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body wash—a tropical fragrance that mixes flowers and fruit that instantly made me want a cocktail with an umbrella in it.

Or maybe I just want Waverly on a beach in a bikini, sipping a cocktail with an umbrella in it before I strip her naked and spank her ass for making me want her.

Fuck, I’m so far in over my head here.

I’m fucking attracted to my wife—a woman that I’ve spent years pissing off every chance I got because I loved watching the fire burn from her eyes when she looked at me. Making Waverly furious was a hobby of mine that I took indescribable pride in, loving to see how far I could push her until there was smoke coming out of her ears.

Maybe in some sick way, making her angry was like a twisted form of foreplay, a reality that set in as soon as I told her I wanted to spank her a few weeks ago. The thought slipped, but she fucking asked for it as we faced off, riling each other up when we fought over open drawers and pen caps.

Dear Lord, is this what marriage is like? Being annoyed by someone so much that you feel like screaming, but then also craving the person’s presence when they’re not around? Because that’s exactly what has been going on for the past month, and I can’t fucking wrap my brain around it.

But here’s what I’ve realized—I need to get back to that place, where driving her mad and making her hate me is my goal—because if I let this shift in my feelings toward her grow, the next four and a half months will not end the way we planned. We agreed that our lives would move on after this was over, and that’s how it needs to stay. This is only a pause in the life I want to live—CEO of Weston Investments, a job that I’ve worked tirelessly to earn.

However, the fact that I’m currently standing on the front steps of my parents’ home with my wife next to me is forcing me to remember that my parents are expecting to see the shift in my demeanor and my priorities that my whirlwind marriage has provoked. Time to put on a smile, dote on my wife, and play the part—although the acting is getting less difficult to push through.

“Are you sure I look alright?” Waverly glances up at me, worry etched in every line of her face.

You look gorgeous; I want to say. And she does. But that’s the type of shit I’m better off keeping to myself. “You look great. It’s just my parents.”

“Ha. Okay.” She fluffs her hair and straightens her spine. “Aren’t these the same parents that are supposed to believe we’re hopelessly in love with each other?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And didn’t you say your father looked suspicious of our speedy romance when you told him?”

“Uh, huh.”

“And your mom looked like she was about to cry when she realized you got married and she wasn’t there?”

I nod, suddenly feeling like my throat is about to close up.

“So why aren’t you more freaked out about this? We have to make them believe this is real, and I’d really prefer if your parents didn’t hate me for what happened.”

“They don’t hate you,” I say before turning to her and grabbing her hand. Fuck, why did I do that? Her skin is so soft.

“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure.”

“Just follow my lead. Try to make nice with my mom. Ask her about her book club. That will always keep her talking for a while, and then the focus won’t be on us.”

She nods while taking a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

“Agreed.”

I knock on the door, waiting for the sound of the lock turning on the other side. And when it does, my father and mother stand side by side—my mother’s smile so big, her cheeks must be burning, and my father, squinting down at me before directing his gaze to Waverly and offering her a soft smile.

Well, at least he’s smiling at her.

“Hayes! Waverly! I’m so glad you’re here!” my mother croons as we step inside the house and take off our coats. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Oh, did I forget to mention we’re spending Valentine’s Day with my parents? Yeah, that’s happening. But I mean, it’s not like we’d otherwise be at home fucking each other’s brains out or doing something romantic like most real couples would be, right?

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Weston. It’s so good to see you.” Waverly moves in to give both of my parents a hug and then stares back up at me.

“Hey, Mom. Dad.”

“Hayes,” my father returns, his skepticism still blatant.

“Come in, come in,” my mother continues, glaring at my father before wrapping her arm around Waverly’s shoulders and directing us to follow her into the kitchen. A plate of bacon-wrapped shrimp is resting on the kitchen counter, the smell hitting my nose the second they’re in my line of sight.

“I made a few appetizers before dinner. Please help yourself.” She gestures to the plate of shrimp and the potstickers sprinkled with sesame seeds.

“This looks delicious,” Waverly says, reaching for a shrimp with a toothpick and blowing on it a few times since there’s still steam coming off of it. “Thank you so much for having us.”

“Nonsense. It’s about time you two had come over for dinner. I’m just so excited to finally see you after the wedding.” My mother’s face has a glimmer of hurt still, but I can sense the satisfaction of seeing Waverly here finally as well.

“Yes. It’s about time we met your wife, isn’t it?” my dad adds.

“Well, we’ve been busy and adjusting to married life, as you probably know.” Waverly smiles up at me and winks. “I thought I knew this man, and then we started living together. Boy, how wrong was I.”

My mother laughs as my dad’s lips finally tip up in a slight grin. Damn, Waverly is good.

“Oh, believe me, that never stops.

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