Page 12 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

“I don’t know. She’s a gorgeous woman, and she’s going to be mine.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. Possessive like, and I don’t know why.

The situation is like every country song I’ve ever loved and every mistake I’ve ever wanted to make.

A woman slides up next to me, pressing in like she’s claiming her territory. Blonde. Tall. Eyes already dragging over me like she wants to fuck me. And I’m sure she would, just for the story to tell her friends.

“Hey there,” she purrs, hand sliding up my arm. “You celebrating or scouting?”

I don’t even blink.

My woman is at the far end of the room, standing under a beam of golden light, as if the universe wants her to be highlighted. Minidress. Legs for miles. And a face that stops me in my tracks. She’s not trying. She’s not posing. She’s just...there. And every part of me says:She’s gonna be mine.

“Sorry,” I say to the blonde who’s trying to grab my arm.“I’m here for someone else.” Then, I step back just enough to make it clear we’re not happening. And then I move.

I don’t walk—Ihome in.It’s like something in my chest has locked onto her, and I couldn’t stop if I tried. Her laugh hits me halfway there, low and warm and untouchable. She hasn’t seen me yet. She’s too wrapped up in whatever Shay’s whispering in her ear.

But I seeeverything.

The curve of her waist under that tiny dress. The shimmer of sweat at her collarbone. The way her boot taps to the beat even while she stands still.

She’s magnetic. And I’m steel. She turns, and I freeze.

I’m lost.

The world doesn’t go quiet — the music’s still thumping — but somehow all the noise just turns into background. Like a movie, right before the lead walks across the room.

I stopped walking mid-step. Everything else goes quiet.

I don’t even know her name yet. But Idoknow I want it on my lips every day for the rest of my life. I know I want her in my kitchen, in my bed, and in my future. I want to build a life that makes sense around her laugh. I want her hand on my chest when I wake up in ten years, with two kids in the next room, brewing morning coffee together with sunlight streaming through the curtains.

Kal bumps into me. “What’re you?—”

“She’s it,” I say.

He follows my gaze, then whistles. “Yeah. Good luck, pal. She’s got main character energy.”

“She’s gotmy last nameenergy,” I mutter.

The guys hoot behind me. Victor lifts the Cup like a wingman. Blake’s already halfway to the bar, introducing himself to strangers like we’re royalty.

But I remain frozen.

She looks over — just for a second — like she felt me. Then, there’s that shift in the air. And when our eyes meet… and my universe tilts.

It’sher.

The woman I want to bear my children. The woman who just became my future.

Someone grabs my arm — brunette, sultry, eyes like she wants a story for the tabloids. She leans in, palm on my chest.

“Hey, champ,” she purrs. “You celebrating or looking for trouble?”

I smile — not cruel, just honest.

“I’m taken,” I say gently, peeling her hand off my chest.

She scoffs and disappears into the crowd.

But my woman, I’ve yet to meet? She’s a vision.