had been asking about me. Personal questions. The kind of details someone wanted to know when they were genuinely interested in getting to know another person. This didn't sound like a man who was sleeping with other women.
Or they could just be the kind of details someone needed to make a fake relationship look convincing.
"Your dad is just being friendly," I said, but the words felt hollow.
"Maybe." Eloise picked at a loose thread on her sweater. "But sometimes adults cry too, you know. My dad used to cry after Grandpa died. But he's been happy lately. Really happy."
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. Eloise reached up and wiped it away with her small hand, the gesture so tender and trusting that it broke something inside me.
"See? Sometimes, adults cry. That's okay."
Before I could respond, the bell rang and she was off, racing toward the building with the resilience that only children possessed. I followed more slowly, my mind reeling.
Harrison had been happier? Because of our arrangement? Because of the woman he was supposedly seeing? Because hewas getting everything he wanted without having to give up anything real in return?
I was almost inside when I heard my name being called. I turned to see a cluster of teachers approaching—Mrs. Evers from second grade, Dr. Sterling from the administration, and two others I recognized but couldn't name.
"Sadie, wait up!" Mrs. Evers’s voice carried the excitement of someone with fresh gossip to share. "We wanted to ask you something."
