Page 14 of The Fake Husband
"What was that for?"
"Making a point."
"What point?"
She lifts one shoulder. "That I could."
Nadine's toes skim the surface, making lazy ripples. I'm stretched out beside her, palms braced on the warm stone. In one smooth motion, she slides into the water. Water swallows her with a splash.
She disappears for a second, arms reaching up, and my legs vanish from under me. Cold water grips my calves as she tugs with both hands, laughing. It’s a ridiculous attempt. I outweigh her by a lot. I’m stronger. I could easily anchor myself, keep her there, drag her back up instead.
But she’s looking at me like that again—grinning, determined, hair already slicked back from her face.
I let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I’m generous.”
With zero real effort, I let myself slide forward.
The water rushes up my back, soaking my shirt as I fall into it. The shock of cold hits my skin, but her arms are still around my legs. Nadine surfaces properly now, eyes bright, laughter echoing across the pool.
"You know, you have similarities to that Mosasaurus."
Nadine beams. "Why? Because I'm like an apex predator?"
"No, because you have the strength of a lizard, on a minor scale."
She shoves my shoulder. I don't move. She tries again, harder, and I catch her wrist.
"You remember the day we moved Rachel's couch?" I ask.
She blinks at the shift. "The one from the alley?"
"The one you said was structurally compromised."
"It was structurally compromised. The frame was split."
"You made me check every joint before we brought it up."
"Because if it collapsed in the stairwell, we'd be liable for damages."
"You wanted to leave it on the curb, so you spent twenty minutes explaining why it was a bad idea."
Nadine's quiet for a second. "You remember that?"
"You were wearing my jacket because you forgot yours. It was November. You had your hair up, and you kept pushing your glasses up your nose while you argued about a couch."
"I don't remember the jacket."
"I do."
The humor in her eyes is gone, replaced by something darker. "Why are you bringing this up?"
"Because you've been noticing things wrong with the world for as long as I've known you, and I've never once wanted you to stop. I will always let myself fall into your trap."
Nadine laughs and tilts her head back to look at the sky.
I'm looking at the line of her throat and the pool light catching the side of her face, and the words are right there. Three of them. Short. True for nine years and counting.
I know what they are, but I also know tonight's not the night, because Nadine's still figuring out what the last hour meant, and I'm not going to hand her something that big while she's still processing. I've waited nine years. A few more weeks is nothing.
