Fake Wife

by Stacey Lynn

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything. And dinner sounds great.”

  “Bye.” I wave lamely, Corbin grinning and chuckling at my reaction.

  He leans over the bed and kisses my forehead. “Go back to sleep if you’re tired.”

  More sleep sounds good. So does getting out of his condo for the day. “I might call Caitlin.”

  He rolls his eyes and pulls back. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He kisses me again, sweet warm lips at my forehead, my nose, and down to my lips, where I take him slowly, eagerly, until he pulls back, cheeks flushed.

  I do that to him. The sexiest man in Portland three years running flushes at my kisses and caresses.

  Nothing is more beautiful than knowing it.

  When he’s gone, I don’t call Caitlin and I don’t do any of the things I said I was going to do. Instead, I curl into his sheets, surrounded by his scent, and close my eyes and go back to sleep.

  I dream of flower petals and waves crashing. I dream of families and friends. I dream of laughter and kisses, and when I wake again, I hope it’s prophetic.

  I want everything in my dreams to finally come true. It’s so close, and I have a man who loves me and wants to marry me.

  I only have to trust that this man’s love for me is real and lasting…unlike the last one, who threw it away.

  God. I should not be alone.

  Climbing out of the bed, I wash off my apathy with water so hot it needles my skin. After I’ve brushed my teeth and eaten a bagel and cream cheese and a small cup of oatmeal, I call Caitlin.

  Being alone is not a good idea for me today. If only I could place my finger on why.

  —

  I’m in the kitchen, scribbling down a grocery list for tonight. It’s the first dinner I’ve cooked for Corbin and I want it to be special. He loves me.

  I love him.

  Tonight, over scallop and bacon risotto, I plan on actually getting the words out. Who knows, perhaps once we lay our cards on the table, or at least I do, our wedding service will be real.

  Love at first sight, whirlwind wedding…my life has turned upside down and flip-flopped all over the place.

  And I’m sounding like a sap.

  I need Caitlin to get here quickly. We plan on running to the grocery store, and then she’s going to keep me company while I cook. I’m planning on her talking sense into me over a bottle of chardonnay.

  I scribble down another bottle of wine on my list, singing along and hips swiveling to the beat of Sam Hunt’s “Body Like a Back Road,” when a knock hits the door.

  I turn down the speaker on the Bluetooth stereo and dance to the door, assuming it’s Caitlin. Corbin has a key and the security desk would have called about anyone else.

  “What the hell?” I ask, still taking the time to peek through the peephole and see Franklin Lane standing outside the door.

  “Mr. Lane,” I say, opening the door. In one hand is my now crumpled grocery list. I step back and let him in. “This is a surprise.”

  “Miss Monroe.”

  My name on his lips is a sneer, one he can’t hide, although I doubt he’s trying very hard. And it’s really a shame the man is such scum, because he’s also really handsome. Lines are etched across his forehead and rim the outer edges of his eyes, but he has Corbin’s familiar jawline and cheekbones. A thick mess of slightly graying light brown hair, just a smattering that in a sick way makes me want to know what Corbin will look like when he’s in his fifties.

  Sexy as hell is what he’ll be. Especially if he ages like the man in front of me.

  “Corbin isn’t home.”

  “I know.” He lifts out a manila envelope. “I came to see you.”

  I take the envelope from him, barely touching it as if it’ll grow fangs and a poisonous tongue. I don’t trust this man, and my body is alert, shoulders pulled tight. Senses heighten, and I know what this is: fight or flight, as adrenaline surges in the face of a predator.

  The gleam in his eyes that are thankfully nothing like Corbin’s tells me I’m Franklin’s next intended victim. The envelope in my hand is his weapon.

  “What can I do for you, then?” I ask, turning and walking toward the kitchen. Perhaps it’s not wise to show your back to a man who wants to attack, but despite my spiking fear, I refuse to allow him to see it.

