Page 77 of The Reason I Married Him
“Are you okay with that?” Wyatt asks.
“Yup.” I smile at him, putting on that faithful mask of mine that got me through the nights of my dad screaming at Ryland. Of the mornings when Dad beat Ryland with a shoe because he hadn’t put out the trash the night before. Of the days when I longed so desperately to be held by anyone . . . anyone who would comfort me like a mother or tell me that everything would be okay when I knew deep down it wasn’t.
“Are you sure?” It’s as if he can see right through me, and I don’t like that.
So I roll my eyes at him. “Jesus, Wyatt, yes. Like you said, it’s a year. It’s not a big deal. We will get what we want and go our separate ways. Works out great. Does your lawyer need anything from me for the prenup and agreement?”
He eyes me.
Studies me.
Watches over me for a beat too long.Please stop examining me. I don’t think you’ll like what you find.
But finally he says, “I’ll let you know if she does. Oh, and it might help if I actually have your information in my phone.” He pulls it out from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to me.
I stare down at the wallpaper on his phone and back up at him. “What’s this?” I flash the screen at him.
“My phone.”
“Uh, no, the picture on your phone?”
He smirks. “That’s you. It’s my screensaver too. Pretty clever, huh?”
“When did you take this picture of me? I’m squatting over a paint tray like a chicken as if I’m ready to lay an egg.”
He chuckles. “I know, I found it funny.”
One year of tolerating his grating sense of humor. One. Year.
“You could have asked for a more flattering picture,” I say.
“And stare at your pretty face all day?” He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”
My body goes still, a blush creeping over my cheeks.
Pretty face.
He really said pretty face. Just so casually, as if it’s a natural thing to compliment your fake wife. Compliments were rarely handed out when I was growing up. Ryland rarely complimented us. Cassidy would, but it was few and far between as well. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who just says what’s on their mind, and that . . . that worries me. “I can see you’re trying to processmy comment.” His smile is infuriating and also . . . comforting. How is that possible? “Do you not take compliments well?”
“They’re . . . they’re just not needed,” I say, shaking my head.
“Well, it’s true. You do have a pretty face.”
“Stop that,” I say as I plug my phone number into his phone. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Fair enough,” he says. I finish typing my info into his phone and hand it over to him as he says, “I’m here to help you, Aubree. I need you to know that. I’m not your enemy. I’m not here to harass you or to make you feel bad. I’m not here to treat you like shit or to dredge up any ill will. I’m on your side. I’m your support. I’d like to be your friend. I think the more we recognize that we’re in this together, the easier our time as a married couple will be. Okay?” His brow crinkles with his question, and I find it kind of cute.
“Okay,” I say. I figure I should give him a rundown of what he’s working with. It’s only fair. “But I need you to know that I don’t trust a lot of people. I didn’t have the best childhood, which I don’t plan on discussing, so please don’t ask. I hate dealing with emotions and feelings. I like to work and get things done. I have two goals in life: to make sure Mac is cared for and loved and to ensure this farm prospers for many years. Don’t get in the way of those two things, and we can be friends.”
“That seems simple enough,” he answers.
“Good.” I set my feet on the ground. “Then if this is all done, I think I’ll get to work.”
He stands at the same time I do. “How can I help?”
“Go back to your room at the inn and do whatever you need to do. I just need some time to myself.”
His lips twist to the side as he studies me. “Normally, I wouldn’t want you working alone, but I can understand the need to be in your own head. So I’ll leave you alone, but tonight, I’m taking you out.”
