Page 70 of Six Month Wife

Dear Adair,

After careful consideration and consultation with my financial advisors, I’ve decided not to move forward with your proposed investment opportunity at this time. I appreciate your passion for your business and wish you all the best in your endeavors.

Sincerely,

Evelyn Thatcher

I stare at the screen,a lump forming in my throat. I figured it was coming, but seeing it in black and white is a sucker punch.

This wasn’t some cold email or long shot. I’d taken her to lunch. Spent three weeks building the pitch deck. I let her talk about her damn Shih Tzus for half the meeting.

Thatcher’s financial advisors don’t see Citrine as a viable investment opportunity at this time.

I stare at the screen, a lump forming in my throat. I’d been counting on that investment, hoping it could be the break I needed to get back on track. Now it’s gone, just like that.

I take a shaky breath and tuck my phone away, forcing myself to keep moving. I don’t have time to fall apart. Ihave a meeting with Paul tonight, and I need to pull myself together.

But as I drive toward my condo, the desperation I’ve been trying to suppress claws its way to the surface. This fake marriage with Parker has to work. Once he gets his inheritance, I’ll get my cut, and that money might be my only chance to save my café.

I tighten my grasp on the steering wheel, trying to push the thought away. It’s too risky to pin all my hopes on something so uncertain. But what choice do I have?

I checkmy reflection in the mirror for the third time, adjusting the neckline of my dress. The soft emerald green fabric hugs my curves enough to look polished without trying too hard.

My makeup is subtle enough to make me look awake and put-together, and I’ve tied my hair into a low, elegant bun. I look the part, but my stomach is a tangled mess of nerves.

Paul emailed us last night as expected, and we had planned on dinner for tonight, but he insisted on meeting in the lounge at the Club instead.

Less is more as far as I'm concerned. I'll do much better with a glass of wine than having to smile throughout dinner.

Parker and I have rehearsed every detail of our story, practiced our answers to the questions we’re sure Paul will ask. But knowing the stakes, I can’t stop the tiny voice in my head from whispering doubts.

What if he doesn’t buy it? What if we slip up?

Worse, what if Parker finds out how desperately I needthis to work and makes the same assumptions that Leeland did?

I grab my purse and walk to the door, pausing to take one last deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this.

The evening air is warm as I make my way next door to Parker’s condo. The short walk gives me too much time to think.

My phone buzzes in my bag, but I ignore it. It’s probably another notification I don’t want to deal with—another rejection or some new wellness café crisis. Tonight isn’t about that. Tonight, I have one job: to sell the perfect story of Parker and me.

I knock softly on his door, and when it swings open, Parker is standing there, freshly showered and devastatingly handsome in a navy button-down shirt. His dark hair is slightly damp, and his smile is enough to momentarily quiet the storm inside me.

“You clean up alright,” he says, eyes roaming enough to make me blush. “That dress should be illegal.”

“Cute,” I deadpan, brushing past him. "You look pretty good, yourself."

“You okay?”

I give him a small smile, trying to match his warmth, but my nerves must be written all over my face. “I’m good. Just want to get this over with.”

He takes my hand and pulls me inside, closing the door behind us. “Hey,” he says gently, tilting his head to catch my eye. “It’s going to be okay.”

I nod, but I don’t trust myself to speak yet. What he doesn't know, and I don't want to go into, is that I wish I hadn't read that email before this. I need to reserve all of my angst for Paul.

“We’ve got this,” he continues, his voice steady and reassuring. “Paul’s going to believe us. We’ve done thework, and, to tell you the truth, you’re impossible not to like. He’d be an idiot not to approve.”

I let out a small laugh, the tension in my chest loosening a fraction. Parker has this way of making everything seem manageable, even when it’s not.