Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

She sucked in a breath. “You do? But…”

“But what?”

“I have no idea what I was going to say. I’m freaking out.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“I think it’s good,” she said. “Because I really, really like you, even if you are bossy and picky.”

That made me laugh softly. She was perfect for me, because she would never let my ego run rampant. “You’re impulsive and irresponsible with legal contracts, and I still really, really like you.”

Leah looked like she was going to say something.

But I didn’t want to hear anything practical or any doubts or fears or concerns.

I didn’t want anything to shut down the possibility that we could work.

So I just lifted her up out of the water by the waist. “Lift your legs.”

She did, then her arms and screamed, “We’re doing it! We’re awesome!”

Then she shifted too far forward. I lost my balance and she went pitching forward. We collided and went under the water.

When we both reemerged, she was laughing and I was shaking my head.

“And this is why I didn’t want to do this on marble flooring.”

“Good call.” She bounced up and down. “Let’s get out. I’m wrinkling up.”

“That’s probably a good idea. We need to get ready for dinner.”

“Great. I can’t wait to tell your mom about our carnival-themed wedding. She’s going to hate it.” Leah pulled herself out of the pool and sat down, feet still in the water.

I put my hands on her knees and eased them apart so I could get closer to her. “I can’t wait,” I said. “For everything.” I kissed her.

Leah sighed in pleasure and gave me a mischievous look. “What if this is in the contract and I don’t know because I never read it? Like a ‘What’s real is fake and what’s fake is real’ mind-meld clause?”

I was the last person in the world who would include a “mind-meld” clause. “Read it and find out.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Besides, if it’s real, how can it be fake?”

For a second I thought she was going to say something snarky, but Leah just ran her fingers through my beard and stared up at me thoughtfully. “It can’t be fake.”

“No. It can’t.”

I was drinking more wine than I should.

But dinner with Grant’s family was surreal.

Grant saying he had feelings for me was surreal. I had been shocked when he’d said he wanted something real with me, but I’d been ecstatic because the crush developed over pancakes had morphed into a true, deep affection for Grant as I had gotten to know him.

I was in love with him. For real.

That was some seriously surreal, crazy, and probably totally insane stuff.

Staying in a mansion with an indoor pool was surreal.