Page 75 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
He closed the dishwasher door and turned around, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. "Who was he?"
"I told you. Kramer. He's a friend from?—"
"How close of a friend?"
The question caught me off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I walked into my kitchen and found my wife crying in another man's arms."
"So?"
"So it's been less than a week, Sadie. If you're already having second thoughts?—"
"This isn't about second thoughts," I snapped. "He was being supportive. Friends do that."
"Right. Friends." He said it with enough skepticism to make my jaw clench.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
But I wasn't going to let it go. "No, I want to know what you're implying."
Harrison ran a hand through his hair that was already mussed from his workout. "I'm not implying anything. I'm stating a fact. You're married now, and there are certain expectations?—"
"Expectations?" My voice rose. "From who? The school board? Your father's ghost? Or are you worried about what people might say about your fake wife having male friends?"
"This has nothing to do with?—"
"Because speaking of rumors," I continued, my anger building momentum, "half the school thinks you're sleeping with another teacher while you're married to me. So maybe you should worry about your own reputation before you police my friendships."
Harrison's face went white. "That's not true."
"Which part? That people are talking, or that you're not sleeping with her?"
"Both." His voice was flat, final. "I haven't touched anyone else since—" He stopped himself, pressing his lips together.
"Since what?"
"Since you."
I felt my anger falter, replaced by confusion and something that felt dangerously close to hope.
"Then what is this really about?" I asked quietly.
Harrison looked at me for a long moment, and I saw something vulnerable flicker across his face before he shut it down.
"I don't want him in this house around my daughter," he said. "I think I should have the right to meet your friends before you expose my daughter to…"
The coldness in his tone hit me harder than a slap. After everything—after the nights we'd spent together, after the way he'd held me, after the careful kindness he'd shown my mother—he was drawing lines around what parts of my life were acceptable.
"Do you have a problem with my friends?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "Or is it because he's gay?"
"What?"
"You heard me. Is this about Kramer specifically, or do you just not want any gay men around your precious daughter?"
Harrison stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "That's not—I didn't know he was?—"
