Page 85 of Fair Trade

Divorce.

I recoil at the thought of having to once again sign a document in which my true feelings aren’t reflected.

I may have agreed to marry Nick under false pretenses, but those circumstances have since changed.

I have fallen for my husband.

I don’t know if it happened during our mornings together, when we drink coffee, during evenings walks with Delilah, or midday visits to his office where he gives Marla a long lunch so he can eat me out on his desk.

Or maybe it happened while we handed out candy to trick-or-treaters. He bought my mother and aunts high-endHocusPocuscostumes, turning them into the real Sanderson sisters, something they have yet to shut up about.

He got devil horns and an angel halo for us. He wore the feathery halo all night, since he claimed it was only appropriate he dressed as something different on Halloween night.

Or maybe it happened on the nights I stayed up late, responding to his silly emails. Before this marriage even started.

Nick didn’t marry me because he loved me. He did it so he could be in compliance with a will that’s supposed to give him some mysterious asset. Something so important it was worth marrying a woman he never dated in order to secure.

Which makes me doubt what he’s capable of doing once he has it and no longer needs me.

“Where’d you go?”

I blink repeatedly when I realize that Nick is standing before me, blocking my view of the celebrating players.

“Um, nowhere. Just thinking that I want that guy down there,” I stammer.

Nick looks down at the field and back at me. “I’m hoping, for his sake, that you mean you want to sign him to the Monarchs.”

I slap his chest playfully, but he keeps it in place.

“Talk to me, Luisa.” I open my mouth, but he interrupts. “The truth. Please.”

I have no idea what I was about to say, but he’s right, because it would have been some kind of half truth.

His eyes soften as he seemingly holds his breath, and I can’t find it in me to hide much longer.

“Nick.” I drop my head to his chest, unable to look him in the eye.

“You’re scaring me, Angel.”

I huff. “Good. ’Cause I’m scared too.”

His hands slip to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my loose waves. “What are you scared of?” he asks slowly.

A part of me has a feeling he already knows.

“Nick,” I whisper.

“Say it. Please.” He kisses the top of my head.

I gather the courage to look up and almost lose my breath at the pleading look on his face. It gives me the final sense of security I need. “I—”

“Hey, am I still riding with you guys—oh shit, am I interrupting? Is this something newlyweds do? Are there not enough hours in a day for you two to keep it in your pants at work?” Daisy bemoans.

“Shit.”

“Luisa, stay with me. What were you about to—”

“We’re gonna be late. Mateo is gonna kill us if we ruin his surprise. I’m sure their engagement photographer doesn’t want to capture us running into his apartment as he’s down on one knee.” I step out of his hold. “But I’m keeping your jacket. Come on, husband.” I tug on his arm, but he’s unmovable.