My Fake Husband: A Secret Baby Romance (Rockford Falls 2)

“You’re right, but I also don’t want to lie to her. She means too much to me.”

“Lead with that. It sounds sincere.”

“It is sincere. I’m not trying to sound sincere, I am being.”

“Don’t ignore this advice. Tell her you have feelings for her and be totally serious. No sarcasm. No trying to lighten the mood. Don’t mention anything that doesn’t show her in the best light. She’s an angel. Okay?”

“Right. Angel,” I said, a half-smile sneaking in.

“If you want her, don’t give up.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to lose her,” I said. “Let’s go. I need to get home.”

All the way to my house, I blasted old country music, which was mostly depressing and about broken hearts. All those sad cowboys who’d lost their true love forever were enough to underline the fact that I didn’t want to lose my wife.

I unlocked the front door, half of me hoping she’d run into my arms like she did the other night. That had been probably the best moment of my adult life. I’d survived a fire, saved a man, got the girl. That was when the credits should have rolled, Hollywood style. The lamp beside the couch was on, and when I closed the door behind me, I looked around for Trixie.

There she was, asleep on the couch. She had her phone on her chest, her head tipped to the side, like she’d nodded off while reading something. She had a blanket drawn over her lap, her work clothes still on. She’d been putting in long hours, hours without me. I wanted to spend more time with her, watch more trilogies of declining quality like Back to the Future and the Karate Kids we’d binged one Sunday afternoon. I wanted more of her in my life, in my arms.

I’d told her weeks ago she was prettier than the flowers in her shop. That hadn’t been nearly the truth. She was prettier than anything I’d ever seen, from the sweep of dark lashes across her cheeks to the droop of her bottom lip as she slept. I felt the heavy tug of desire for her, but I forced it away. This was not just desire, though. It was tenderness, affection. I brushed her cheek with the backs of my fingers lightly, thinking how much I liked having her here and coming home to her. This girl, the one I was just helping out, had somehow made a place in my life for herself until she took up so much room I couldn’t imagine my home without her in it or my weekends without her, my random Thursday nights—nothing would be any good anymore without Trixie in my life the way she was now or even closer.

For now, she was exhausted, and I could tuck her into bed. I heaved a heavy sigh. I wanted to take her to my bed, hold her while she slept. But I knew that would make her uncomfortable when she woke up there, wondering how she got there or what we’d done that she didn’t remember. So I did the grown man thing to do. I picked her up, blanket and all, and carried her to her own room, to her own bed, and lay her down carefully so I didn’t disturb her sleep. Sure, I wanted her to wake up, find me carrying her, and be so overwhelmed with the romance that she wound her arms around my neck and kissed me.

It seemed like I was obsessed with a Hollywood ending.

But she stayed stubbornly asleep, her head lolling onto the pillow without so much as a murmur. I took the phone from her hand and plugged it into her charger by the bed. I knelt beside the bed and looked at her for a moment, studying her pretty face while she was relaxed.

“How did I miss seeing you sooner?” I whispered, barely above a breath, “when you were always this person, the only one I’d want to be with.” I pressed a kiss on her forehead softly, barely brushing her warm skin with my lips. “It’s a good thing you’re asleep. I would’ve had to tell you I think I love you,” I whispered, a fond and rueful smile taking up residence on my face. It made me feel good that I was the one who got to tuck her into bed when she was completely wiped out. I even drew the blanket down to cover her feet, switched off her lamp and left her in peace.

Dream of this, I willed her silently, dream of me putting you to bed as tenderly as a lover, protective and devoted.

15

Trixie

I woke up in my bed, covered with the blanket from the couch. I looked around, not remembering how I got there. Frantically, I glanced beside me to see if he had gotten into bed with me, if there was a naked man beside me. I was alone, and breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe I was a tiny bit disappointed not to find Damon naked in my bed, but I was relieved to find he was still such a gentleman, that he hadn’t intruded without my agreement. In fact, I felt—heart-warmed, if that’s even a word. To think he’d probably carried me to bed, to my bed, with no design other than to make sure I was comfortable. I looked over to check the time, and saw my phone on the bedside table. It was plugged in. I smiled, but it was almost a teary smile, knowing how thoughtful that was of him to charge my phone for me. It was 7:20—I had obviously forgotten to set my alarm. When I set the phone back down, I found a piece of paper I didn’t remember putting there. I picked it up, saw that it was folded in half, Trix written on the outside of it.