Page 19 of Six Month Wife

“Bribery,” he says, stepping forward. “Twelve long-stemmed apologies in case I came on too strong.”

“They’re beautiful,” I say, caught off guard despite myself. “But what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He holds my gaze, tone softening slightly. “For letting things get… intense. I didn’t mean to blur the line. I wanted the massage. I didn’t expectthat,not that I regret it. I guess I wanted to make sure I got a proper yes.”

I smile. I can’t help it. There’s something reckless about him, but charming too. “A proper yes to…?”

“A real date,” he says.

"I pretend to think it over, burying my face in the flowers.

"A real date?"

“Uh-huh. The kind where I pick you up, we talk, and I don't disappear after."

He leans in and kisses me. Not a post-happy ending kiss, which was urgent and messy. This one’s deliberate, slow, and deep, like he’s trying.

By the time I open my eyes, I’m breathless.

“I want to know you. I think you feel it, too, or am I totally misreading things?”

That hits different. It’s not cocky. It’s not manipulative. It’svulnerable.

I don’t answer right away, because I’m not even sure whatthisis. Lust? Memory? Some weird nostalgia trip wrapped in adrenaline and good lighting? A hot guy with a nice package and a great kiss?

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I admit sincerely, my voice unsteady. “But I know I like it. How’s that?”

He watches me, nervous energy buzzing under the surface. Not the cocky guy from the massage room. Not the smooth doctor from the ER. He's fidgeting, and healmost looks shy. Which is nothing like the impressions I've gotten so far from him.

“You seem like a no-bullshit kind of person,” he says, finally.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He smiles but doesn’t back off. “I like that. I like you. And I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Uh, huh. Why does there feel like a ‘but’ there?”

“So that’s why I’m here, in person. I need to level with you. There’s something I have to tell you before this goes any further.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re secretly married? In witness protection? Planning to flee the country?”

I’ve got a dull ache in my stomach. I’m not sure what he’s about to say, but the disappointment is already welling up inside of me. Of course this was all too good to be true.

He huffs a soft laugh. “None of the above. But this is going to sound like a bad B-movie plot, so hear me out, okay?”

I fold my arms, curious now.

“My uncle passed away recently.”

“Okay?”

“He had this bizarre dying wish. He wanted me to be married, so he tied my inheritance to a marriage clause.”

I stare at him.

“So, why are you telling me this?” Surely he isn’t asking me to marry him.

He holds up his hands. “I know. It’s nuts. I wouldn’t blame you for telling me to kick rocks right now. I guess I wanted you to know up front, because I do like you, and if it came out after the fact, you might not trust my intentions.”