Possessive Fake Husband

And yet we’re trying anyway. I think that’s what I like so much about him. Even though it’s not very likely, he’s still going to give it his best and try. He doesn’t have to, he could just let the company get bought up by a larger player. He’d probably make a lot more money in the long run that way.

But he can’t do it. Maybe that’s pride, maybe that’s something else. Either way, I admire him more than I realized.

We hit seventy, eighty, ninety. After one hundred, we take another break. The sun’s sinking down and I think I might cry from exhaustion.

“Twenty-two,” he says, sitting down next to me.

“Is that how old you were when you lost your virginity?” I ask.

He grins at me. “Yeah, right. No, we have twenty-two more cars.”

I blink. “Really?”

“Really. Which means…”

“There are 122 total cars in this god-forsaken place.”

“Right. Can you imagine how much money’s in here?”

“I can’t. And I really don’t care.”

He laughs. “Go home. I’ll finish the last ones.”

I frown and cock my head. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I mean it. Go home, take a bath. Then start dinner.”

I sigh. “You’re not being altruistic. You just want me to cook for you.”

“Well, yes, and no. You’re not a good cook.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I can tell.”

“I should be offended.”

He leans closer, eyes playful. “Am I wrong?”

I glare at him. “No.”

“Exactly. But cook for me anyway.”

“Fine.” I push myself to my feet. “That’s a fair exchange.”

He laughs. “I’ll probably need another hour, maybe two. So take your time.”

“I’ll call an Uber, so you can have the car.”

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure. I’ll have dinner on the table when you get home, sweetie.”

He winks and blows a kiss. “You’re a doll.”

I linger there for a moment as he gets to his feet. He’s just as tired as I am, but I can tell he’s doing this just to give me a break. And really, I appreciate him for it. I can barely lift my arms and the idea of washing another twenty-two cars makes me want to die.

So I head back to the main entrance. I call for an Uber on my way and hang out in the parking lot while I wait.

I keep thinking about his body as he cleaned, about his face when he talked about keeping the company alive. This is about much more than just money to him.

This is pride. This is family. This is all about being the best man he can possible be, and really, I can appreciate that more than anything.

I’m tempted to go back and finish helping… but heck, I’m tired. So when my Uber pulls up, I get in, and I let it take me back to our little house.

And once I’m there, I pick out ingredients and start on dinner.

At the very least, I’ll make sure my man’s well fed.10JoshThe next morning, I wake up early, make coffee, and sit in the kitchen staring at the wall for a long time.

I’m drained. Cleaning 122 cars isn’t fun, not even remotely fun at all. But we did it, despite the struggling, despite the insanity.

I make some breakfast, and as I’m clearing the dishes, I get an email from Rupert Guava’s assistant, just a little note from the man himself. Cars look good. I’m on board. Good luck. RG

That’s a heavy relief. I’m tempted to go wake Maggie up to tell her we got Guava’s backing, but decide to let her sleep. She looked exhausted when I got home, like cooking dinner was as hard as cleaning twenty-two more cars.

I head into the office and get myself set up. The workday goes like any other, and even though the company is on the precipice of failure at all times, the work never ends. The machinery still has to function no matter what.

Halfway through the afternoon, there’s a knock at my door, and Maeve steps into the room. She shuts the door behind her. “Well,” she says.

“Well,” I say. “How’s it going?”

“I heard about Rupert.” She walks over and sits down.

I frown at her. “What?”

“I heard about what you did.”

“How?”

She shrugs. “Assistants talk to each other.”

“Well, shit. Does everyone know now?”

“Pretty much.” She laughs. “You really cleaned every one of his cars?”

“I really did. A few of them looked like they’d never been washed.”

“I bet. How many were there? I hear it was like five hundred.”

“One hundred and twenty-two,” I say. “And I swear, I’m never washing another car again.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but it had to be done. I’m making this deal happen, Maeve. No matter what I have to do.”

“That much is clear.” She frowns a little bit and settles back into her chair. “You know this is a bad thing though, right?”

I hesitate, head tilted to the side. “How? I got Rupert’s backing. That was important.”