shown up every single night to pick me up on his way to the apartment. Was it to check on the property?
To say I was confused about my husband would’ve been an understatement. I had no idea what to think about the man.
He had been the one to make the marriage offer, but with the way he was acting, so cool and distant at all times, you’d think I’d held an invisible gun to his head to make him say I do.
I didn’t see things changing any time soon if I didn’t do anything about it.
I also had no idea how we were going to keep this charade up if we actually had to stand next to each other and talk to people as a married couple. If anyone had seen us working together at the coffee shop, or even on the terrace that first night, they would’ve thought we were out on a never-ending blind date, forced to endure every minute instead of making a quick escape.
I must’ve been on the verge of falling asleep because when I heard a loud knock, I leaped up and somehow managed to hit the side of my thigh on the edge of the table in front of me. “Jesus Christ!” Pressing my hand to my leg to ease the pain, I hopped over to the door just as another loud knock filled the coffee shop.
Feeling a little drowsy and maybe a little jumpy too, I lifted the side of the newspaper that was protecting everything going on inside from wandering eyes. My heart rate somewhat slowed down when I saw it was just Jack Hawthorne standing on the other side of the glass. Lifting my finger to indicate it’d be a minute, I taped the newspaper back in place and let out a long breath before I started unlocking the door.
Here we go, I thought.
When he stepped inside, I closed and locked the door behind him. “Jack?” Massaging my leg with my left palm, I let my eyes wander his body from head to toe. If someone had forced me to say one positive thing about my husband, it would be that he was born to wear suits. I would have been lying if I’d said I minded that. The black suit, white button-down, and black tie he was wearing at that moment somehow managed to make his ocean blue eyes stand out even more, and I stared at him a little longer than necessary or acceptable. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s a great question. I wondered the same thing, because it’s not like I come here every night or anything. I called you an hour ago. You didn’t answer.”
“What?” I asked, confused. Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I tried to snap out of my still half-asleep state. If I was checking him out and noticing how his suit accentuated his intense eyes, how his stubble looked so amazingly good on him, I must have still been in dreamland. Instead of giving an answer, he went with another question, looking all kinds of exasperated with me.
“Where is your phone, Rose?”
Taking care not to bump into him, I walked around his perfectly muscled body and perfectly stubbled face back to the counter and leaned over to get to my phone, which I had left on one of the lower shelves a few hours earlier. “I haven’t touched it since the chairs got here, and I must have put it on silent by mistake. Is something wrong?” I looked down at the screen and saw two missed calls from Jack Hawthorne and one from Sally. Sally was gonna have to wait while I dealt with my husband.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown on his face.
Glancing up at him, I was finally starting to get it together—only I still didn’t have it together enough to realize he’d asked a question, so I didn’t answer. I just kept staring. For several long seconds, I was thinking he’d somehow managed to look better at the end of the day, every day, while I looked worse as the day went on. Not one single light brown hair was out of place on his head. The longer I looked, the deeper his brows dipped, which added this weird appeal to him that I shouldn’t have noticed. He looked amazing when he frowned—which happened often, as I could attest to—and I was starting to like that expression on him more and more. He didn’t need the frown