Page 4 of The Temporary Wife

Colby

I spent the day at the Hendersons’ job site, installing custom kitchen cabinets and trying not to check my phone every five minutes.

The oak panels required precise measurements and careful handling, but my mind kept drifting to Gianna’s face when she’d said she needed time to think.

The hope that had flickered there, quickly smothered by caution.

By six o’clock, I’d finished the installation and cleaned up the workspace twice.

My crew had already headed home, but I stayed behind, adjusting hinges that didn’t need adjusting and polishing hardware that already gleamed.

Anything to avoid going home and waiting for an answer that might change everything.

My phone buzzed with a text from Kay Redman:

Luca’s helping with dinner. Pick him up whenever you’re ready.

I typed back my thanks and packed up my tools.

The October air carried the scent of woodsmoke and dying leaves as I loaded my truck.

Millbrook looked postcard perfect in the golden hour light, all painted Victorian houses and maple trees blazing orange and red.

This was the life I wanted for my son. Small- town safety, neighbors who looked out for each other, a place where everyone knew his name.

Lyla had never understood the appeal. She’d complained constantly about the lack of shopping, restaurants, nightlife.

She’d wanted to move to Portland or Boston, somewhere with more opportunities and fewer questions about our increasingly cold marriage.

I’d refused, and she’d resented me for it right up until the day she left.

Kay’s house smelled like pot roast and fresh bread when I knocked on the front door. Through the window, I could see Luca at the kitchen table with her grandson Marcus, both boys bent over homework with identical expressions of concentration.

“Come in, come in,” Kay called, appearing with flour on her apron and a knowing smile. “Luca’s been an angel. Set the table without being asked and helped Marcus with his math.”

“Thanks for taking him on such short notice.”

“Nonsense.” She waved off my apology. “That boy is welcome here anytime. You look stressed, honey. Everything alright?”

Of course she’d noticed. In a town of three thousand people, it was impossible to hide when something was wrong. But I wasn’t ready to explain the situation to anyone yet.

“Just work stuff,” I said vaguely.

Kay gave me a look that suggested she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t press. “Well, whatever it is, that little boy thinks the world of you. He spent most of the afternoon telling Marcus about the birdhouse you two built last weekend.”

While Luca gathered his backpack, Kay pulled me aside. “How are you holding up, honey? Really?”

The genuine concern in her voice almost undid me. Kay had been like a surrogate grandmother to Luca since Lyla walked out. She’d babysat during emergencies, attended every school play and soccer game, and never once made me feel like I was imposing.

“I’m managing,” I said carefully.

Luca bounded over with his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready, Dad?”

The drive home was filled with Luca’s chatter about school, his upcoming soccer game, and the Halloween costume he couldn’t decide between. Normal six-year-old concerns that made my chest ache with how simple and innocent they were.

“Dad?” Luca’s voice turned thoughtful as we pulled into our driveway. “Marcus said his parents argue a lot. Do you think they’re sad?”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. Trust Luca to pick up on adult problems even when the adults tried to hide them. “Sometimes grown-ups disagree about things, buddy. That doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

“Oh. Good.” He seemed satisfied with this explanation. “Can we have hamburgers for dinner? With the buns that have seeds on top?”

“Sure thing.”

We were halfway through dinner when the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. Too late for deliveries, too early for emergencies, but right on time for Gianna.

She stood on my front porch, clutching a bottle of wine and looking nervous. She’d changed from her work clothes into dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater that made her hazel eyes look more green than brown. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she’d chewed off most of her lipstick.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Miss G!” Luca squeezed past me to hug her waist. “Did you come for dinner? We’re having cheeseburgers.”

She smiled down at him, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “I ate already, sweetheart. But thank you.”

“You can have dessert with us. Dad said we could have ice cream if I finished all my carrot sticks.”

“Did you finish them?”

Luca’s grin turned sheepish. “Almost. There’s one stick left, but it looks weird.” He held his hand up and curved his index finger into a half-arch shape.

Gianna laughed. A real laugh that made my chest warm despite the circumstances. “Well, we can’t have weird vegetables. Why don’t you go deal with that carrot while I talk to your dad?”

He scampered back to the kitchen, leaving us alone on the porch. The October evening was crisp enough to see our breath, and Gianna pulled her sweater tighter around herself.

“Want to come in?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet. I need to say this first, before I lose my nerve.”

My stomach dropped. She was going to say no. I could see it in the way she held herself, the careful distance she maintained between us. I’d asked too much, pushed too hard, and now I was going to lose my best friend along with my son.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the marriage, all of it.” She took a shaky breath. “You’re right that we already act like a family most of the time. Luca does spend more time with me than with most babysitters, even with his own mother. And I do love him like he’s my own.”

Hope flickered in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral. She wasn’t done yet.

“But I need you to understand what this would mean for me. What I’d be risking.”

“Tell me.”

“My heart.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

“I’d be risking my heart, Colby. Because playing house with you and Luca, pretending to be your wife, sharing your bed .

. .” She stopped, color flooding her cheeks.

“It’s going to feel real. And when it’s over, when you don’t need me anymore, I’ll have to find a way to go back to being just your friend. I’m not sure I can do that.”

The confession hit me like a physical blow.

Not because I was surprised—deep down, I’d always known there was something more between us—but because hearing her say it out loud made me realize how selfish I’d been.

I’d been so focused on my own desperation that I hadn’t considered what this arrangement might cost her.

