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“I’m just glad I can be there for you through this. That’s the only reason I ever wanted to make a bunch of money anyway.”

I meet his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He stares back out at the field as tiny flecks of light start dotting the space in front of us. My lips instantly tip up higher. The fireflies are out.

“You know that my mom struggled to provide for us when I was growing up.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, since my dad was a deadbeat, I promised myself I would never be like him when it came time to get married and have a family.”

But this isn’t a real marriage or family, I think to myself.

“And I know this isn’t the way I imagined it happening, but I’m still glad I’m in the position to be the type of man for you that I always wanted to be,” he continues, making me internalize his words.

The type of man for me? Did he mean that the way it came out, or is he just projecting a general goal?

Easton is doing me a favor here, but he’s also living out the fruits of his labor and the expectations he set for himself.

I can’t say the same for myself at the moment, but at least he’s making it sound like he’s content with the circumstances of our arrangement to some extent.

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished too, Easton. You knew what you wanted and went after it without apologizing for it. That takes guts.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t gone after everything I’ve wanted. I guess maybe I’m trying to make up for that.”

My brows draw together. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “Never mind. But don’t forget that it also takes guts to live your life against the norm, Lennon. And that’s exactly what you’ve done and are continuing to do now.”

***

“Welcome home,” Easton announces as I walk through the front door of his house for the first time.

“Home,” I mutter to myself as the reality slams into me.

This is the place where I live for the foreseeable future, the place I’ll bring my baby home to from the hospital.

Easton drops the box by the hallway entrance before lifting his shirt to wipe some dirt from his cheek.

Holy shit.

When did Easton get abs like that?

I’ve seen the man without a shirt on before, but it’s been a long time. I guess climbing telephone poles is a killer workout.

Easton Buckley has ripples and lines in his skin that an artist would pay good money to sketch. And a happy trail.

Damn that little line of hair is far sexier than it should be.

Reel in those hormones, Lennon. Reel them in now.

Easton catches me staring at his stomach, smirking when our eyes meet. Thankfully, he doesn’t call out my obvious staring. “Let me show you to our room.”

“Wait. Our room?” My feet carry me behind him, down the hall to the last open door on the left.

“Yes, our room. I don’t have a spare bed, and I’ll be damned if you sleep on the couch. Sharing will help sell the marriage, but if you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch until we figure something else out.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Easton.” I glance around the house, specifically the corners of the ceilings. “But do you think the government is spying on us, or something?”