Page 75 of Six Month Wife

Paul taps his pen once on the edge of the folder. “Now that you’re thinking about the future, where do you plan to live together? Here in Palm Beach, I assume? I know you were in LA before, Adair. What brought you to Palm Beach?"

“My cousin, Milo, who lived in Miami, loved Palm Beach. I came here on his suggestion and got a job with Bets Sterner and never left."

"Oh, nice. And you’ve been all over the last several years, Parker. Aren’t you originally from the Washington, DC area?”

I shift in my seat and lean back slightly, draping my arm along the back of Adair’s chair. “That’s correct. We’ve both bounced around a lot, but this place seems to have stuck for both of us.”

She nods, her smile warming. “Palm Beach has that weird coastal magic. I came for a pop-up event and never left. Lucky for me, I got a second chance with my husband here.”

She pats my knee almost a little too hard to hammer home her point.

Paul hums, glancing down at his notes again. “And you two live in the same building?”

“We do,” I say.

“Well—” Adair leans in with a grin, “—technically, we ran into each other again before either of us realized it. I didn’t know he lived next door until after we’d already reconnected.”

I jump in. “What a coincidence, right? I’d bought the place around that time. Hadn’t fully moved in yet. It was interesting, to say the least, when we figured it out.”

She was right earlier. Sticking to the truth does make this easier. It's messy, which makes it more realistic. A few stretched details, a few well-timed glances, and boom—we’ve got ourselves a love story.

I turn back to Paul. “We’ve got adjoining units. Right now, we float between them. Haven’t decided yet what to do with the extra one. I’m pushing for renting it out, but for now, we’re a package deal. As a unit.”

Adair shrugs like it’s no big deal. “We share one kitchen, one bed, and both closets. Mostly because Parker refuses to get rid of his college hoodies, and I needed more room for shoes.”

Paul’s mouth twitches—somewhere between a smirk and a red flag. “So you’re keeping both condos?”

“We are,” I say, steady. “For now. Hers makes a better office. Mine has the bigger kitchen. She cooks, I clean.”

“Sometimes,” she mutters under her breath, not missing a beat.

Paul glances between us. I catch a flicker of calculation in his eyes. We’re being assessed, catalogued. Maybe the earlier fight helped. The tension between us isn’t an act. And that makes this whole thing seem less like a performance, more like a relationship with layers.

“We spent half the night arguing about whose bed to keep,” Adair adds, eyes dancing enough to look in love. “Mine won. Obviously.”

“Because I value my spine,” I say, and she laughs—real, soft, and warm.

Paul leans in slightly. “So the plan is...?”

“To keep doing what’s working,” I say. “We’re notrushing to consolidate addresses to check a box. We’re focused on the relationship.”

“Exactly,” Adair says, slipping her hand into mine, and this time she squeezes it, like we’ve done it a thousand times.

Paul closes his folder. “My job’s usually to make sure claims like this don’t fall apart when money’s on the table. I’ve seen a lot of creative arrangements.”

He studies us. “But you two?” He glances at our hands. “You don’t give me the usual warning signs.”

Adair grins. “That’s good. Because we're in it for the long haul.” She looks at me right on cue and smiles.

“We knew it immediately, the second time, of course,” she continues.

Paul gives us a long, assessing look before closing his portfolio. “Well, I appreciate you both taking the time to meet with me tonight. Anders will want to hear all about our conversations.”

Adair and I look at each other, and I see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly as Paul rises from his seat.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he says, extending a hand to each of us.

“Of course,” I say, shaking his hand firmly. “Looking forward to it.”