Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Too eager to look away, I’m staring at the screen like my life depends on it. I hear him whisper, “My signature is all over the internet. Autographs are sold on eBay.”
Not to shoot down his theory before it has a chance to be proven, but my head can’t wrap around the idea that someone would purposely do this to us. Why me, of all people, if they were going for him?
Since the scroll is so slow on Roberta’s side of the window, I glance up at him. “Why would a fan legally bind you to me?”
The devil is in his eyes. “Legally bound to me. Why does that sound so incredibly sexy?” His tone is more fitting for cocktails at a hideaway bar where we’d have privacy before retiring to a hotel room. But that’s not where we are, leaving me incapable of a response because my throat goes dry.
“Here you go,” Roberta announces, eyeing the screen like I wasn’t just about to mount this man beside me.
Returning my eyes to the monitor, I scan quickly to find the lines where we supposedly once signed. My body stills as I try to make sense of this. But I eventually turn to him for guidance, to say something, to help me understand how this happened. When Shane’s eyes turn to mine, and he shrugs, I know we’re in trouble. “It looks like it could be mine.”
I look back once more, my future hanging in the balance of my response. “That’s not my signature,” I whisper, mentally kissing my house goodbye as I eye Cat Farin on the screen. “But it was when I was eighteen.”
8
Shane
I’m not sure what to say, but anything would be better than the silence between us. “So we’re married?”
“Yes,” she replies at the end of a sigh, her eyes closing and her head dropping back like a weight on her neck.
There’s no way to save her house unless my financials are attached, and that couldn’t be gathered in time to help her. I understand her upset, the defeat overcoming her. I feel somewhat deflated as well, but I’m not sure it’s from the reality of us actually being married or her reaction to us being married. “I’ll try not to take your reaction personally, but damn, is it that bad being married to me?” I joke, hoping it lands the way it’s intended.
A small smile grows when she opens her eyes, but she’s still arching her brow at me. With a nudge to my arm, she laughs. “It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not.” I chuckle.
“For real,” she whines with that smile still shining. “What are we going to do?”
Her big eyes search mine for the answers neither of us has. Sadness permeates the inner golds of her irises, coating them with tears threatening to fall if I don’t do something to fix this once and for all. She deserves happiness, but I’m not sure we can save the house in time. Taking a risk that may not pay off, I waggle my brows. “We could take the honeymoon we never had.”
With a whack of her hand, she shakes her head and belts out laughter that travels across the lobby. “Shane, you’re the worst.” But I see the way her tears disappear, and joy takes over. Even if it’s only for a moment, I’ll take that reaction over the other.
With eyes on us, I know I can’t stand around for long before the paparazzi are called so someone can get a payday. “Hate to cut this short, but I need to get out of here before a scene is caused.”
She glances over her shoulder, suddenly in protective mode with a stiffening posture and ready to give the evil eye to anyone watching us. She’s fucking adorable but has no idea what she’s up against when it comes to my life. “Okay.” Turning back to me, she whispers, “Let’s talk outside.”
Pushing through the door, she slips in front of me when I stop to let her by. “I’ll make some calls about the—oh shit.” I duck back inside the building.
Cat tugs the door and returns after me. “What’s wrong?”
“Paparazzi.” Stupidly, I didn’t realize the implications and how the story could be twisted and sold for a premium. “Fuck. I’m going to be all over the internet before I get home.”
“The county clerk’s—oh no.” The reality of how this looks dawns in her eyes like a sunrise on the horizon. “I’m sorry for dragging you down here. They’re going to think you’re getting married.”
“Or it will inspire them to do a little research and find out I already am. To you.” Fuck. I’ve made her a target. What have I done? “I need to get out of here, but I can’t take my car. It’s too obvious.”
“You can drive mine,” she offers without hesitation. “They’ll never expect to see you in my car. And I’m parked in the back lot, three aisles from the lamp post.”