Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Your jokes are always funny to me.”
“And now I don’t have to wonder if you’re going to come back the next day. You’ll just be here.”
The innocent observation pierced straight through my chest. How many mornings had he woken up hoping to find his world unchanged, only to discover another person had left? His mother had walked away from him. Even babysitters changed with Colby’s work schedule.
“I’ll be here,” I promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “For as long as you want me to be.”
He was asleep before I finished the story, one small hand curled around my wrist like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. I sat there for a long time, watching him breathe and marveling at how completely my life had changed in the span of a single day.
When I finally crept downstairs, I found Colby in the kitchen loading the dishwasher. He’d changed into a gray t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and emphasized the strength in his arms. Domestic Colby had always been dangerous to my peace of mind, but married Colby was going to be the death of me.
“He go down okay?” he asked without looking up.
“Like a light. He’s exhausted.” I pushed my hands into the soap water and handed Colby another dish. “He asked to call me mom.”
Colby paused; his hand suspended in the air. Slowly, I looked at him, unsure what to expectant.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything but nodded because I had this giant lump clogging my throat. You know he’s slipped up a few times before, and I guess I should’ve asked you—”
“You don’t need to ask me,” he said. “You’re here more than Lyla is. I’ve said it time and again, Luca loves you and if he wants to call you mom, let him. As long as you’re okay with it.”
I was, but then . . .
“Yeah.” I leaned against the counter, suddenly unsure of my place in this space that was now supposedly mine. “We should talk about the sleeping arrangements . . .” I needed to change the subject, although I should’ve chosen something like the parking arrangement outside or whether he needed me to pick Luca up from school tomorrow.
He closed the dishwasher and turned to face me. “I know we need to talk about the practical stuff. Ground rules, expectations, how we make this work.”
“How do we make this believable?”
“We’ll need to act like a married couple when it matters. In public, around Luca, if anyone asks questions.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking as uncertain as I felt. “But in private, we can maintain whatever boundaries make you comfortable.”
“What about sharing a bedroom? Luca will expect—”
“Only if you’re okay with it. Everything else, we’ll figure out on the fly as long as we look convincing when it needs to be, keep things separate when it doesn’t.”
I nodded, but something twisted in my chest at how easily he compartmentalized it. Of course, he could separate the performance from reality. This wasn’t about feelings for him. This was about custody and stability and legal strategy.
“I should probably get some sleep,” I said finally. “Tomorrow’s going to be another adjustment day.”
Colby nodded and followed me upstairs. I thought about his bedroom, the masculine space that would now technically be ours. The walk-in closet and king-sized bed he’d built custom, and the deep garden tub he’d installed after he and Lyla bought the house.
We stood in his . . . our room, staring at nothing, yet everything.
“We’re both adults. We can share a room without it meaning anything.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but he nodded like it made perfect sense.
“I’ll take the left side. I’m used to sleeping there.”
“Fine.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Good to know.”
“Do you?”
“Not that anyone’s ever complained about.”
The awkward conversation felt surreal. Planning sleeping arrangements with the man I’d married that morning, the man I’d been in love with for years, the man who saw me as a convenient solution to his custody problems.
“Okay, I have a few things to finish up in the workshop and then I’ll be up.”
I could feel the silence of the room weighing on me heavily, making my skin crawl, but not with fear. It was anxiety. A nervousness I had never experienced before. I’d fallen asleep on Colby’s couch too many times to count. We both have. But this was different.
Ten minutes later, I emerged from the attached bathroom wearing one of my most conservative pajama sets and clutching my phone like a lifeline. The room suddenly felt huge, overwhelming, and oddly intimate. Colby’s presence filled the void even though he was still downstairs.
When he finally came up, he moved quietly through his nighttime routine, and I kept my eyes fixed on my phone screen while he changed into pajama pants and a worn t-shirt. The mattress dipped when he climbed into bed, and suddenly the king-size bed felt impossibly small.