Purchased Husband (Trophy Husbands #4) - Noelle Adams Page 0,22

warm liquid is sloshing gently in my nearly empty mug. “I look at other people. In relationships. And it’s like I’m watching a movie. Like it’s completely separated from my life. It’s something other people do, but not me. And every time I’ve tried it, it’s more like I’m playing a role, acting out a part in one of those movies. That probably doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does. I think it does.” His voice is incredibly gentle.

“So when I get right down to the bare bones of it, I guess I’ve always assumed it will never happen for me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.”

“Or maybe you’ll feel differently when you fall in love.”

“Maybe.” I say that not because I really believe it but because I suddenly need to end this conversation. I can’t believe I’ve said as much as I have. I’m even more jittery than I was before, and I’m afraid that pretty soon Damian will be able to see it. So it’s time to make my escape. “Thanks for the hot chocolate. I feel better.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to go back to bed now.”

“Okay.” The quieter mood has been broken now, and his eyes are glinting even more than normal.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Kind of... smug. Like you know a secret about me.”

His eyes widen in ostensible innocence. “What possible secret could I know about you?”

I give him a scowl as I leave the kitchen. “You couldn’t know any secret, but you might think you know. And I’ve got to say the smugness isn’t a bit attractive.”

“Is that what you think?” he asks to my back.

I resist the urge to turn around and give him one last look. “Yes. That’s what I think.”

It’s a lie—an unequivocal lie—but hopefully Damian won’t realize it.

Four

WE FLY TO CHARLESTON the following day. I have to attend one of my mother’s wedding showers on Saturday afternoon, and then we agreed to stay through the following day so we could go to “Sunday supper” at Pop’s house, which is evidently a family institution that cannot be missed.

This shower is being hosted by the Grayson sisters, so it’s at Chelsea’s house. She and Owen live in a large brick house with an expansive yard in an upscale neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.

Our flight was fairly early, so it’s not even noon when Damian pulls our rental car into the long drive leading up to the house. He offered to drive, and I saw no need to turn down the suggestion. As always on our trips to Charleston, he listened to a novel on audio through his earbuds during the flight (it’s always a novel he needs to reread for his research—today it’s Faulkner), and I worked on my tablet.

I’m still working on my tablet in the car.

He turns into a long driveway when he reaches the house. “This is nice.” It’s a polite, generic comment, but his eyes are scanning the house and landscaping, so I assume he means it.

“Yeah. Chelsea’s husband inherited a regional department store chain, so I guess he has some money.” I slide my tablet into my bag and then hook the strap on my arm when he puts the car in park near the front door. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. The shower starts at one, but sometimes they go awhile, and then I’ll probably stay to help my mom get all her loot home.”

“No worries. I can amuse myself for however long you need. Do you want me to come back here to pick you up and help with the loot, or should I just meet you back over at your mom’s?”

I have to think about it for a moment. “I’m not sure. This shower is all for kitchen stuff, so she might want to bring it over to Pop’s place. Is it okay if I let you know later?”

“Sure.” He gives me a faintly surprised smile, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond to my question. “I’m just going to find a coffee shop and keep listening to this book, so I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

“Okay.” I’m about to get out of the car when I remember I still haven’t done something I’ve been intending to do all morning. “Oh. Uh.”

Damian turns in his seat to face me more. “What is it?”

I’m suddenly terrified. Unable to move. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me. This isn’t a big deal. Not at all.

“Is

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