Page 107 of Bound To Be Mine

“I will.”

“Every day.”

“Every day,” I promised.

One more kiss, and then I forced myself to pull away. If I didn’t go now, I might not go at all.

I climbed the stairs without looking back, because I knew if I did, I’d see him standing there watching me leave, and I’d probably run back down.

The flight attendant greeted me with a warm smile and offered coffee. I accepted gratefully and settled into one of the cream leather seats. The engines hummed to life beneath me.

I pulled out my phone and sent Briggs a quick text.

Me: Thank you for this morning. Go kill it in court today.

His response came almost immediately.

Briggs: Already miss you. Safe flight.

The plane began to taxi. I watched through the window as the city lights grew smaller, then disappeared entirely as we climbed into the dark sky.

And that’s when the tears came.

I pressed my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sob that wanted to escape. This was ridiculous. I was crying over a man I’d known for less than a month. A man I’d accidentally married while blackout drunk. A man who lived on the opposite coast and had a life that had absolutely nothing to do with mine.

Except he didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He felt like home.

I grabbed a tissue from my purse and tried to pull myself together. The flight attendant was being very polite about pretending not to notice my mini breakdown.

How had this happened? How had Briggs Blackwell gone from the most infuriating man I’d ever met to someone I couldn’t imagine not having in my life?

We’d been on what, four dates? Five if I counted our wedding night, which I didn’t remember, so I wasn’t sure it counted. This should still be the casual phase. The getting-to-know-you phase. The are-we-going-to-be-a-thing phase.

Instead, I was married to him. Temporarily living with him. Falling for him.

I’d fallen for him. That was the truth I’d been avoiding. Somewhere between the karaoke and the carriage ride and the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I’d gone and fallen in love with my fake husband.

I wiped my eyes and took a shaky breath. I needed to get it together. I had a full day ahead of me, starting with a meeting about cake and ending with God knew what kind of wedding emergency. These were what my days were about. I spent my days putting out little fires. It kept me busy. Did I really have time for a husband?

The sun was starting to rise as we flew west. I watched it and thought about how Briggs was probably already at the courthouse by now, putting on his armor and preparing for battle.

I pulled up our text thread and typed out another message.

Me: I hate that I already miss you this much. This is your fault for being so perfect.

I hit send before I could overthink it, then immediately regretted being so vulnerable. But it was true. He was perfect. For me, at least. It was definitely cheesy, but I didn’t care.

My phone buzzed.

Briggs: Not perfect. But I’m glad you think so. Miss you too. More than I should after only a few hours.

I smiled through the tears that were threatening to start again.

By the time we landed in LA, I’d managed to compose myself. I texted Briggs that I’d made it safely, grabbed my bag, and took an Uber home. My house looked the same as always, but somehow emptier. I dropped my bag in the entryway and stood in the middle of my living room, feeling displaced in my own home.

My phone rang. Cleo.

“Hey,” I answered. “I’m just grabbing my briefcase and then I have to meet my clients in two hours.”