My Fake Husband by Black, L. (motivational novels TXT) 📕

you wouldn’t approve of us together. There was no denying it though. I reached a point where I didn’t care what we stood to lose. It was worse not to be with her. But you have to chance it. No matter what anyone says or how it looks, you know what’s right for you. And you fight for it. No matter what it costs you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t let me stand in your way, Bro,” I said, and I meant it.

“Me too. Your sister’s an Amazon goddess. I thank God every day for putting her in my life. If that’s how you feel about Trixie, like you’re the luckiest bastard with thumbs on this planet… then you know what to do. You tell her, and you keep telling her and showing her that you love her until she believes it. Or takes out a restraining order against you, which is where my department comes in.”

“Order of protection humor? Really?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Even if you’re right—”

“Which I am.”

“I can’t even get her to talk to me. Much less, let me show her. Although I showed her a good time the night of the fire.”

“Are you sure she had a good time?” he asked skeptically.

“Yes. Of course I’m sure. It was really obvious. Three times.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just theatrics?”

“It was not theatrics,” I said emphatically, insulted by the suggestion that she had faked it with me. “She was very clear about the fact that she came, and I could tell.”

“Trust me, dude. You can’t tell. They can fake where you can’t tell. I don’t know if they learn it in health class in high school when the boys are doing push-ups or what.”

“Well I know what I felt. What she felt,” I said.

“Then you need to talk to the woman, Damon. She’s really got you messed up.”

“She’s not playing games with me. She’s not like that.”

“Okay, what is she like?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“She’s sweet and thoughtful and determined and independent and beautiful and—”

“I get it. You’ve got it bad for her. So go for it. Don’t be sad sack who sits around this bar a year from now telling me how much you miss her.”

“What are you saying?” I said.

The idea of letting her go, watching her succeed in her business, knowing I had a small part in that, as she went on her way alone and my role in her life became smaller and smaller, an acquaintance who did her a favor a long time ago—it made me physically sick.

“That’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it?” I asked. It wasn’t really a question though. “I’m gonna have to go to her real wedding and shake some asshole’s hand and tell him congratulations. Because I let her go.” The horror of that settled around me.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. But you have to tell her what she means to you, that you want to make it real. Otherwise, you stick to the plan and watch her walk out of your life. If you want something with Trixie, you have to talk about it. Start by talking about the fact you slept together, and then she avoided you and you were afraid to bring it up.”

“I’m not afraid to bring it up,” I said irritably.

“If you’re not afraid to bring it up, why are you sitting here with me? Because if you weren’t avoiding an important discussion with your wife, I’m guessing you’d be at home about now,” Brody said.

“Whatever. I’m hanging out with my best buddy. You’re a great guy. When you’re not talking about your intimate experiences with my sister.”

“You know I just said that to wind you up.”

“Yeah, and it worked. I’m not even ashamed.”

“Whatever. Tell her the truth. Tell her you didn’t mean for this to happen but you’ve got feelings for her. The fire made you realize it.”

“What if I did intend for it to happen? What if part of me thought this might have been my shot with her?”

“I’m not sure I’d admit that as a strategy. It seems manipulative.”

“You’re right, but I also don’t want to lie to her. She means too much to me.”

“Lead with that. It sounds sincere.”

“It is sincere. I’m not trying to sound sincere, I am being.”

“Don’t ignore this advice. Tell her you have feelings for her and be totally serious. No sarcasm. No trying to lighten the mood. Don’t mention anything that doesn’t show her in the best light. She’s an angel. Okay?”

“Right. Angel,” I said, a half-smile sneaking in.

“If you want her, don’t give up.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to lose her,” I said. “Let’s go. I need to get home.”

All the way to my house, I blasted old country music, which was mostly depressing and about broken hearts. All those sad cowboys who’d lost their true love forever were enough to underline the fact that I didn’t want to lose my wife.

I unlocked the front door, half of me hoping she’d run into my arms like she did the other night. That had been probably the best moment of my adult life. I’d survived a fire, saved a man, got the girl. That was when the credits should have rolled, Hollywood style. The lamp beside the couch was on, and when I closed the door behind me, I looked around for Trixie.

There she was, asleep on the couch. She had her phone on her chest, her head tipped to the side, like she’d nodded off while reading something. She had a blanket drawn over her lap, her work clothes still on. She’d been putting in long hours, hours without me. I wanted to spend more time with her, watch more trilogies of declining quality like Back to the Future and the Karate Kids we’d binged one Sunday afternoon. I wanted more of her in my life, in my arms.

I’d told her weeks ago she was prettier than the flowers in her shop. That hadn’t been nearly the truth. She