Page 31 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

He’s hotter than hell, and even now, I want him.

“You know,” he says softly, making my knees weaken, “you were difficult to find.”

My heart stops. Not because I didn’t want to hear it, but because Idid. He actually looked for me? He wantedme?

I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone like him to find me, someone who would stick around long enough to prove to me that they want me, and not the possibility of a starlet in their midst.

Me.

I shake my head hard. I can’t let him in. This won’t end well. He’ll see where I’m from, meet my Mama, and then break it off.

“We were drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

“It’s not a way to start a marriage,” I say, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. “It was impulsive. Stupid. It’s romantic comedy levels of bad decision-making.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? I like a challenge.”

“A challenge?” My voice cracks. “Well, you need to buckle up because I’m a handful, and it might not be today or tomorrow, but eventually, you’ll want out. You deserve someone more... stable. Someone who doesn’t run whenever you get too close. You need someone who will stay even when they don’t need to. I can’t promise you that.”

He leans down, and I can feel his breath on my face. “You think I didn’t know what I was doing?”

I can feel the tears burning now, a sensation that is both ridiculously hot and unwanted. “I snore. Like,loudly. I have trust issues so bad that I once ghosted a guy because he was too nice, because itmade me suspicious. I’m not built for this kind of thing. I’m…broken.”

He doesn’t even blink. “I excel at fixing broken things.”

God. He says it like it was the most obvious fact in the world, like I hadn’t just listed every reason why he should run. And hell, he still wants to stay.

What’s wrong with him?

“I don’t want you to fix me,” I whisper. “I have to fix myself.”

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. He uses his thumb and wipes a tear from my cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. But if you want help carrying the pieces while you figure it out, I’ve got big shoulders and strong legs.”

I hate myself for how much I want to believe him.

And I hate even more that a small, dangerous part of me wants to give it a shot. I swallow hard. My throat is tight, and my chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it. “There’s more,” I add in a panic because all my reasons to make him run off are flailing. “I’m a workaholic. I overthinkeverything. I catastrophize for fun. And Ialwaysexpect people to leave, because eventually… they do.”

He nods slowly, like he knows what I’m talking about, whether he does or doesn’t really matters. Because he’s still here, he patiently waits for me to get it off my chest.

I take a breath. And I continue to spew all of my darkest beliefs.

“I push people away before they get the chance to disappoint me,” I add, my voice rising. “I ruin good things. Iruinthem. I don’t want to ruin you.”

He just looks at me calmly and states, “Are you done yet?” As if it’s nothing.

My mouth opens, then shuts. “Um, I don’t know,” I say, but it comes out weakly.

The smell of his expensive cologne fills my nose, and I’m studying the threads in his designer shirts. “You’re bluffing,” he says at last.

“Excuse me?” I blink and peer into his crystal blue eyes, the kinda blue that reminds me of the brochures to tropical islands I can’t afford to travel to.

“You’re throwing up reasons like flares. But you’re scared, not broken. And frankly?” He shrugs, shifting on his feet. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t want this.”

The air in my lungs leaves me. I’ve been sucker punched in a bar fight. “I don’t?—”

“Youdo,” he said, his voice low and intoxicating. “You wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince me otherwise if some part of you didn’t already know it’s real. You want me as much as I want you.”