Never Say Yes To Your Fake Husband by Lindsey Hart

Author:Lindsey Hart [Hart, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Passion House Publishing
Published: 2025-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twelve

Sterling

Last month or even last week, if someone asked me about the places I might be in, I would have said London for sure for business. Then maybe Paris after that. Part of me always wanted to look up my uncle even though he never had a relationship with any of us—not even his own kids—after he left my aunt. Or maybe it was them who didn’t want to reciprocate. I don’t know if he ever tried contacting them as adults. One day, I’d like to tell him that things worked out. That we’re all doing okay. I’d like to say I hope he is happy even if he did break my aunt’s heart just a little bit, which I guess none of us really know for sure if he did or not because she resolutely refused to give in and tell anyone that she ever missed him. She might not have. She might have enjoyed her freedom. It was so hard to tell with her. When I think about my mom, I imagine she wasn’t like that at all. That she wore her emotions for everyone to see. I imagine it wasn’t hard to make her wildly happy and that she found joy in all the small things most people took for granted.

Of all the places I would have picked, hypothetically, to be having dinner with my wife—who, by the way, is smoking hot—this place wasn’t one of them.

I picked her up after her guitar lessons were over for the day. I’d found a nice five-star restaurant that had private rooms because privacy was key for us. I’m still very aware that my cousins are out there like three nebulous balls of ass waiting to make an ass destruction.

“This is lovely.” Weland’s eyes trace the private room that I booked. “But does it have to be just us? It feels a little bit…I don’t know. I guess I like it, but it feels a little bit like we have money.”

“We do have money,” I point out.

“You have money.” She smiles faintly. “I’m sorry. You want this to be a nice evening. I’ll shut up and let it be nice, even if it feels strange to do something so…ritzy.”

“I wanted to spoil you,” I tell her.

“I also know it’s because you want this to be as low-key as possible. It’s a nice place. I like the wood on the walls and the fireplace over there. It reminds me of some cottage in the middle of the woods, out of the way. Something no one would ever find. Our private retreat.”

It’s the way she says that word. Our. It gets me longing. It’s the kind of longing I’ve always felt deep in my gut. A longing that says I don’t have a mom or a dad, though I did once, at least a mom, and my whole life, I’ve wanted to just know her. To have her back. I’m shocked that just a few words from this woman are enough to take me there and make me feel that way.

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