Page 12 of The Nicest Thing

I was screwed.

So screwed.

Wife.

Who knew one word, one syllable, could pack such a punch?

I mean, I guess I should've. I was a writer for goodness sakes.

Words were my thing. I made a living off of them—not an amazingly stable or lucrative one, but still.

And there was always love. Love was the most powerful word, feeling, phenomenon of them all.

Love could move mountains. Love made the world go round.

Love was what held the sun, moon, and stars in the sky.

I knew all that.

Believed it, one hundred percent.

But I swear, on everything I was or ever had been, being called wife by the man you love could make a person lose their freaking mind.

I was losing mine.

I felt my senses fraying more and more every time Finn uttered the word.

He did it now, turning to me, gazing as if I was the only person in the room.

"So wife," Finn said in a voice that made my knees weak, "how you want to play this?"

Ignoring the warmth in my chest, I nodded to the woman greeting people at the entrance of the ballroom. "That's Portia, the host of the podcast where I became a liar. A dirty, rotten impostor. A romance writer turned con artist."

He bit back a smile. "Maybe don't say any of that when we get up there?"

"Okay."

"And Rose, no worries. We'll get through this together."

I nodded, and suddenly we were at the front of the line.

"So glad you could make it," Portia said, reaching out and giving me an air hug. Her eyes twinkled as they landed on Finn. "And you must be the husband."

"That's me," Finn said, wrapping an arm around my waist.

My breath hitched.

"Finn O'Brien. Her number one fan. Thanks for inviting us."

"Polite, charming, and attractive." Portia clucked her tongue. "My man could learn a thing or two from you, Finn. He's over at the snack table, sulking because I wouldn't let him wear sweats to this high tea." To me, she said, "You hit the lottery with this one, huh?"

I looked up at Finn and couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, Finn's my favorite," I said.

"And you're mine," he said, leaning down to lay a kiss against my nose.

I blinked in surprise.

"Aw, you still have that look," Portia's voice cut through my reverie.

"What?" I asked.

"The heart eyes, love-you-to-the-moon-and-back look. You must be newlyweds."

I swallowed as Finn winked.

"You could say that," he said then ushered me into the room. "Looks like we're holding up the line."

"Thanks again, Portia," I said over my shoulder.

"You and Finn have a good time," she called out.

Once we were far enough away, I turned to him. "You're really good at this."

Finn shrugged.

"You could start a course on charm and fake husbandry."

"Is that even a thing?" he asked.

"I think you just made it one."

Finn chuckled, but I was serious.

And on it went.

"Have you met my Rose?" he said a while later, making my mind and heart melt. Okay, so I loved the whole "wife" thing—I really did—but 'my Rose' definitely gave it a run for its money. "She's a bestselling author."

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," the woman next to him said.

Long, dark hair interspersed with caramel highlights.

Red lips tipped up in amusement. Shrewd, knowing blue eyes.

Black clothes from head to toe. She had an air of experience that made me think she was older, but she could've been anywhere between 40 and 70. "What kind of books does she write?"

"The best romances. Ever."

"Really? I think there are more than a few writers here who would argue that point."

Finn shrugged. "They'd be wrong, but you'll know that once you read her books."

"Finn," I murmured with a mixture of awe and embarrassment.

He turned to me with a smile. "What? It's true."

"It's absolutely not."

"You know I love your books."

He lifted my hand to his lips, placed a lingering kiss over the ring he gave me, and I released a mental sigh.

"Not as much as I love you though."

Leaning up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, I said, "Laying it on a little thick. Aren't you, O'Brien?"

He kissed my cheek then spoke his response directly into my ear, just as soft, his warm breath making my knees weak. "I haven't even begun. These people need to know how brilliant you are."

"But—"

"No buts, Rose. I'll lay it as thick as I want, and you'll take everything I give you with a smile."

The woman eyed the two of us as Finn straightened, and my cheeks flamed.

"Guess I'll have to check her out then," she said, smiling wide.

"You should," Finn said then reached into his pocket, producing one of my business cards. I stared as he smoothly passed it to her. "All of Liv Lamoreaux's books are standalone, so you can start anywhere. But I'd read the Starry Grove series first. Trust me, you won't want to stop."

The woman pocketed the business card with a nod.

I couldn't remember ever giving them out to anyone. Well, besides Finn.