“Gianna.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo. “I never wanted to hurt you. If you can’t do this, if it’s asking too much?—”

“I’m not done.” She looked up at me, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’d be risking my heart, yes. But Luca would be risking his whole world. His home, his friends, his father who loves him more than anything. When I think about it that way, the choice is easy.”

My heart stopped. “You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.” She managed a watery smile. “I’ll marry you, Colby Marshall. For Luca. For as long as you need me to.”

The relief hit me so hard it left me lightheaded.

I reached for her without thinking, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight against my chest. She felt perfect there, like she’d been designed to fit against me.

Her hair smelled like flowers and rain, and when she wrapped her arms around my waist, I felt something settle into place that I hadn’t even realized was broken.

“Thank you,” I whispered against her hair. “God, Gianna, thank you.”

We held each other for a long moment on my front porch, two people about to embark on the biggest lie of their lives. But it didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like coming home.

“Dad! Miss G!” Luca’s voice carried through the screen door. “I ate the weird carrot! Can we have ice cream now?”

Gianna pulled back, laughing despite the tears on her cheeks. “We should go in. He’ll want to celebrate his victory over the crooked carrot.”

I caught her hand before she could step away. “We need to talk about the details. How we’re going to do this, what we tell people, when?—”

“Tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Tonight let’s just be normal. Let’s eat ice cream with your son and watch whatever cartoon he picks, and pretend this is just another evening.”

She was right. One more normal evening before everything changed forever.

We spent the next hour on the living room couch, Luca curled between us as we watched a movie about talking cars.

Gianna laughed at all the right moments and made appropriate comments about the plot, but I caught her watching me instead of the screen more than once.

I wondered what she was thinking, what doubts were already creeping in.

When Luca’s eyelids started drooping, I carried him upstairs for his bath and bedtime routine.

He was asleep before I finished reading the second chapter of his current favorite book, one hand clutching his stuffed elephant and the other stretched toward the empty side of the bed where I sometimes slept when he had nightmares.

Gianna was washing our ice cream bowls when I came back downstairs. She’d kicked off her shoes and rolled up her sleeves, looking comfortable and familiar in my kitchen. Like she belonged there.

“He go down okay?” she asked without turning around.

“Out cold.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Now that we were alone, the weight of what we’d agreed to was settling between us.

“So,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Ground rules?”

“Probably a good idea.” She dried her hands on a dish towel and faced me. “How do we make this believable?”

“We’ll need to make it legal first. Get a marriage license, find someone to perform the ceremony. Small and private. We can say we didn’t want a big fuss.”

“People will think it’s sudden.”

“People already think we’re together half the time anyway. Cory practically told me I was an idiot for not making a move already when we had our guys night.”

Gianna’s eyebrows rose. “He said that?”

“More or less.” I studied her face, looking for any sign that Cory might have been right about Gianna’s feelings. I figured if anyone would know, it would be Cory since his wife Summer and Gianna were friends.

“Is that what people think? That we’re together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I shrugged.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking vulnerable.

“Does it matter what people think?” I asked.

When she didn’t answer I continued. “It might make this easier. Less explaining to do.” The practical answer, not the one my heart wanted to give.

The truth was that part of me had always wondered what it would be like if we were together for real.

But this wasn’t about us. It was about Luca, about keeping my family intact.

I couldn’t afford to complicate things by admitting I’d spent the last three years fighting an attraction to my best friend.

“Where will I sleep?” The question came out quietly, almost timidly.

Heat pooled in my stomach. “There’s a guest room. You can have your privacy.”

“But if we’re supposed to be married . . .”

“We’ll figure it out. Make it look convincing when it matters, keep things separate when it doesn’t.”

She nodded, but something flickered across her face too quickly for me to read. Disappointment? Relief? I couldn’t tell.

“What about Luca? What do we tell him?”

This was the part that made my chest ache. “Well tell him the same we’ll tell everyone else. We’re married.”

“And after when we’re not?”

After. The word hung between us like a sword waiting to fall. After we’d convinced everyone we were the perfect couple, after we’d built a life together that would have to be carefully dismantled.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said.

It was a cop-out, and we both knew it. But the alternative—planning the end of something that hadn’t even begun—felt impossible in that moment.

Gianna picked up her purse and keys from the counter. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Stay.” The word slipped out before I could stop it. “I mean, if you want. The guest room bed is already made up.”

She hesitated, keys dangling from her fingers. “Colby . . .”

“It would be good practice. For when we’re living together officially.”

A weak excuse, but she seemed to consider it. Finally, she set her keys back down. “Okay. But I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

“I’ll find you something.”

Ten minutes later, she emerged from the guest bathroom wearing one of my old college t-shirts and a pair of my pajama pants rolled up at the ankles.

The shirt hung loose on her smaller frame, and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail.

She looked young and soft and beautiful in a way that made my chest tight.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For letting me stay. This is all going to take some getting used to.”

“Yeah, it is.”

We stood there in the hallway, suddenly awkward with each other in a way we’d never been before. Three years of easy friendship, and now we couldn’t seem to find our footing.

“Goodnight, Colby.”

“Goodnight.”

I watched her disappear into the guest room before heading to my own bedroom. But sleep was impossible. I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the woman sleeping twenty feet away. My soon-to-be wife. The mother Luca had been wishing for without even knowing it.

In three days, we’d go to the courthouse and make it official. In three months, we’d stand before a judge and prove that we were the stable, loving family Luca deserved.

And somewhere in between, I’d have to figure out how to keep my own heart intact when this was all over.