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I sit up straighter. “You’re selling her house, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what she wanted.”

“She never told me that.”

“Me either. Timothy did after you left the day we found out about…” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence because we both know how life-changing that day was for both of us.

I settle back in my seat. “Wow. I assumed she’d leave it to you.”

“Well, I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested in living here long term, so I probably would have sold it anyway.”

I nod, understanding yet again just how temporary this move was for him. And that’s what we agreed on, so I’m not sure why it’s making my chest ache. “So, what are you planning on doing for work while you’re here?”

The corner of Gage’s mouth tips up. “Not sure I’m going to be able to foot my half of the bills, wifey?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“You didn’t seem to mind after I kissed you earlier.”

Yeah, my body sure as hell didn’t mind that kiss—every single second of it.

“That’s because I was too focused on trying not to throw up afterward.”

Gage barks out a laugh. “That’s not what your nipples were saying.”

I glance down at my chest as if they’re betraying me now.

“Nice piercing by the way,” he adds casually. “Only could handle the one side, huh?”

I cross my arms over my chest, not realizing my piercing was that obvious through this shirt. “That’s inappropriate, even coming from you”

“Oh, but my kiss was vomit-worthy?” He arches a brow. “Don’t dish out the shit-talking if you can’t take it, Spitfire.”

“Oh, I can take it.”

Gage’s eyes darken as if we’re both thinking of something else I could take.

Oh, God. It’s only been five hours since we’ve been married and I’m already feeling my defenses weakening against this man.

Gage clears his throat. “Back to your question—I saw there’s a tattoo shop down on the boardwalk. Figured I’d stop in this week and see if they could use some help. I’m not one to just sit on my ass, Hazel.”

“ I get that. I rarely take time off…and when I do, I feel guilty about it.”

“I guess that’s one thing we have in common.” He gestures toward the coffee table. “Looks like you make time to read, though.”

My eyes find the stack of books he’s referring to. “Sometimes. If I don’t feel like I can concentrate on reading, I’ll listen to an audiobook and color instead.”

His brows rise toward his hairline. “You color?”

Carefully, I reach for the adult coloring book sitting on top of the stack and hand it to him. “I’m not coloring Disney Princess pictures. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Gage flips through the pages, reading off some of the designs. “ Fuck this. Kiss my ass. Is there alcohol involved? ” He looks back at me, one brow raised.

I shrug. “Being an adult sucks sometimes, so I try to find the humor in it when I can.”

“That’s one way to handle things, I guess.”

“The responsibilities never end. In fact, I was thinking…since you’re here now, I could use your help with Blueberry.”

His gaze drops to the dog on my lap. “With what?”

“Well, sometimes I work late, especially on weekends. He needs to be taken for walks, fed dinner, loved on. My neighbor’s daughter has been coming by to check on him, but since you’re here, that’d be a big help.”

Gage scratches Blueberry’s head. “Yeah, I guess I can help with the little man. How’s he been doing since…”

I stroke the dog’s back. “He’s doing better now. He whined for the first few days, scratching at the door as if he wanted to leave my apartment and go back home.”

“She really loved this dog,” he says, his voice tight.

“ I know.” I sigh. “He was lucky to have her.”

“Guess he’s lucky to have you now, huh?” Our eyes meet and the solemn mood from this conversation now rests between us.

A sharp knock at the front door startles us both.

Gage frowns. “Are you expecting someone?”

Blueberry jumps off my lap and runs to the door— not to guard it, but to wag his entire body in anticipation of whoever might be on the other side. He used to do the same thing at Diane’s house, always eager to greet a visitor.

I glance at the clock on the wall. “Oh yeah! The male stripper I ordered is right on time.”

Gage’s laugh fills the room, warm and deep.

Placing my plate on the coffee table, I stand from the couch and cross the room, opening the door to find…no one. I look around for a sign of anyone, and my eyes land on a pink envelope lying on the doormat.

“What is it?”

I jump at Gage’s closeness, spinning to find him standing right behind me.

