She looks around. “I don’t know. Right here?”
I place our food on the coffee table and then sit in the chair across from her. We get situated and then eat quietly, pausing to comment about the juiciness of the burger or the crispiness of the fries. I’d love to know what she’s thinking—what’s goingthrough her pretty little head—but I don’t ask. With Mira, you can push too hard without knowing it.
Finally, she dusts her hands off and finishes her Coke. “You know what’s weird?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I keep having to remind myself that we’re married because this feels so … normal. And I can’t figure out if that’s a good sign or a bad one.”
“It’s not like we haven’t ever shared a meal before bed.”
She holds up her ring finger, and the diamond that I picked out sparkles. “This isn’t normal.” A grin kisses her lips as she twists her hand to inspect it again. “This is beautiful, Hart. Like, seriously beautiful. It makes me feel bad. I don’t know how much you spent, but it’s too much.”
“I had some extra cash.”
“Okay.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Although I think you’ve lost your mind, I love it. It’s perfect. And I’ll give it back once this is over?—”
“Hush.”
Her brows wrinkle. “What? It wouldn’t be fair to keep this. It had to have cost you a fortune.”
I set my empty Coke on the table and sigh. “The cost doesn’t matter. It’s my money—well, it’s ours now, I guess. But?—”
“Hart …”
“I’m not going to think about what happens next year every day until then.” I search her eyes. “I know we have our rules, and I’m well aware of the terms of this agreement, but can we justnotgo there?”
She sinks back against the cushion and nods slowly. A somberness crosses her features for the briefest moment before she smiles at me again.
My heart pounds as I await her response. I’m not asking her to pretend that this is real, and I hope she doesn’t take it thatway. Sure, that would be nice, but I’m not convinced that it would be in either of our best interests. All I want is to be able to have a conversation, to enjoy a day with my wife, and not think about divorce.
“You’re right,” she says, yawning. “Not about the ring, but about everything else.” She stands, stretching her arms over her head until the shirt barely covers her ass. “You ready for bed?”
My eyes are glued to the hem of her shirt until it returns to its original position. “Sure.”
“I saw that,” she says, smirking. “Be glad you’re my husband, or I’d tell you to mind your business.”
I smirk back at her, standing, too. “You’ve never once told me to mind my business.”
“Would you have listened if I did?” she asks as I follow her into the bedroom.
“Depends.”
“On what?” She stops at the foot of the bed and faces me. “On whether you liked the guy I was dancing with or not?”
I take a step closer to her, watching her pupils dilate. “If someone’s grabbing your ass and you’re smacking at him to stop, whether we’re married or not, youaremy business.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Oh, really?”
“Yup.”
“What about now that I am your wife?”
My wife.
It’s a challenge, a sexy dare that threatens to unravel my restraint. Her lips press together in a cheeky taunt that makes my blood go red-hot.
My pulse kicks in hard as I close the distance between us. Every instinct is to pick her up and throw her on the bed, which is what I’d do if we didn’t have all these prearranged rules. Normally, I’d want to have her, reminding her that I still exist and she shouldn’t forget me.
