My Fake Husband Black, L. (year 2 reading books TXT) 📖

why real weddings had rehearsals. I giggled nervously. Damon took my elbow, pulled me forward and over until I faced him. I passed my bouquet to Kiera, pausing only to lift it to my nose and bury my face in it for a moment, drinking in the sweet scent. Then I let Damon take my hands. I met his eyes, then looked away.

The judge said things and I agreed to them. When it came time for rings, I looked around, realized I hadn’t bought him one. Brody reached in his pocket and handed something to Damon. My cheeks flamed. I was mortified that he was doing so much for me, and I had neglected to make such a simple gesture for him. I met his eyes in a panic.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, and slid a ring on my finger, a narrow yellow gold band with a little diamond solitaire. I gasped at the diamond, at the sweetness of it. I blinked back unexpected tears. We finished the vows and it was time for the kiss to seal the ceremony.

I drifted closer to Damon, swayed a little on my feet, face tipped up to his. He bent and brushed his lips chastely to mine, polite, and stepped back. I felt dizzy, felt the electric buzz in my veins that the light, almost cursory caress had set loose in me. I had a wild impulse to fling my arms around his neck and pull him in for a real kiss. I even wondered frantically if we should consummate the marriage to make it legal. Then I recalled that was only for a green card, and probably a rom-com rule, not a real one. So I shouldn’t toy with the idea of convincing him we should hook up just once.

Flummoxed by the kiss and my errant thoughts, I let myself be led away. We all rode together to my parents’ house. We were having a totally unnecessary wedding lunch. My mom and Mrs. Vance had gotten frozen croissants and made chicken salad sandwiches, fruit salad, and a little two-layer white cake that made me want to burst into tears. It was so sweet of them, and they’d made it nice and elegant in the best way they knew how. There were white candles on the table and a dozen roses from the grocery store. I had a death grip on Damon’s fingers as we walked inside and saw it, the white lace tablecloth that used to be my grandmother’s, and the pretty china with pink flowers around the rim from my parents’ wedding. I swallowed hard.

“Oh, Mom, it’s so pretty. It’s perfect,” I whispered, my voice watery as I hugged her.

We sat down and ate, and Damon leaned in, “I like your dress. Is purple your favorite color?”

“No, it’s yours,” I said simply. He grinned at me.

“I love the ring. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to. I don’t ever want you to think your first husband didn’t care, or for your next groom to think he can get away without giving you a nice ring.”

“So you want bragging rights over my imaginary future husband?”

“Basically, yeah,” he said. I leaned my cheek against his shoulder for an instant, feeling something perilously close to affection for him.

My mom took a picture as we cut the cake together, making us pose. I told her it wasn’t a real marriage, but she would have none of it and kept saying what a beautiful couple we made. When we left, we went to Damon’s house. We’d agreed I’d live there for the time being, and he was putting my name on the deed. That way it was legitimately mine to use for collateral. Still, when it came time to walk into his house, I was suddenly nervous.

Damon, who I half expected to pick me up and carry me over the threshold as a joke, just unlocked the door and led me inside. The old house had been redone, the original wood floors refinished to a warm walnut color. The golden glow of a brass lamp on the table illuminated a stack of library books beside it and his blue couch. A flat-screen hung on the wall over a fireplace. He showed me to the guest room.

“You can have this room. Do whatever you want to it to make it comfortable for you. Welcome home, Trix.” I smiled at his use of the nickname and although I wanted to hug him, it felt awkward and impossible.

“Thanks. I’ll go around to my house and pick up some of my stuff tomorrow. My parents will let me store the rest in their garage so I can rent the place out for a few months. If you need me out before then, I could stay with my folks. It’s just, if I’m not using the house, the rent would cover the mortgage payment,” I said.

“It’s a good idea. Relax. I don’t need you out of here.”

“Okay, thank you. Um, good night,” I faltered.

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Night,” and headed down the hall. I shut the door and set down the overnight bag I’d brought with me. I wanted to put on my pink pajamas and curl up and sleep. I didn’t even want a shower. I felt weird showering in the room right next to his bedroom. It was a one-bathroom house. What if he had to pee? I could not cope with him being in the bathroom while I showered. I just couldn’t. I’d put on the new jammies and stay in my room tonight. Then tomorrow we could work out a schedule for the bathroom.

I kicked off my shoes, sinking my bare toes into the soft carpet. Then I took the clip and pins out of my hair, feeling relief at the looseness at my scalp when my hair fell across my shoulders. I reached back and unzipped my dress part of the way before it got hung up. I tried to slide it back up