Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Speaking of your sister … Don’t forget we’re taking her shopping for baby stuff this weekend.” Alicia and Harri would also be coming with us.
“There’s no chance of me forgetting it—I’m looking forward to it.” Sabrina grinned, joining her hands together. “I can’t wait to be an aunt. It’ll be—”
“Well, look who it is.”
I almost stumbled on hearing the familiar male voice. No. No, not that creepy dick.
Clad in a tailored suit, Jenson was strolling out of a room up ahead where a cocktail party appeared to be taking place. A cluster of just-as-smartly-dressed males followed behind him.
Sabrina quietly groaned. “I can’t stand this weirdo.” She’d come across him a few times while visiting me in what used to be my home.
“I don’t know anyone who can.” As he was blocking my path, I reluctantly slowed to a halt and gave him a sedate smile.
His own smile, by contrast, was wide and intimate. “Addison, how’re you doing?” he asked, moving closer.
“I’m fine.” I tensed when he draped an arm over my shoulders—I repeat, draped an arm over my shoulders—as he turned to his pals.
“This is Addison Mercier, Dax’s wife,” he told them with the familiarity of someone introducing their sibling. “I have the pleasure of saying they’re both friends of mine.”
Friends? Snort. Not even close.
Sabrina bugged humor-filled eyes at me and then looked away, most likely struggling to hold back a laugh.
See, this was a “thing” now. People who I only peripherally knew would not only act over-the-top friendly with me, they’d introduce me as their buddy to others—always being sure to add that I was Dax Mercier’s wife. Basically, they liked to insinuate to others that they had a connection of sorts to him.
Sabrina had been right when she’d predicted that my marrying Dax would positively impact Sapphire Glade. It was nice and all, but I wanted people to hire us because we deserved it, not because they wanted to score points with Dax. Some would even enquire as to whether he’d turn up at their event.
Why the hell would he?
I smoothly stepped out from under Jenson’s arm and gave his associates a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you all. This is my friend, Sabrina.”
The men greeted us both warmly, and two seemed somewhat amused. I got the impression that they knew Jenson was full of shit.
He refocused on me. “How is Dax? He looked well the last time I saw him.”
“When was that?” I asked.
His mouth bopped open and closed. “Recently,” he finally settled on.
“Ah. Well, he’s doing just fine.”
Sabrina pointed at Jenson. “You look familiar … Were you at their wedding?” she asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t.
Jenson parted his lips to speak … but didn’t say a word. Well, to deny his presence would beg the question of why he didn’t get an invite, being our “friend” and all.
“No,” I replied for him. “He’s my old neighbor.”
Sabrina clicked her fingers. “Ah, that’s right. I knew I recognized him from somewhere.”
I patted his arm. “It was good seeing you again, Jackson.”
His eyes flared. “Jenson.”
I gave a fake wince. “Right, sorry.” I flashed his friends a brief smile. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” I quickly made my escape.
Beside me, Sabrina huffed. “Name-droppers are just plain sad.”
“At least he’s stopped being creepy—small mercies and all that. Alicia said he doesn’t bother her anymore.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Outside the beautiful building, I practically wilted under the August heat. Both of us eager to get out of the sun, we strolled down the path that cut through the manicured lawn and then hopped into my car.
Folding her arms, Sabrina angled her body to face me better. “So … now that our workday is pretty much over … I think it’s a good time to bring this up.”
Reversing out of the parking space, I shot her a confused glance. “Bring up what?”
“The thing is … I think Dax might have something against gay people.”
I brought the car to an abrupt halt. “What?”
“He turns down my every ‘let’s go on a double-date’ suggestion.”
Sighing, I drove forward. “It’s not about you, let alone the fact that you’re gay. He gives not one fuck about that.”
“So what’s the problem, then?”
My hands flexing on the steering wheel, I elaborated, “He simply has no interest in going on dates.”
Sabrina stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t get it,” she finally said, her hands slipping to her lap. “Why not? It’s not as if he’s a hermit or social nightmare.”
“No,” I agreed, pulling out of the lot and onto the main road, “but we don’t do couple stuff.”
“No couple stuff?” Sabrina’s voice rang with astonishment. “At all?”
“You do remember our marriage is no more than a business arrangement, yes?”
“Well, yeah. But he promised that you wouldn’t have a cold marriage.”
“He swore that we would spend time at home together like a normal couple, and we do. As we pre-agreed before marrying, we eat together, we talk, we have sex. He’s living up to his end of the bargain, just as I am mine.” It wasn’t exactly his fault that—with the exception of when we were in bed—it all felt forced and sometimes even awkward. “He didn’t promise me romance, and I didn’t ask for it. We agreed we’d be friends, though.”