  “My son is being very erratic this week,” he says, following me. I hear the clink of change, and I look back, seeing his hand in his pocket. The man is tall and muscled, has kept in great shape, but I suppose fucking two women for most of your life will give you all the exercise you need.

  I scowl at him and toss the envelope onto the counter.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” I cross my arms and rest my hip on the counter, then uncross my arms. Too defensive.

  Be smart. Where the hell is Caitlin? She could handle this easily. I summon what little I know of her and relax my posture. Fake, easy smile. My mouth feels numb. Like it’s turned to rubber.

  God I suck at this.

  “He’s resigned, making mistakes he’ll regret someday. I predict in about two years from Labor Day weekend?”

  Blood drains from my face. It’s unavoidable. He knows. Of course he does. The man’s not an idiot.

  “Again, I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Lane. And I’m also not sure why you’re here—”

  He cuts me off with a slash of his hand through the air, silencing me with effectiveness I’ve not yet seen. I even know the man is a giant jerk and I still listen to him. “This is for you to sign,” he says, gesturing toward the envelope. “When my son comes to his senses, when he returns to follow a path he’s veering from for foolish reasons and an easy, albeit pretty, lay”—his gaze drops and scans my body. I want another hot shower—“I want to make sure he still has his future before him.”

  My phone buzzes on the counter. I can’t handle the man’s leering gaze or the glint in his eye. He knows something I don’t. He glances at my phone but I don’t take my eyes off him as he slides the envelope my way.

  The phone silences and Franklin picks up the envelope. “Don’t you want to see it? It’s not going to hurt you, it’s solely protecting Corbin.”

  “Why do you suddenly care about protecting him now?”

  His glare turns feral. “You know nothing,” he snaps, moving closer. His fingertips pound the packet and he shoves it in my direction. “You know nothing of my family, what I’ve done and will continue to do to protect the Lane name, and it will not be ruined by easy pussy that spreads her legs for money. I don’t know how much he’s given you for this ruse, but however else you’ve muddled his head with your sweet smiles and banging body, he will not be ruined when this is done.”

  Ironic, considering I’ve been the one fearing ruination.

  I stare at the envelope again and reach for it. If I listen to him, he’ll leave.

  I’m sliding a thick stack of papers out of the envelope and my phone dances and buzzes all over the counter. I pick it up when I see Corbin’s name.

  “Hello?” I say, my voice turning to ice and breaking on the word.

  In large, bold letters, the words PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT blare back at me like they’re shouting.

  “Teagan? You okay? It’s me.”

  I blink. Franklin is completely forgotten. “Yeah. What’s up?”

  He sounds like he’s smiling. “Listen, I’ve got someone coming by to deliver some papers for you. No big deal, it’s just wedding stuff. Will you be there to sign it?”

  Prenuptial. It’s common. So common. I shouldn’t be surprised. But his voice is weird. Excited. Like he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation, and why would this excite him? And why would Franklin be the one delivering it?

  “Teagan?”

  I shake my head. “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I run my fingertip over the bold letters. My heart breaking. Shatter
ing. I’m not even certain why my reaction is so visceral. The shock of it all? I flip through the papers and find pages marked with tabs. All of them already signed with Corbin Lane’s signature.

  My God. Why didn’t he at least bring this up first so I wasn’t so surprised? I don’t blame him. But after last night, it feels wrong. Like a betrayal. He loves me, but he doesn’t trust me?

  “Nothing. And yeah, I think it’s here already.”

  A gruff sound startles me and I look up. Franklin is still here, grinning a victory dance full of smugness and reading of pretentiousness.

  I hate this man.

  “And?”

  “And what?” I ask, mind going numb. My mouth isn’t only rubber, but my legs are. I grab the counter to stay standing.

  “Will you sign it, angel?”

  No doubt, no question in his voice, just hopefulness?

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. It’s gone dry. So much for not letting Franklin get to me. “Yeah, I’ll sign it, Corbin.”

  “Great. We’ll celebrate at dinner. I’ll be home by six, okay?”

