His eyes widen. “Wait—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
I reach for the wine bottle and fill my glass. I’m going to need a hell of a pour to get through this night.
Looking him dead in the eyes, I say, “I’m not saying anything… yet.”
“But you’re considering?”
My lips press into a tight line.
There are worse people I could be married to. And aside from everything I’ll have to deal with from my family, there’s no one I trust to have my back more than Matt. Even if it is pretend.
At least we’d have fun. Laugh. Heismy best friend, after all.
I’d move into his massive penthouse instead of living in my tiny…Oh, shit.A surge of anxiety slams into my chest.
“We’re not having sex,” I blurt. Because if we do, everything gets blurry. I won’t be able to tell where pretending ends and something real begins. “If we do this,” I add in a rush, “you and I... we’re not sleeping together.”
He winces. “The fuck we aren’t. You think we’re just gonna go five months without sex?”
I hear him. I really do. It’s alongtime. But that’s a line we can’t afford to cross. Not now. Not with our history. It would only complicate things later.
“You can sleep with whoever you want,” I say firmly. “I don’t care. Honest. It just won’t be with me.” I shake my head, already regretting how far this has gone. “We’re not getting married and having sex. I’ll play the devoted wife in public when I need to, but I’m not pretending behind closed doors. Like we’re what—in love?”
It’s a bad idea. Confusing in every possible way. Sexually. Mentally. Emotionally.
“Who said anything about pretending to be in love?” he fires back. “Jesus, babe. We’re talkingfive months. That’s a long fucking time.” He finally cuts into his steak. “And just so you know, I would never sleep with someone else if we were married. That’s not who I am.”
“But I wouldn’t care,” I say quickly. “Because we wouldn’t really be together.”
He scoffs. “It’s still cheating in my eyes… and I’d never cheat. Even if it’s fake.”
A smile tempts my lips, warmth melting in my chest.
Why?Why does hearing him say that even matter?
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not signing a prenup. Just so you know.”
“I’d never want you to,” he says easily. “I know you wouldn’t fuck me over.”
Idiot.I kick his leg lightly with my heel. “Don’t be stupid. See? This is exactly how I know you haven’t thought this through. The tabloids will eat you alive if you don’t make me sign one. What if I came after your money?”
“You wouldn’t.” He shrugs, completely unfazed. “And even if you did? I’d gladly pay. As a thank you.” He grins as he pops a piece of steak into his mouth.
I just shake my head. It’s all I can do. Disbelief washes over me. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Minutes ago, I was wishing he’d open up. Now I almost wish he hadn’t.
“So what would this actually look like?” I ask. “I move into a guest bedroom in New York and come here on the weekends you have Cole? I’d need my own bathroom, obviously. I’m not sharing a Jack and Jill with a twelve-year-old boy.”
“You can have a guest room in New York,” he says. “But here?” His gaze holds mine. “You’d be in my room, babe.”
“Matt—”
“Sleeping,” he says firmly. “Not fucking. We need to appear married to Cole.” A cocky smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Besides, my wife doesn’t sleep in the guest bedroom.”
A flicker of panic sparks, my mind flashing images of the other night—his bare chest, me holding him. The memory lodges in my throat, and I swallow hard.
“And you can do that?” I ask. “See me every day. Sleep in the same bed with me.” I lift a brow. “You’ll keep it in your pants? Five months is a long time.”
“I know.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “But I’d do anything for that kid.” He leans forward, voice steady. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”
