Page 111 of Real Fake Husband

“No. You’re scared and taking the easy way out.”

“You think this is easy?” she asks, shaking her head. Her voice reflects her frustration. There’s disappointment in her words. “Do you honestly think that ending this is easy for me?”

“Certainly seems that way. It seems like you’re going to throw away what we have to play it safe.” I lean back in my seat.

“Who’s playing it safe? I have a huge opportunity that I’ve worked half my life for. How is taking over a restaurant and being responsible for all those people working there playing it safe?”

“Because you’re staying where you feel at ease and in control. Josie, you have to branch out, especially if you want to be happy.”

“But Iwashappy with my life,” she insists. “Hell, Istillam.”

“You were content. Not happy.”

“I have Matilda and Kaylin, and everyone else at The Diner. They’re my family—like Theo and everyone at your dealership is yours. They make my heart smile, and what I do or don’t do is going to affect them in the long run. Matilda was there for me when my mom became sick, and she helped me time and time again when I was in a jam, especially in the last three years. I can’t just blow that off because I feel like it. This isn’t just a business decision, it’s a personal one. Why can’t you see that?”

I want to shout. I want to shake her. I don’t know how to make her understand what I’m saying, what I envision for our future. We’re talking in circles, and it’s getting us nowhere.

Then I remember that this is Josie. My Josephine. The most strong-willed, unyielding, stubborn woman on the planet. If I push, she pushes harder. Not much has ever been able to change her mind once her heart is set on something. She’s a feisty little thing, so goddamn bull-headed—and that’s exactly why my pull to her is so fucking huge.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe not. In any case, we won’t get any further.

I fucking hate it.

I hate that I can see her point, that I understand where she’s coming from, not because of some stupid childish need to be right, but because it means I’d have to accept that as much as I care about her, as much as I love her, if she doesn’t want to stay, isn’t ready or willing to see where this relationship can go, then there’s nothing I can do about it.

I’ve gotten to a point wheresheneeds to take the next step.

A heavy atmosphere settles around us, and we fall silent, staring at each other. She’s waiting for my response, waiting to hear what I have to say.

And for once, I can’t find the words.

The silence is broken by a heavy knock at the door.

40

JOSIE

Knock. Knock.

Without a word, Cal gets to his feet and answers. I hear him exchange greetings with the person as their footsteps head in my direction.

Vance enters the dining room after Cal, giving me a warm smile and extending his hand. “Buonasera!Good evening, Ms. Graham. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” I don’t correct him. Technically, I’m not Ms. Graham, but to him, of course, this is still all a temporary thing.

“Hello,” I say, my voice stiff in an attempt to steel my emotions. “It’s great to see you too.”

He takes a seat while Cal remains standing, his hands resting on the back of the chair he just vacated. While Vance makes himself comfortable and starts to pull paperwork out of his briefcase, Cal’s eyes are laser-focused on me. I ignore him, unable and unwilling to look him in the eye, mostly because I don’t know what I’m going to see reflected back.

“I take it you had a pleasant enough month,” Vance says in a cheerful voice. “I’ve spoken with you both on several occasions to verify the arrangement was still being honored.”

I nod, recalling that Vance called us on Mrs. Blanchie’s landline at least twice. “That’s correct,” I say, not waiting for Cal to respond. “We’ve both lived in the apartment for the entirety of the month.”

“Fantastic.” Vance pulls a pen from his pocket, clicking it as he does. “I have drawn up paperwork that states as much, explaining that you both legally swear that you followed the terms of the will and therefore are entitled to your inheritances. If you would just sign here…”

Taking the pen, I scan the document before signing my name on the dotted line. Finished, I slide it over to Cal and hold the pen out for him. He doesn’t move, barely even blinks before procuring it from my hand, his fingers lingering on mine a second too long. He signs without looking, pushing the paper over to Vance once he’s done.

“Excellent,” Vance says, gathering the document. He carefully places it back in his briefcase before pulling out two thicker packets. He hands one to each of us. “Here is the breakdown of your inheritances and the amount each of you are entitled to. If you agree with the numbers, all you have to do is sign the bottom, and I will be able to release the funds to your bank accounts.”

My hands are shaking when I take this particular packet. I knew I was getting a large sum of money, but seeing it all in writing makes it real, solidifies that my life is going to change forever. As if it hasn’t already.

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