Page 33 of My Husband Problem

“I just wanted to remind him that you and I are legally married. You aremywife. So I wanted to check in on Miles and his feelings.”

A strange flip occurs in my stomach. I shouldnotlike any possessiveness from Declan. It’s misplaced. This isn’t a real relationship based on true emotions. But dammit, the tingles dancing across my nerve endings call me a liar.

“Miles and I are only friends. We’ve always only been friends. He doesn’t have any feelings that suddenly got stirred up.”

Declan nods. “So he told me.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I do.” He pauses. “Though, I find it puzzling.”

“Puzzling?” I repeat.

“That he’s never wanted more.”

My stomach flips again. I swallow hard. “It’s just never been like that for us. Sometimes you just don’t have physical chemistry with someone, even if it feels, in your head, like you should.” Then I add. “And sometimes youdohave chemistry with someone, even if you feel like you shouldn’t.”

Something flickers in his eyes, but he doesn’t comment on that specifically. Instead, he says, “I still had to be sure. Your sudden move to Louisiana was something none of us really saw coming. I know he had feelings about it. I know he missed you. And was concerned.”

I study him. I don’t know why, but it feels like there’s something underneath his words. Maybe Miles isn’t the only one who missed me? Or who was concerned?

“But Miles reassured you that I’m happy here?”

I probably shouldn’t care so much about Declan’s feelings.

I want an annulment. The fewer emotions involved the better.

“He did,” Declan says.

“Well, then the house and everything must be a big surprise,” I say trying to pull the conversation away from things like feelings.

Declan glances from the ducks to the house, with a half grin tugging at his mouth.

That damn mouth. Ever since the spontaneous kiss last night

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I have definitely noticed his mouth before the kiss.

“You probably think it’s all crazy,” I say, prompting him. For some reason.

Or maybe I’m giving him permission. He can tell me what he thinks about all of this. I want to know. I’m trying to drive him crazy after all. If he thinks it’s ridiculous, I need to gauge justhowridiculous he thinks it all is, and if I need to turn it up a bit or just keep piling it on.

Then again, I fully intend to keep piling on. I have a whole plan here. He thinks he’s going to stay in Rebel and convince everyone, including his grandfather, that we’re madly in love and happily married? No way. I am going to drive him completely crazy and have himrunningto the airport next week.

And I don’t even think it will be that difficult.

When I first came to Rebel, I was acutely, daily, aware of how different this little town was from everything I knew.

The country where Declan and I both grew up is tiny and made up of various, cute little villages dotting a mostlywindswept countryside of rolling hills and valleys where the climate and thin topsoil make it difficult for trees or even thick grass to grow. Families can trace their roots back to the very first generation to come to the island. Everyone knows everyone else.

It’s not the size of Rebel, or the lack of big-city conveniences, or the lack of privacy that is foreign to me, despite spending nearly a decade in a big American city now.

It’s Rebel itself. It is a unique place, full of people who are wonderful, loving, loyal, and…a few crayons short of a full box.

Still, they definitely make things bright and interesting with the colors they’ve got.

And when you put them all together, you have more than a gorgeous rainbow.

The things I initially thought would make Declan absolutely crazy, have turned out to be things that absolutely delight me. I’m definitely happy here.