“I guess we’ll have to explain why you’re still living at the house.”
It’d be a little strange if we got divorced and then someone showed up while we were sitting on the couch, watching TV together.
Lucy smiles softly. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to live together forever. By the time we get divorced, hopefully, I can afford to have my own place.”
“Are you in a hurry to leave?” I try to tease, but I hear the panic in my own voice.
“You’ve been so great to me. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You’re just fine where you are,” I say hoarsely.
“Miles Granger,” Lucy replies softly, “you’re a good man.”
We ride in silence for a few more minutes before Lucy adjusts her seat to sit up a little straighter.
“I have a confession,” she announces.
“Is it bad?”
“It’s the worst.” She grimaces.
Honestly, at this point, I’m not quite sure what this confession is about.
“I told Felix this isn’t a real marriage.” She blurts the words out in a big rush. “I didn’t mean to, but we were sitting there fishing together, and it was like I had to tell him the truth.”
I wait for the rush of disappointment to hit me. To feel sad that the truth is out and that we won’t win the bet. But that feeling never comes. Even more so, I don’t even feel upset over the time we’ve spent ‘faking’ it.
“That’s okay. There’s a reason I was working so hard to avoid him. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep it a secret from him.”
“No one said anything to you about it?” she asks in surprise. “I assumed when everyone was going around hugging us and saying goodbye that the truth would be blurted out.”
“Grandpa can be a little cagey sometimes. Maybe he’s decided to just keep the secret.”
“So I guess I shouldn’t change my Facebook status to single yet?” she asks with a little grin.
“I didn’t even know you had a Facebook. Does this mean we get to make a joint account together?”
“Absolutely not.” She shudders. “Nothing screams ‘I DM strangers on the internet’ like a joint Facebook account.”
I grin as I grip the wheel with two hands.
“You’re sure you’re not mad that I ruined everything for us?” she asks softly.
I glance at her. “No, I’m not mad at all. But let’s not rush anything just yet. Let’s wait and see what Grandpa does, okay?”
“Okay. It’s a deal, husby.”
Coughing, I turn to glare at her when we reach a straight stretch. “Never. Ever. Use that nickname again.”
“Okey dokey, sweet cheeks.” She freakin’ giggles.
“If I weren’t driving, I’d tickle you until you couldn’t laugh anymore.”
“Good thing your hands are busy, right husby?”
I reach across the console and grip her leg, right above her knee—right at the most ticklish spot. She shrieks and grips my hand.
Alexander wakes up from his nap and starts barking, and I’m forced to release her so that I can drive.
