Page 53 of Six Month Wife

I chuckle. “I think you will be pleased.”

She tips her head, amused. “You always were a softie when it came to helping people. It’s weirdly comforting to see some things haven’t changed.”

The business part fades, and we ease into a different rhythm that's still easy, but more personal, as we catch up.

We swap a few old stories, laugh about some disaster stories in both of our careers. That's what we always did best--laugh. It’s strange how quickly we fall back into this kind of banter. It's not romantic, easy.

And for a few minutes, it’s nice. Like touching base with a version of myself I haven’t seen in a while.

I don’t hear the door open over our laughter. But I smell her before I see her, that salty, citrusy perfume that hits like a punch to the chest.

I turn, in time to see Adair standing there, framed in the entryway. Her eyes land on the screen, on Rose smiling at me, and something in her face shifts. Shuts down.

Hurt flashes across her face—sharp, fast—and thenshe’s gone. No words. Just the soft click of the door behind her.

“Adair—” I say it too late. She’s already out.

I stare at the door, pulse still racing.

She hasn’t answered my texts. Hasn’t called me back. I’ve been trying to give her space, but now I have no idea what she walked in on in her head.

But I know how it looked.

And that’s enough to ruin everything.

15

Adair

I slamthe condo door behind me, hard enough to rattle the cheap art I swore I’d replace two months ago.

I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. But I do. And that’s a fucking problem.

My keys clatter onto the counter. I kick off my shoes. One smacks the wall, the other vanishes under the couch. I don’t even care. Good riddance.

My heart’s still racing. Not from the shitty day I’ve had, that’s a whole mess of its own. But from the scene I walked into when I finally got home, and was looking forward to seeing him.

Laughter. Familiar. Easy. Like I was interrupting something real.

Who was I kidding? This was never going to be anything except a means to an end. How could I have been so stupid?

I didn’t stick around long enough for introductions. Didn’t let him explain. He doesn't owe me that. And if I'm being honest with myself, I don't have the energy to fake a smile and pretend it doesn't hurt. I'm probably secondsaway from uninvited tears, and that's the last thing I want him to see.

One look at Parker grinning at his laptop was enough. I couldn't see her face, but I heard her sultry voice and watched how happy he looked.

And all I could think was: I shouldn’t have walked into his place like I belonged there. Like I was his wife.

That’s the issue. I’m getting too comfortable. I was the one who set the rules—real marriage, fake affection, keep it clean. But now I’m the one acting like a jealous wife.

It’s all too much. After Evelyn’s lukewarmhmmover my packaging, after grinding at Citrine all afternoon trying to figure out how to pivot before I run out of money, I thought the beach would clear my head.

It almost worked. Until I came home to that.

Doesn’t matter that we both know it isn't real. We agreed to sell it. Six months. That’s it. Couldn’t he at least respect me enough to keep it tight for six fucking months?

But I know the truth, even if I don’t want to say it out loud.

This isn’t about him. It’s about me, about the feelings I swore I wouldn’t catch. It's about the stupid part of me that hoped somewhere in the reaches of my soul that maybe we weren’t pretending alone.