  I think I respond. I’m sure I do, because Corbin hangs up with his deep voice rumbling that he can’t wait to see me.

  I set the phone on the counter and face Franklin. “Thank you for bringing this by. You can see yourself out.”

  “Have a great day, Miss Lane.”

  He turns and leaves, shocking me again without any more commentary on the state of how I spread my legs.

  And as soon as he’s gone, so am I. The prenuptial isn’t unusual. I’m certain it’s not.

  Our entire relationship is based on a contract, for crying out loud, but this feels like a betrayal as I look through it, the pages blurring.

  I see that there’s absolutely nothing mentioning our previous contract. Not a single sentence or line or anything about the money he’s promised to give me, the financial assistance to go to school. Within a whole stack of legal jargon I understand just enough to know what’s missing: There’s absolutely nothing written about the $250,000 he’s promised me.

  Only that when we divorce, I leave the marriage with nothing. Nothing. He has signed an agreement stating I will take nothing from him, from clothing or vehicles or any tangible items from the date of our marriage through the period of our marriage.

  He is fucking me over at the exact same time he’s thinking of fucking me later.

  And I can’t handle it.

  I crumble to the floor, prenuptial agreement spilling all over my lap, and sob.

  Another man who promises me the world only to rip it away when it no longer suits his purposes.

  I knew I should have protected my heart from him.

  I fling the ring off my finger and watch it bounce across the tiled floor until it slides onto the carpet.

  And that’s how Caitlin finds me, crying in a corner of the kitchen, crumpled into a ball, arms over my knees, head on my arms, bawling my eyes out because this hurts.

  And I am done falling for men, allowing them to hurt me.

  Chapter 25

  Corbin

  I stare at my phone as I set it on the table and look up. Trey is sitting across from me in the sports bar where we’re grabbing lunch after I stopped at the courthouse.

  The phone call with Teagan has left a thick, dirty taste in my mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Trey asks.

  “Nothing.” But something is. “She didn’t sound right.”

  “You probably surprised her. It’s not every day a woman gets a marriage certificate couriered to her front door.”

  Yeah. I rub my fingers across my forehead. “You’re probably right.”

  But something doesn’t feel right.

  Perhaps Teagan didn’t tell me she loves me last night, but I know she does. No one can feign the look in her eyes when I took her, like with one simple thrust of my cock into her cunt, she was also giving me her soul.

  “I should go check on her,” I say to Trey.

  “Don’t.” He gestures for another round of shots for us. Tequila this time. Awesome.

  “You didn’t hear her.” I toss a stack of bills to pay the check onto the table.

  “Settle. You’re acting like a teenager whose girl isn’t returning his first five texts. If anything, she’s nervous. I know I’d be pissing myself at the thought of marrying you. You threw her for a loop. Give her time to get used to it.”

  The sooner we get married the sooner all this shit settles in my rearview and the future is only Cannon Bluffs and Teagan. I had to make some calls and pull some strings for it to be valid since she wasn’t there to sign in person, but it helps sometimes to have the Lane name, and before I leave it all in the dust, I called in one last favor.

  I don’t even want to wait three more weeks to call her mine.

  I blow out a heavy breath and take the tequila shot when it arrives. “Fuck off, Trey.”

  He grins and clinks our glasses together. “There you go again, fascinated with my dick.”

  Asshole. It’s the same shit we’ve flung at each other since freshman year. But damn it, I wouldn’t be able to survive without this guy by my side.

  There’s really nothing that can fuck up this day. Teagan’s said she’ll sign the marriage certificate I sent to her. My trust is securely in my name. My father’s attempts at protesting Eleanor’s state of mind is a hassle my lawyers and I will have to deal with, but I know nothing will come of his blustering.

  It’s just me and my girl, and once I slide another ring on her finger, nothing can stop us from doing all the things we’ve dreamed of.

  I stay for one more round of drinks and then I switch to water so I can be sober when I get home and take Teagan into my arms. An hour later, I leave the bar and climb into my car, when my phone starts ringing.

