Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
I probably would have asked him out myself. Unfortunately for me, Rachel and I were watching "Bring It On" when she casually said, "God, I can't imagine you dating River. It would be an absolute nightmare for me."
Back then, I laughed and agreed. Then went home and did a very efficient emotional job on myself of deciding it would never happen, which I have been doing ever since. River is 6'5" with gray eyes and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms and lots of bad boy vibes and everything Derek is not.
Just the perfect kind of guy you bring to make your ex jealous.
River lets out a sigh so deep, I can hear it all the way from here. He faces us fully and leans back against the counter, the stirring spoon still in his hand.
Not dripping, because he's already licked it. Disgusting, I know.
The gray eyes I was just thinking about are looking at me now. I look back because there is no graceful way not to, but God, I want to drown in those depths.
Something settles inside me that I am going to pretend I didn't notice. I have been pretending for so long that it has become second nature.
"I don't have anything better to do this weekend, or the next. Nothing more interesting than pretending to be someone's husband, for sure."
The delivery is completely even. Dry enough that I'm half a second behind the joke. Almost, and then I catch it.
The laugh that comes out is surprised. It cuts through everything. This is the fourth reason River would be perfect—because he's so funny, he always makes me forget my anxieties and dread.
"A-are you sure? I mean, I'm not above going back from the lie."
Rachel smacks my arm lightly. "And make Derek think he won? So he could shove it in your face that he's now married and you're still single?"
"River, are you sure? Like a hundred percent and not just because Rachel is giving you the stink eye, which means you might probably find yourself kicked out of your apartment if you say no?"
River just smirks. "I never liked that Derek guy. He looks at mirrors more than you do. Say yes, Nadine. Let's get this son of a bitch."
His confidence is infectious, so I jab the spoon at him. "You're on."
Rachel takes this as a cue to start planning, and when Rachel sets her mind on doing something, not even natural disasters can stop her.
She has taken it upon herself to make sure the lie is bulletproof, so she grabs a notepad and starts scribbling several things—wedding rings, backstory, and whether River owns a suit. She's got this
River serves the roasted garlic soup he's been making, along with some freshly baked bread. Reason number five why River is perfect. With him, I'll never go hungry.
"I have a suit."
"A good suit?"
"Define good."
"Does it fit you or are you talking about the one you bought at college graduation?"
"It fits. Mostly."
"Mostly."
Rachel and River may be twins, but they argue about pretty much anything and everything. Two sides of a coin and all that.
But on the other hand, something warm unfurls in my chest. These two are my ride or die. The kind of people who won't ask questions if I call them and tell them to bring a shovel and garbage bags.
And River? I'm half in love with him, whether I admit it to myself or not, so a weekend pretending he's my husband isn't just a disaster waiting to happen.
I know, down to my core, I won't walk away from this unscathed.
===
2
RIVER
Rachel texted me nonstop while we were in the air.
I know because my phone kept buzzing against my leg, and I kept not looking at it because Nadine was asleep against the window with her hair in her face.
I was working very hard on minding my own business. I am very good at minding my own business. I have been minding my own business, and I am extremely skilled at it, except for the forty minutes somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico when Nadine shifted in her sleep, and her head landed on my shoulder. Outside the window, clouds drift past like they've got nowhere to be. I imagine they are Rachel and, like her, keeping tabs on us.
With the blood rushing down south, I had to decide very quickly whether to wake her up or sit very still for the remaining flight time. I decided to sit still. The decision was stupid, but I made it anyway. Story of my fucking life.
The armrest between us exists. It's doing its best but still failing spectacularly. The wheels hit the tarmac, and Nadine's head jerks up. She blinks twice, looks at my shoulder, then at me, then away, wiping frantically at her mouth.
First of all, she didn't drool because she only drools after a very long day.