Page 59 of Six Month Wife

And I always blink first.

Just knowing he’s in town spikes my blood pressure. My whole life, I’ve felt the weight of his eyes, the quiet disapproval, impossible standards, and a bar he never let me reach. He didn’t have to yell. One clipped sigh or a singlelook of disappointment did more damage than a lecture ever could.

And now, here we are.

I’m married and we’re in deep. The ink’s dry, so there’s no changing course now—only damage control. And he’s already inserting himself, like he always does.

The estate rep arrives in forty-eight hours, and Leeland's doing what he does best: playing power games under the guise of concern. My job is to smile, let him think he’s steering the ship, and then politely shove him back to DC.

I can handle this.

I scrub a hand down my face. A run on the beach might not fix anything, but it’ll quiet the noise for a few miles.

Without thinking, I throw on some shorts, grab my flip flops, and head to the beach.

When I arrive, I leave my flip flops on the dune and dig my toes in. Immediately, I feel better.

The sand’s cool underfoot, the ocean still waking up. It's the crash of waves, my breath, and the low screech of a gull overhead. I find my rhythm quickly. It's easy, automatic.

Meeting with my dad today is first on the list, the top of the stress pile. But it doesn't end there.

Then there’s Tuesday, when the estate rep arrives. With him, the first verdict on whether this whole marriage charade holds up under a microscope. Then, of course, we have to keep it up for the next five plus months, or however long it is, to meet that seemingly arbitrary six-month mark.

I should be more nervous about that. But I’m still stuck on Adair. Not how she looked this morning, all soft skin and sleepy sass, but what it meant to wake up beside her and not want it to end.

And then there’s Gunner’s offer. A real position. Assistant General Surgeon. Everything I said I wanted before any of this. Before her. Before the inheritance. It’d tie me to Palm Beach, to this version of my life I didn’t see coming.

Do I even stay in medicine? After the inheritance comes through, is it still about the career grind, or does everything shift?

Too many questions. No answers.

So I run harder. I push until my legs burn and the doubt fades into the background. Just sand, breath, and the pounding surf ahead.

I glance at the water. The sunlight's hitting the surface just so, turning everything into gold flecks. This is why I love being here early in the morning before the wind and people change everything.

I like it here. The pace, the people, the space to breathe.

That’s all before I acknowledge the most important part about Palm Beach. Adair.She’shere.

By the time I hit the end of the beach and turn back, I’m sweating, my heart's pounding, and my lungs are burning. There’s something about being here that feels like home in a way nowhere else ever has. I always assumed Palm Beach would be temporary.

Now I’m not so sure.

I stepout of the car once we pull up. The brightness of the midday sun warms my shoulders as I scan the parking lot of the yacht club.

The sleek cars lined up like soldiers remind me whyI’ve never been a true Yacht Club Guy, even though I grew up surrounded by them.

Adair steps out of the passenger side, calm on the surface but with that thin, tight line across her lips. Her ponytail’s sleek, and the sundress is chic but understated, like I suggested. Safe and controlled.

She’s playing the part perfectly, but I know her well enough by now to see the tension in the set of her jaw.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask as we start toward the entrance.

She glances at me, arching an eyebrow. “Lunch with your charming father, who doesn’t like me already? I'm as ready as I can be.”

I smirk. “Good point. You can never be ready for Leeland.”

We step inside, and the cool air-conditioned interior of the club is a welcome relief from the summer settling in at the beach. A hostess greets us and leads the way to a table near the window, where my dad is already waiting.