  Assuming it’s Teagan, I answer the call without checking the ID.

  “Hey, angel.”

  “You son of a living asshole!” Caitlin shouts in my ear. “What the hell are you thinking?”

  My foot hesitates on the brake before I put the car in drive. “What the fuck, Caitlin?”

  “You…I can’t even talk to you. Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way home. Who pissed in your panties?” Good Lord. The girl is sometimes nutty, but she rarely freaks out like this.

  “You, you son of a bitch.”

  I inhale a calming breath, but it doesn’t settle the storm building in my chest, spreading to my gut. “Caitlin—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I mean, to send your dad here, of all people? That’s fucking rich, Corbin.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Caitlin. Calm down.”

  “I will not calm down!” She shouts so loudly I yank the phone from my ear. “She’s gone, you asshole! And you did it to her. Get your ass back here and find her and fix this!”

  I can see her seething glare as she ends the call and the phone goes silent. I’m only five minutes away from my condo, but I’m shaking.

  Gone. She. Fix it. My dad?

  It’s all a jumble in my head, roaring like thunder, and I don’t know what in the hell Caitlin’s problem is, but I know it’s Teagan, and somehow, something has gone horribly wrong.

  “Shit,” I growl, and slam my fist to the horn, blaring it like the asshole Caitlin’s just called me, and none of the people in front of me give a crap.

  The next few minutes slide by like I’m in quicksand. Multiple calls to Teagan’s phone go straight to voicemail.

  The sludge taste in my throat grows until it invades my senses, and by the time I reach my condo, I’m huffing like a man who’s just run a marathon.

  “Caitlin!” I shout, rushing into the kitchen. “Where the hell are you? And where’s Teagan?”

  She comes out of my office, sniffing, her eyes red rimmed with tears I know she’s already wiped away. But she’s still a fire-blazing redhead, green eyes glaring at me like she wants to be the match to set me on fire.

  In Caitlin
’s hand is an envelope, a stack of papers on top, and she thrusts it at me.

  “What in the hell is this? And why would you have your dad deliver it?”

  I take the papers from her. “My dad? Caitlin I have no…oh fuck.” The words Prenuptial Agreement printed in bold across the top of the papers. The prickle at the base of my neck explodes into ice, dripping down my spine. “I didn’t…” I flip through the papers. The hell? I didn’t create this, and I sure as hell didn’t sign it.

  My father. “The fucking asshole!”

  We’ve been forging each other’s signatures for years, primarily for minor business purposes, not that I’d ever admit this to anyone.

  I’m on fire. Burning my fingertips on the paper as if I can set it ablaze.

  “You think I’d do this?” I shout at Caitlin. I toss the pile to the floor and close the distance between us. “Where’s Teagan?”

  “She’s gone.” Caitlin sniffs and rolls back her shoulders. “She grabbed her stuff, shoved it into a duffel bag, and took off.”

  “Caitlin, how could you think I’d give her nothing?”

  The tremor in Teagan’s voice makes sense. As well as her confusion and hesitancy.

  I hadn’t even considered a prenup. What’s mine is hers. Always. Forever.

  Jesus. She thinks I’d do this, after everything I told her, after everything I said I wanted for her?

  I can’t even tell what aches more. My friend in front of me, staring at me like I’m a stranger, or the woman I love thinking I’d have my dad of all people bring her papers saying she gets nothing from our marriage.

  “I need air.” I rub my chest with my hand, but it’s pointless. My heart is pounding against my ribs, trying to escape its protective covering, and I don’t know if I want to save it.

  If this is what happens when you fall in love with a woman who doesn’t love you back, who can’t see the good in you despite evidence to the contrary, then what in the hell good is a heart for anyway?

  I let loose a string of curse words and slam open the sliding doors that take me to the patio outside. It’s twenty-six stories high, and the wind whips around me.

  My eyes scan the horizon, and I’m searching for her. Searching for Teagan despite the fact she thinks I’d do this to her.