Page 25 of Six Month Wife

She doesn’t deny it. “I won't deny that, but probably not the best idea, right?”

“Perhaps not,” I say. “But I won’t pretend I wouldn't love to hone in on the whole making the marriage as realistic as possible.”

Her mouth twitches like she’s suppressing a smile. “So we see what happens with regards to that?”

“We set clear boundaries,” I say. “And if it does happen, it’s not part of the contract. It’s real. Or at least... not fake.”

She nods slowly, like that earns points. “Okay, then. I don’t sleep for money. But I might for fun.”

I grin. “Noted.”

She turns to grab her laptop, but I glance at my phone out of habit. That’s when I see the unread email from Anders Blankenship.

Subject: Notice of Outside Inquiry – Matthews Estate

I open it.

Dr. Matthews,

This is a courtesy notification letting you know that your father, Mr. Leeland Matthews, contacted our office earlier today to inquire about the Roger L. Matthews estate. As a non-party to the will or trust, no details were disclosed beyond confirmation of our firm’s representation. A record of the inquiry has been documented, but I also wanted to let you know.

Respectfully,

Anders Blankenship

Blankenship & Gunner, LLP

Montpelier, VT

I stare at the screen.

He already knows. Fuck.

I lock my phone and set it face down on the table. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I’ve got something more important to secure.

She returns with her laptop tucked under her arm. “Alright. Let’s talk logistics. I want to get this into a rough draft to send to my attorney before I lose my nerve.”

I nod, trying not to smile. “My favorite kind of foreplay.”

That gets a real laugh. The tension breaks, slightly, but it hums under the surface.

She sinks back onto the couch beside me, opening her screen. We start outlining the basics—payment structure, living arrangements, and a few agreed-upon rules.

But her knee brushes mine.

And when I lean in, she doesn’t pull away.

Six DaysLater

Thirty minutesand fifty bucks later, Adair and I are standing in the Palm Beach County courthouse, reciting vows so dry and transactional they could double as assembly instructions for IKEA furniture.

The justice of the peace, a tired-looking woman in thick glasses, drones through the script like she's announcing jury duty, not binding two souls in eternal matrimony.

“Do you, Parker Matthews, take Adair Carpenter?—”

“Yes,” I cut in, a little too quickly. “I mean, I do. Definitely.”

Adair arches a perfectly shaped brow at me. “Easy there. Pace yourself.”