Page 117 of I’m The Worst

I know it’s part of the act. All of this is. But a flutter settles somewhere deep in my belly anyway.

We move forward again, closer to the front now, and the tension creeps back, more threatening this time. More soldiers pass between the lines, stopping people at random, their voices cutting through the noise in short, sharp bursts that make my pulse spike all over again.

My grip on his hand tightens, and I step closer, angling myself into him.

“Keep talking.”

“I—” I try to grab onto something. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters. “You never shut up. Tell me one of your stupid stories.”

I almost laugh at that, but it catches somewhere in my throat.

“You tell me a story,” I whisper against his chest. “Why am I having to do all the work in this relationship?”

“I’m not talking about myself.”

“Shame,” I murmur. “No mini cows, no flannel, emotionally unavailable, one-sided conversations… I have to say, Mr. Johnson, I don’t think our marriage is going to last.”

He grunts softly, the corner of his mouth twitching just enough to make me think he might actually find this amusing.

My smile fades the second a soldier stops the couple in front of us, barking for their papers in Russian. My stomach drops like a stone to my feet. Wolff’s body shifts instantly, turning me so I’m almost fully hidden against his chest.

I dart my eyes around, but another armed soldier’s gaze flicks toward us. I bite down hard on my lip, squeezing Wolff’s hand until my nails dig into his skin.

The soldier approaches.

I hold my breath.

“Passports.”

Wolff’s arm never leaves me. His other hand reaches into his jacket and hands over both passports.

I keep my head down as every second stretches like it could end us.

The officer flips through them slowly, checking stamps, my photo, Wolff’s face. He whistles for another soldier. I flinch so hard my body jerks against Wolff.

His thumb strokes the back of my hand.

I don’t hear the questions the officer asks Wolff. My blood is roaring too loudly in my ears.

Then we’re moving.

Following the two soldiers away from the main crowd, down a narrow hallway.

“What’s happening?” I whisper.

“Roving check,” Wolff mutters. “Keep your head down. We’ll be back in line in a second.”

We’re led into a smaller room with a metal table. The door slams shut behind us with a heavy metallic click that makes my pulse spike.

“Do. Not. Scream.”

The words barely leave Wolff’s mouth before he explodes into motion.

One second, he’s standing beside me.

The next, he’s on the bigger soldier.