Page 54 of Proposal Play

“Understandable,” she replies. “Anyway, I was saying it would be great if you could bring your wife to our first fundraiser. It’s coming up soon.” That’s the picnic for the families. “I didn’t want to bring it up before when you were single, but…” she says with a relieved sigh, “It’s better optics if you have a plus-one now. The donors will enjoy meeting your wife. It looks better than showing up solo,” she adds, a little apologetic.

I stop in my tracks, letting her words sink in. And…yeah, I’m smiling. A little wickedly. I like what she said more than I should. But oh hell, do I like it. It feels like a stay of execution for this marriage, and I’m a little elated for the reprieve.

No,a lot.

We finish the call, and I head back to the party. Once the painting session wraps up, Maeve grabs my arm and pulls me toward a secluded corner behind an abstract sculpture. The party’s still humming in the background, but here, it’s just us.

She turns to face me, her hazel eyes sharp. “What was that about? I didn’t want to make a scene,” she says, her voice steady, no hesitation.

I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I meet her gaze, standing firm. “No one should make you feel uncomfortable like that. You were clearly trying to get away, and he kept touching you,” I say, anger bubbling up again. I want to erase the feeling of his handon her. “No one gets to treat you like that, Maeve. Not while I’m around.”

She blinks, like she’s surprised by the intensity in my voice. But she doesn’t back down. “I could’ve handled it. I was handling it.”

“I know,” I reply, my tone softening just a little. Normally, I don’t get this...protective. But she’s different. She’s my person. “You shouldn’t have to. Not when I’m here.”

“Asher, I appreciate the whole caveman thing, but I was supposed to blend in. That was the opposite,” she says.

A fire burns in me. “That asshole touched you,” I point out.

“I know, but...”

“And the host didn’t want him here anyway.”

“I know…” She pauses, shaking her head like she’s taking it all in. Honestly, this reaction is new for me too, so I get it. Her expression softens. “It’s just…we were supposed to fly under the radar,” she says, her voice gentler. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To try to, I don’t know, keep things quiet?”

I did. But now? I’m not so sure I do.

“I did, but this was different. That guy’s a prick. I’m sorry if it brought more attention to you,” I say, crossing my arms. “But I’m not sorry for stepping in.”

She sizes me up. “Well, that’s clear. You’re unapologetically possessive.”

“I am,” I say, not backing down.

She blows out a breath, then relents. “Fine, he was way out of line. I did need you. And this whole caveman thing? TheMy wife is so talented. That came out like a hiss?It’s kind of a hot trait in a…” She stops, lifts a brow in question, then says, “fake husband?”

I wasn’t faking anything earlier with that Nigel prick, but I just nod. “Sure, fake husband works.”

“Anyway, I wasn’t expecting it. Or another photo either. Or becoming the center of attention again,” she huffs out a laugh. “Are we magnets for trouble?”

“Looks like it,” I say, scratching my jaw, but smiling now since she seems to have cooled off.

“I guess we’re pretty bad at lying low.”

I laugh too, because what else can you do? “We’re terrible at it.” I pause. “So you forgive your husband?”

She smiles. “It’s hard to stay mad at you. Especially since Mr. Vincenzo invited me back. To paint another party.”

I beam. “Told you my wife is talented.”

Her smile from those words hits me right in the heart. “So yeah,” she says, “it…weirdly worked out.”

Which is an apt way to describe us right now. “About that,” I say, moving on because there’s another topic that’s demanding my focus—one that I like far too much. When we arrived and she needed me to play along as her real husband, I was all too happy to do it. Hell, if she needed me to continue for a day, a week, a month, I’d say yes. But right now, I need her to help me out, and I’m not entirely sure why this thrills me so much. I shouldn’t want this so badly, and yet…I do. “I talked to Soraya as the party was wrapping up.”

Maeve raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“She congratulated us on the wedding, like Angelina did earlier,” I say, then lay it all out about the upcoming picnic. “She also asked if you’d be joining me.” I take a beat, then with some vulnerability ask, “Will you?”

I want her yes too much. Why am I dying for it? Why do I want it when she’s made it clear she wants to be just friends?