Page 29 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

And damn, it hits me hard.

Because I can see something in her eyes, it might be fear, the fire that consumed us, or parts of her she wants me to see. Especially those.

She might have run out on me, but I’m not going anywhere, not this time. She can fight like hell, but I’m not letting her go. She has to have feelings for me.

I snap pictures like a fan, and video her singing. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take a million photos of her?

But it’s more than that. She’s made me a lifelong fan with just one show. After her final number, I slipped past the crowd before the last chord faded, pushing through crew members and tangled cables like I belonged. Like the ache in my chest gave me clearance and a backstage pass.

Only one security guard gave me a hard time. I told him who I was, and he didn’t believe me.

“Then your wife should have given you a backstage pass,” he says. He is a large man with a Southern accent. I have to get to Kate. Then, I resorted to pulling out my phone and showing him the latest news, and I waited until the clip flashed to our wedding picture.

“Oh, I know you! Come this way.”

Finally!

He motions for me to follow him. He leads behind the stage, and I walk through the chaos of techs shouting. The gear was being packed up, and someone was yelling for a missing guitar—but all I could see was her door, and I knew I’d wait for however long it took for her to show up.

Because she’s the woman I came to see.

12

KATE

FALLING, QUIETLY

“I’m being pulled in,and fast….” Kate Riggs

He’shere. I hit the last note like I’m trying to drown out the panic in my chest.

I push it aside as the crowd roars. The lights blind me. Adrenaline floods my veins like it always does — a brief, glorious high where I forget my name and all the noise and insecurities that come with it.

But as soon as I step off stage, reality comes crashing back.

The ring is still on my finger, and I’m still a trending headline.

I head toward my dressing room, my throat is raw, my feet are screaming for me to sit, and people are shouting my name. I wave, nod, and smile—automatically. It’s never been this crazy before.

I saw signs in the crowd. “Finn and Kate,” among others, that simply state, “Marry me.”

I ignore them. I hate to do it, but I don’t have the bandwidth, not now. Not when my husband is here to see me.

Husband.

The security clears a path of room, and I follow blindly, because Finn has that effect on me. All I want is a shower, a water bottle, andabout five years of silence. I’m exhausted from flying coast to coast and two back-to-back gigs.

My heart is beating like an engine in a MIG— hot, and devastating.

He’s here. How did he get her so quickly?

I arrive at my dressing room and push the door open.

And that’s when I see him again—our first one-on-one since our wedding.

He’s sitting on my couch with his legs spread. An arm thrown over the back like he owns the place. He looks like sin, sweat, and that goddamn memory I can't remember butfeelin every part of me.

Finn.