Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I was not the kind of guy who had fancy London brunch with a supermodel boyfriend.
Husband.
“I can’t feel my legs,” I said almost too softly for my own ears to pick it up.
“You’re doing fine,” Landry murmured, tightening his grip on my hand. “It’s only two blocks away.”
“They probably think I’m mute.”
“I can assure them you are not,” he said in a particular tone. I glanced up at him and noticed his plastered-on smile didn’t meet his eyes.
“You’re still angry.”
He turned his unsmiling eyes on me and grinned wider. “Darling, I could never be angry with you.”
And then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips.
I stared at him as he pulled away to continue walking. I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed.
“For what, sweetheart?”
My eyes stung, and I tried to think of something else, something besides hurting the one man in the world who loved me unconditionally.
“Did you know that Excel will let you undo up to one hundred actions?” I asked.
Landry’s smile wavered. “Excel… the spreadsheet software?”
I looked off to the side, taking care to continue smiling even though I worried the gesture wouldn’t be good at containing vomit. “It also has over five hundred built-in functions, including one for gamma distribution, which I’ve never really understood. But there’s also the Unique function, which quickly deduplicates lists and helps with things like RSVPs. That one I use often.”
“What are you… Kenj. Look at me.”
I turned reluctantly to face him, taking great care to look at the place where his red spot had been carefully covered with concealer. His mouth was still smiling playfully, but his eyes showed concern.
“I’m making conversation,” I explained softly with my smile in place.
“You’re scaring me,” he grumbled, turning away and continuing our progress. Thankfully, the security personnel Nan had arranged for us were keeping the reporters far enough away from us not to hear our conversation. “I forgot spreadsheets were your security blanket. Continue. Maybe you can explain why every time I change a cell’s format to currency, it automatically shifts everything to one side.”
I happily explained the importance of aligning the decimal point in a currency column, and by the time we reached the restaurant, I probably looked as happy as a clam, even though my heart still felt like it was being squeezed in a giant vise.
We took a seat at a small table for two by the window. Everything had clearly been arranged ahead of time, and I was grateful the paparazzi wasn’t allowed inside.
“Thank fuck,” I muttered, exhaling and perusing the menu. “Think I’m allowed a hot chocolate?”
“No whipped cream unless you want an adorable spot on your nose I can kiss off,” he said blandly into the menu.
I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked up at me.
“I’m sorry I messed up your plans,” I said. “I’m sorry I blurted out the marriage thing and I’m…” I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I’m having trouble—”
“Welcome to Drunch. What can I start you with? Coffee?”
Landry turned on the charm like I’d seen him do a million times. “Hello! I’ll take some coffee, but my husband here would like hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, please.”
I blinked at him and opened my mouth to correct him but felt the warning squeeze of his hand. I clamped my mouth closed after murmuring my thanks.
Once she was gone, Landry glanced back at me. “You’re having trouble…?”
I felt the eyes of the media on us through the window. This wasn’t the time to explain that I was having trouble sleeping. Having trouble breaking the habit of holding him at arm’s length. Having trouble not throwing myself into his arms and begging him to build a life with me for real.
The weight of everyone’s expectations pressed down on me, and I remembered the purpose of this outing. We were supposed to be selling our romance.
I picked up Landry’s hand and pulled it to my lips, kissing each knuckle one by one without taking my eyes off his.
“I’m having trouble keeping my hands and mouth off of you,” I said with a teasing, flirty smile.
Landry’s eyes heated, but his smile didn’t return. I reached for his other hand and began doing the same.
Until I came to a warm gold band on his ring finger.
My stomach lurched with a silly, lightning-fast worry he’d somehow either gotten secretly married when I wasn’t looking or he’d been married all along. But then my brain kicked back in, and I shot him a look.
“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling his hands back to fumble in his pockets. “I have one for you, too.”
“Baby,” I said between my teeth, still fronting a smile as the server approached. “Tread lightly.”
He spoke at a normal volume as he pulled something out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. “I just got this back from the jeweler. Apparently, the delay was due to its age and historical significance.” He reached for my left hand and began sliding a ring onto my finger. “In the Victorian era, men wore wedding rings on their pinky fingers. Those would have probably fit your slender ring finger, but I didn’t like any of the ones in our family collection.”