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When she holds my hand and we just talk, pouring out the deepest bits of ourselves so quickly, I forget it’s an act.

What would it be like to be married to Therese for real? Those sharpened instincts I spoke of tell me I could not find a truer, kinder person. Better than just sweet or kind—she invokes a kind of whole-hearted trust that I haven’t felt since I traveled through London with Artie Sloan.

“It’s a good assignment,” I say gruffly.

It’s more than that. It’s a dream that I always told myself would never come true. And it won’t. Even if I can trust her, even though she’s sweet and kind, she wouldn’t want me. Would never love me. And let’s be honest... I don’t know if I could ever truly love someone, even if they loved me first.

THE HOUSE IN PINE RIDGEis adorable—in a “Major Fixer Upper Way.” It’s a small one-story rancher with more wide, green lawn than actual house. It looks like it was constructed ages ago, with peeling siding and a sloping slate roof. It would seem dull if it weren’t for the abundance of flowers and the wide, arched windows. Oh, and the cemetery in the distance certainly adds a lot of... atmosphere.

“Welcome home. We’ll figure out more of ‘our story’ inside. Uh. Do I pick you up?” Reggie asks as Minegold drives away, promising to bring Reggie’s van over in a few minutes.

“Oh. You don’t have to.” I would love it if he did. The only physical contact beyond a handshake that I’ve had has been with Reggie, Mr. Minegold, and Kim, and now Reggie—bulky, musclebound, bald bodyguard Reggie is the only one that’s left.My love language is touch, according to an internet quiz. Matteo never left me hungry in that aspect.

“I think we should. Really sell it.” He nods, factual.

In the car, I told him (and Mr. Minegold) about my life with Matteo and how it had really begun to dull, about the comparisons I’d made with my friends who had chosen a simpler life with solid, working-class husbands. I told them how I threw a fit on the phone and said I had met someone else, a small-town man who would give me a home, let me work, and let me be a real wife and mother. Someone who would start a family.

Matteo had made it clear children were far, far, far away, but I had always dreamed of being a young mom who had the time and energy to grow a big family. I didn’t tell Reggie that last part, of course.

“Well... It’ll look convincing in case anyone’s watching.”

“In this town, you never know,” Reggie sighs and steps close to me, ignoring my bags for a minute. “Tell me if I’m doing this right.”

“Never done it before? Oh, I mean—never beenmarriedbefore,” I chuckle nervously as his hand lands in the small of my back. Why does he feel so good? So solid and soothing? He’s made of clay, isn’t he? Why does he suddenly seem so much more alive than Matteo ever did? “Good plan!” I say, far too eagerly.

“That’s right—well, not before today.”

I love his sense of humor. What is wrong with me? I’m sure someone would say this is all part of the “damsel in distress meets knight in shining armor” dynamic that I apparently enjoy. Matteo saved me from small-town rural life. Reggie is saving me from Matteo.

“Well, then I’m the expert on honeymooning and newlyweds. We should be disgustingly affectionate. Never stop touching. Uh. You know, at least in public.”Why did I say that?

Maybe because it’s the truth? I want someone to hold me and hug me? I’m a big baby who shouldn’t have married in a hurry, and now I need someone to keep the bad dreams at bay?

“As long as you’re comfortable. I never had a chance to practice. Golems are built to fight and die—not to find love and happy endings.”

I’m so mad at people I don’t even know. Maybe I’m just focusing my anger on something outside of myself so my own guilt can have a break. “I’m sorry that’s part of the deal. Can’t you have both?”

He shrugs. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

There’s a pause. Sweat trickles down my neck. “It’s humid tonight. I thought it would be cooler in the mountains.”

Does he feel it, too? The heavy, desperate urge to touch? I lick my lips and feel another trail of sweat forming between my breasts.

“I can get those old AC units working in no time.” He points to the windows on the side of the dark gray house.

“So handy.” I beam. Matteo knew how to work a corkscrew—and a knife. My daddy could fix everything from a tractor to an accordion.

“Thank you, I intend to fix this place up so it matches my beautiful bride.” Reggie bends his knees and lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. My feet leave the sidewalk, and I’m floating. “Welcome home, Mrs. Gray.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gray.” Sell it, he said? I held the cheerleaders’ uniform fundraiser record for all four years of high school. I can sell like no one’s business. My mouth plasters to his as he carries me to the door of our pretend love nest.

By the time he fumbles with the keys and gets the door open, I don’t feel like pretending anymore.

Chapter Seven

She’s kissing me. Like...reallykissing me. I don’t know what to do. My body says to return fire with fire, and she’s a whole damn inferno.

That would complicate the situation. You need to sweep the perimeter. This house is surely warded by now. I have to get her inside. Get her luggage inside.