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I nodded, but something twisted in my chest at how easily he compartmentalized it. Of course, he could separate the performance from reality. This wasn’t about feelings for him. This was about custody and stability and legal strategy.
“I should probably get some sleep,” I said finally. “Tomorrow’s going to be another adjustment day.”
Colby nodded and followed me upstairs. I thought about his bedroom, the masculine space that would now technically be ours. The walk-in closet and king-sized bed he’d built custom, and the deep garden tub he’d installed after he and Lyla bought the house.
We stood in his . . . our room, staring at nothing, yet everything.
“We’re both adults. We can share a room without it meaning anything.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but he nodded like it made perfect sense.
“I’ll take the left side. I’m used to sleeping there.”
“Fine.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Good to know.”
“Do you?”
“Not that anyone’s ever complained about.”
The awkward conversation felt surreal. Planning sleeping arrangements with the man I’d married that morning, the man I’d been in love with for years, the man who saw me as a convenient solution to his custody problems.
“Okay, I have a few things to finish up in the workshop and then I’ll be up.”
I could feel the silence of the room weighing on me heavily, making my skin crawl, but not with fear. It was anxiety. A nervousness I had never experienced before. I’d fallen asleep on Colby’s couch too many times to count. We both have. But this was different.
Ten minutes later, I emerged from the attached bathroom wearing one of my most conservative pajama sets and clutching my phone like a lifeline. The room suddenly felt huge, overwhelming, and oddly intimate. Colby’s presence filled the void even though he was still downstairs.
When he finally came up, he moved quietly through his nighttime routine, and I kept my eyes fixed on my phone screen while he changed into pajama pants and a worn t-shirt. The mattress dipped when he climbed into bed, and suddenly the king-size bed felt impossibly small.
“Goodnight, Gianna,” he said quietly, reaching over to turn off the lamp.
“Goodnight.”
The darkness felt heavy and charged with possibility. I lay there listening to his breathing slow and even out, counting the inches between us and wondering how I was going to survive months of this exquisite torture.
This was what I’d agreed to. This was the price of keeping Luca safe and Colby’s family intact. But as I finally drifted toward sleep, with my husband’s wedding ring on my finger and his child calling me family, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in far deeper than either of us had planned.
CHAPTER 5
Colby
The elementary school parking lot buzzed with controlled chaos. Parents juggled car seats and diaper bags while older kids raced toward the playground, their voices carrying across the crisp October evening. I sat in my truck for a moment, watching other families through the windshield and trying to calm the nerves that had been building all week.
Tonight, would be our first public appearance as a married couple. The whole town would see us together, and I knew gossip would start before we even made it through the front doors. But more importantly, Lyla would be here. She’d made a point of telling me during yesterday’s tense phone call that she wouldn’t miss Luca’s art showcase, especially now that he had a “new family situation” to navigate.
“Dad, can we go in now?” Luca bounced in his booster seat, practically vibrating with excitement. “I want to show Mom my painting before everyone else sees it.”
Mom. The word still caught me off guard every time he said it, even though it had been a week since the wedding. Gianna had slipped into the role so naturally that sometimes I forgot this was supposed to be temporary. She made pancakes withoutburning them, helped with homework without losing patience, and tucked Luca in each night with stories that made him giggle.
She also shared my bed without complaint, careful to stay on her side while I lay awake listening to her breathe and fighting the urge to reach for her.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy. Let’s go find your mom.”
Gianna stood near the school’s main entrance, talking to Summer Redman and looking effortlessly beautiful in a burgundy sweater and dark jeans. Her hair caught the light from the parking lot lamps, and she wore the small diamond earrings I’d given her as a wedding gift. She’d protested that she didn’t need anything, but I’d wanted her to have something real from this arrangement, something she could keep when it was over.