"You look a little overheated," Finn said with a grin as if he knew exactly what his words and actions did to me. "I'll go get us some drinks. You need anything, Mrs…"

"It's Miss," the woman said with a wave, "and no, I'm fine."

Finn ran his knuckles gently along my cheek. "Be right back, wife."

"O-okay," I said stupidly. "Be safe."

He chuckled then was gone.

The woman whose name I still didn't know, turned to me and said, "Where did you find him, and where can I get one?"

I smiled at that. "Honestly, I'm not sure. He kind of found me. Finn's my roommate's younger brother, and one day, he was just there."

"Sounds like fate."

"I guess."

"Did you know you loved him right away or…?"

I swallowed, watching as Finn reached the food and beverages table and was promptly surrounded, female and male authors speaking to him all at once.

This was supposed to be a couples' brunch.

I'd thought that was the whole point. Despite that, even though everyone here seemed to have a date, more than one writer was currently giving my fake husband the eye.

My heart sank.

"We were friends first," I said finally.

"Ah, friends to lovers. A classic."

"It's always been one of my favorites."

"Reminds me of my first husband," she said wistfully. "And my fourth. He was my favorite."

I nodded, frowning as I watched a woman place her hand on Finn's arm. If it made him uncomfortable, he didn't show it. But the small, most likely innocent touch, made me feel ill.

"Does he have any siblings?" she asked.

"A sister and four older brothers," I said absently.

"Are the brothers single?"

"No."

"Too bad," she replied as another person proceeded to ruffle Finn's hair. "You going to just stand here and let them flirt with him?"

It felt like there was a weight on my chest. "I'm not sure how to make them stop," I admitted. "Don't think I have the right."

"Oh honey."

"I mean, I've never done this before. Playing the jealous girlfriend isn't really in my DNA."

Finn deftly shirked them off, never losing his smile.

"Please, it's in everyone's blood. Your eyes are practically green with envy," she commented which made my gaze shoot to hers. She studied me with shrewd eyes, her mouth tipped up in amusement. "Just walk over there and kiss him senseless."

"I couldn't," I said.

"Why not? He's your husband. Isn't he?"

"N—I mean, yes," I said, catching myself. "Of course. But you know, Finn's free to do what he wants."

"Seemed to me like he wants you," she said.

"I wish," I mumbled.

"Want some advice?"

"Sure."

"Open your eyes, or you'll miss what's right in front of you," she said.

"Sounds like something my yaya would say." I turned to her with a smile. "She's the smartest person I know."

A sage nod was the only response.

"It was fun talking to you. So, you're a romance writer?"

Her smile grew. "I am."

"Would I know any of your books?"

"Perhaps. I'm fairly well-known in some circles. Good to meet you, Liv."

"It's Rose," I said, giving her a small shrug. "I use a pen name."

"The good ones often do," she said with a wink. "Thanks for talking to me. I'll let you and your man have some time alone."

Finn joined me as she walked away.

"Did you ever get her name?" he asked.

My brow scrunched. "No. Damn, I wanted to look up her books."

"Maybe you'll run into her again."

"Maybe," I said then faced him fully, crossing my arms. "Looks like you were a big hit with the romance writers."

Finn lifted a brow.

"They seemed to like touching you, running their hands through your hair."

No response.

"I haven't even gotten a chance to do that yet," I said ruefully.

"You sound a little jealous," Finn said.

I shot him a glare. "And you sound happy about it."

"Oh, I am."

I opened my mouth to respond—then closed it immediately as Finn put the drinks on a nearby table and took my hand.

Entwining our fingers, he bent his head then combed our joined hands through his light brown locks.

He let my hand go, leaving it there, and looked up at me from beneath his lashes.

I let my hand drift through the soft, silky strands down to his neck, and Finn swallowed.

"I'm very happy about that," he said gruffly.

Finn lifted my other hand and placed another kiss on my ring finger, something I was starting to love if I was being honest, then while holding my gaze, he flipped my palm over and kissed the inside of my wrist.

My lips parted.

He followed it up with a quick lick, a light suck.

My thighs clenched in response.

"Still feeling jealous?" he murmured against my skin.

"Not so much," I said breathlessly.

"Good." Finn looked far too satisfied with himself. "Because I'd rather have your hands on me."

My brain stuttered. "What?"

His shrug was the physical equivalent of I-said-what-I-said.

"You want to hear something crazy? The nice-woman-whose-name-I-didn't-get told me to go over there and break things up by kissing you."