“Some space would be nice.” I scoop up the envelope and slide around him, heading toward the kitchen. I lay the envelope on the counter, eyeing it cautiously.

Gage is right on my heels. “Forgive me for wanting to know why the hell you’re getting a letter mysteriously dropped off at six o’clock on a Wednesday.”

“Sometimes the mail comes late,” I argue, trying to convince myself as much as him.

“To your front porch ?” He looks at the envelope. “And there’s no address, Hazel.”

“Well aren’t you just a modern-day detective…”

Gag e gives me a deadpan look. “Are you going to open the fucking letter or not?”

I swipe the pink envelope from the counter and slide my finger under the seal. “No need for profanity, dickhead.”

He rolls his eyes. “Man, this marriage is off to a great fucking start,” he mutters as I pull a piece of paper from the envelope and instantly feel goosebumps prickle over my skin.

“It’s a letter from Diane.”

Gage moves closer, peering over my shoulder. “What?”

Neither of us speaks as we read the letter.

Gage and Hazel,

Congratulations, newlyweds! I have to say, as I write this letter, I’m hoping it’s not for nothing.

But, if you’re reading it, then that means my proposition was persuading enough to make you go through with the marriage.

Selfishly, I’m ecstatic about that prospect.

But I also know you’ll need more incentive to give this a real shot, so there are a few more stipulations to the inheritance.

In the coming months, you’ll receive more letters from me.

Each one will designate an activity you must complete in order to receive the money at the end of the six-month timeline.

Documentation is a must, and everything must be submitted to Timothy upon completion.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you do anything crazy like skydiving.

But I do believe that in order to make a marriage work, you should be able to have fun with each other, speak candidly, and put trust in one another. After all, my hope is that the two of you realize how perfect you are for one another. Remember?

Don’t worry. This letter doesn’t contain anything for you to do yet. I figured I’d give you time to acclimate to your new normal before springing anything else on you just yet.

Love you both. Here’s to a lasting marriage .

Love,

Diane

Gage lets out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face. “This is just fucking perfect,” he mutters as he stalks to the fridge and yanks it open. “I need a drink.”

“All I have is wine.”

“I don’t even care right now.” He finds the bottle of chardonnay that I haven’t opened yet and shuts the fridge, immediately searching for a way to open it and finding the corkscrew in a nearby drawer.

I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him struggle to get the cork out of the bottle. “Do you need some help?”

He tosses the corkscrew on the counter and peers up at me, defeat written on his face. “Please.”

I pop the cork in two smooth moves and pour us each a glass. After Gage chugs his, he wipes his mouth, grimacing. “Fuck. How do you drink that shit?”

“First of all, wine is not meant to be chugged. And second, you don’t get to complain when I warned you this is all I have.”

I tap my glass against his empty one. “To Diane and her matchmaking schemes.”

Gage exhales through his nose, eyes flicking down to his drink. “She really wasn’t joking around, was she?”

“Nope. We should’ve known she had something else up her sleeve.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I can only imagine what she’s going to make us do.”

I tilt my head, considering. “Do you think it will be bad?”

Gage shrugs. “All I know is, if the money wasn’t on the line, I’d ask for an annulment right now.”

I scoff as I take another sip of wine. “Yeah, you and me both.”

Neither of us says anything for a few seconds, both still processing.

Gag e exhales and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Well…guess I should go unpack.”

I nod, still caught up in my own thoughts. Diane’s letter just made one thing painfully clear—this isn’t going to be as easy as we thought. But the part I can’t stop wondering about?

Why was she so convinced we’d fall for each other?

It’s safe to say that whatever connection she believed we’d have was all in her head. Based on the way we already argue, there’s no way in hell any type of relationship between the two of us would ever work.

“Married for money, not love,” I repeat out loud to myself as I pour myself another glass of wine, remembering that the man freaking out in the other room is now my husband , and there’s no going back from the choices that we made today.

The only way to get through this is to just keep pushing forward.