My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

my mom telling Brody he should make sure no one at the police station sneezed near my pregnant sister or himself. Like he could send them home for the sniffles. But the flu was no joke this year. I’d had my shot early when we did the free flu shot clinic at the fire station about a month and a half ago, so I was one of the last men standing. All these macho firefighters who don’t think they ever catch the flu so why get a shot? They were all moaning in the fetal position and demanding chicken soup while I do their jobs now.

I was a little disappointed not to get to spend Saturday night with Trixie, but I wasn’t going to whine about it.

“You sure about me taking off?” Tyler asked as he got his stuff together.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You’ve got the baby to take care of. And I bet Penny could use the rest.”

“And a shower. Getting a shower is a huge deal to her right now. I guess she’s just tired.”

“Dude, go pick up a pizza on the way home and tell her to take a long shower, don’t hurry,” I said. “Rock the baby. Give him a kiss from me.”

“You can come give him a kiss yourself when you get time. You’ve only seen him twice,” he said.

“I’ll bring food. My mom will make some kind of casserole you can heat up, I’m sure.”

“That’d be great. It’s awesome, I mean he’s the cutest, tiniest little thing ever, but, dang can he scream. And has to eat like four times a night. It’s nonstop, man,” he shook his head ruefully, but he was grinning.

“Maybe get your wife some flowers next week. Just shilling Trixie’s shop and everything, but Penny could probably use the encouragement.”

“You’re like the relationship whisperer. It’s only a matter of time before you have a couple little ones of your own running around. Your sister’s having one, and you’re married now. That kid’s gonna need cousins, and I can’t imagine you wasting any time now that you’ve got a wife at home,” he said.

“Are you wishing sleepless nights and an unshowered wife on me?” I laughed.

“Yeah, it’s the greatest fucking thing ever,” he said with a goofy smile. “And you coach Little League. It’s not like you don’t love kids.”

“I do love kids. I can’t wait to spoil yours. And my sister’s kid when it comes. I’ll be the fun uncle, teach them to drive when they’re thirteen on the back roads, buy ‘em all the stuff their parents say is too expensive… that’s the way to go,” I said, trying to seem cheerful.

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna be a dad. Come on!” Tyler said. “You’re not fooling anybody here. I keep expecting you to pass out cigars any day now and say Damon Junior is on his way. You’d have that kid in a baby-sized fireman’s helmet and holding a baseball bat before he could stand up.”

I had to hold back the smile that threatened to break out on my face. Because for one split second, I forgot that it wasn’t real. I had a flash of hope that it could happen, that Trixie and I could have a little baby or four. Raise a family, watch her bending low over a bush to explain to the kids what kind of flower bloomed there and how to care for it, raise them to watch Die Hard every Christmas. Well, maybe every Christmas after they were twelve because of the language. If it were true, it would be fantastic, I thought. But it wasn’t. It was a dumb story I told myself for three minutes before I remembered it was fake, and I was just the co-applicant on her business loan. A family friend doing her a favor.

She didn’t want to have kids at all, as far as I knew. And even if she did, I figured she, like most people, would prefer to have those kids with someone she loved. Not, you know, her fake husband. I missed her, missed hanging out with her and cooking and watching movies and making her laugh so hard that she snorted. I had even loved tucking her in at night when she fell asleep on the couch. Taking care of her made me happy. It also made me greedy. I wanted to be the person she would turn to for help and encouragement, to make her laugh, to help her solve a problem. I wanted to be her husband and the father of her children.

I wanted to make it real. Sitting at a fire station while the other guys were home with their families—with or without a bad case of the flu—it made me realize what I wanted. A reason to turn down over time, a reason to be home early, and a reason to hate dragging myself out of bed with the alarm. My wife.

My phone was in my hand, ready to text her, to ask her to wait up for me, to plan a midnight movie marathon and I’d bring the wine. I got a message from her instead.

Hope you have an easy shift. Going out with Mich and Nic.

I was disappointed, I’ll admit it. Not that she had friends or plans or a life outside of our house. Disappointed that I didn’t get to ask her to wait up, to anticipate coming home to her on the couch in her pajamas, maybe her cute silky ones, with popcorn ready to pop. Somehow the idea of her waiting there for me had taken on a magical quality. I yearned for it.

She’d been working so hard and doing so much of the renovation herself that I knew she needed a break. Hell, she needed a vacation, not that she’d take one when business was so good. She’d turned down my help when I offered. The only time she’d sort of accepted it was when I was on suspension and my mom