Page 84 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
SADIE
The powder room door clicked shut behind me, and I pressed my back against it. The mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized—flushed cheeks, eyes too bright, hair escaping from its pins. Mom's words echoed in my head, and even in my mind they were sharp and cutting despite her gentle tone.
Some marriage this is turning out to be.
She wasn't wrong. I was asking Harrison for the benefits of marriage—a home, his support, his monetary backing, his acceptance of my family, and worst of all, sex. But I wasn't offering him the reality of what a true marriage looked like. I couldn't. We didn't know each other. I was just playing house and he was doing what rich men did—pouring their money and resources out to make a woman happy.
I splashed cold water on my face and tried to breathe normally. This was supposed to be simple. A contract. A business arrangement that benefited us both. Instead, I found myself watching him when he thought I wasn't looking, memorizing the way he tilted his head when he concentrated, the way his shoulders relaxed when Eloise climbed into his lap.
The woman in the mirror looked back at me with guilty eyes. I was falling for my fake husband, and Mom could see it written all over my face. I wasn't sure if it was the stress of the day, or the cramped space I stood in, but it all made my stomach churn again, which had been happening more often. Anxiety always made me feel things physically, but never like this.
A soft knock interrupted my spiral. "Sadie? Eloise is asleep."
Harrison's voice carried through the door, and I dried my hands and opened it, forcing my features into something neutral as I opened it and tried to act normal. The problem was that I wasn't okay. I was spiraling and I knew it. Fatigued, overly emotional, snippy with everyone, and just downright unable to manage the life I was living anymore.
He studied my face in the dim hallway light. "Are you all right?"
"Fine." The word came out too quickly, but I plastered a smile to mask it. "Just tired."
"You sure?" he asked, stepping back to give me space, and my eyes flicked toward the guest bedroom door where I knew Mom was curled up in the bed I was supposed to sleep in. My throat constricted again, and I turned toward Eloise's door. Harrison must've read my mind.
"Your mom probably expects us to share a room…" The apologetic wince on his face made me feel a strange camaraderie in this mess. "But I can sleep on the floor. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
Heat crept up my neck. "You don't have to do that."
"It's no trouble."
But it was trouble. Everything about this arrangement had become trouble. The way he moved around the bedroom with quiet consideration, gathering a pillow and blanket for himself. The way he turned his back while I changed into pajamas, givingme privacy without making it feel awkward. The way he settled onto the floor as if it didn't bother him at all.
I lay in his bed—our bed now, I supposed—and stared at the ceiling. The sheets smelled like him. the pillow smelled like him, and I wanted him to be here with me. Below me, I could hear him shifting, trying to find a comfortable position on the unforgiving floor, and my heart ached to make all this mess just stop.
As much as I wanted to hate him simply because my mother wanted me to hate him. I didn't. I loved how he was thoughtful and sweet and such a good dad. My heart was already getting wrecked over this, and I didn't want it to hurt anymore, but I had no one else to really talk to. Harrison was it.
"Harrison?" I said softly.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For everything today. The way you handled Mom's questions, the way you made her feel welcome. You didn't have to do that."
There was a pause before he said, "She's important to you. That makes her important to me."
The words hit me squarely in the chest. I pressed my lips together, fighting the sudden tightness in my throat. This was exactly what Mom had warned me about. I was reading too much into his kindness, mistaking his natural decency for something deeper.
But then I remembered the way he'd looked at me tonight during dinner, when Mom had been telling one of her rambling stories. There had been something in his expression that went beyond politeness, beyond the terms of our agreement.
"Sadie?"
I realized I'd been quiet too long. "Sorry. I was thinking."
"About what?"
About how I'm falling in love with you. About how terrified I am that you'll figure it out and decide this is too complicated.
"Nothing important," I said, but my voice cracked on the last word.
I tried to cover it with a cough, but Harrison was already moving. "Are you getting sick? Let me get you some water."
"No, I'm fine." But he was already on his feet, and I sat up quickly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Really, I can get it myself."
