* * *

  Rex: You could say that

  * * *

  Abby: And now you’ll have me, so that makes you a bigamous work husband

  * * *

  Rex: Big Work Love 😉

  A laugh burst out of me at the unexpected response and winky face. Shaking my head, I placed the phone facedown on the nightstand again and got ready for my day, resolved to push the perplexing conversation from my mind.

  Rex: Hey

  * * *

  Rex: You around?

  I lifted an eyebrow at Rex’s midafternoon text. I’d just arrived at the bar to start my shift and had been counting chip bags in the back. Since today was a Monday, I doubted we’d get a substantive rush at any point this evening; Mondays and Tuesdays were typically used to clean up from the craziness of the weekend.

  Abby: Yes. What’s up?

  * * *

  Rex: How was your day?

  * * *

  Abby: Not bad. I had a productive day at the studio then biked over to work. Now I’m counting chip bags

  I reread my response several times, then decided to add,

  Abby: How about you?

  * * *

  Rex: Studio?

  * * *

  Abby: I’m a member of a pottery studio. I make ceramic goods

  * * *

  Rex: Like plates and mugs?

  * * *

  Abby: Yep

  * * *

  Rex: Do you sell them?

  * * *

  Abby: Yep

  * * *

  Rex: Can I buy some?

  * * *

  Abby: Nope

  “What’s so funny?”

  My head whipped up and I found Walker standing just inside the back room doorway.

  Glancing between me and my phone, Walker pointed to my cell. “Is that Josephine with more of those TikToks?”

  My friend Josephine had charmed Walker by showing him funny TikTok videos over the summer. He wasn’t certain what TikTok was, just that it was a social media thing used by “the younger generation.”

  “Um, no. It’s—I’m messaging a friend. Sorry.” My phone buzzed in my hand, but I resisted looking at the screen. I’d texted my friends while working before, but for some reason this time it felt different, like I was taking advantage of Walker’s leniency.

  “No need to apologize.” Walker walked toward the office, giving me a puzzled look as he strolled past.

  I waited until I heard the door close behind me before reading the new message from Rex.

  Rex: Why not? Aren’t I ceramics worthy?

  * * *

  Abby: Because my sister wife buys your furniture, clothes, food, airline tickets, gifts, etc. If she wants to buy any of my ceramics, that’s fine

  I hadn’t met or spoken with Rex’s agent yet but given how she seemed to manage so much of his life, I hoped we would be friends.

  Rex: She doesn’t buy my ceramics. I am very particular about those

  * * *

  Abby: Why? Do they have to be giant-sized?

  * * *

  Rex: Yep. And perfectly formed just like the rest of me

  I barked a laugh even as my face flooded with heat. He didn’t mean . . . Did he? Or was I reading too much into the text? Get your mind out of the gutter, Abby.

  Squinting at his message, I dithered and hemmed and hawed before—on a rush of recklessness—responding with,

  Abby: Ego included, obvs

  As soon as I sent the text, a weird, tight discomfort settled in my stomach. What was I doing?

  Text flirting with Rex, that’s what you’re doing.

  Regret and confusion pressed heavy on my shoulders. Did I want to text flirt with Rex? Or anyone?

  I don’t . . . think so?

  I’d meant every word I’d told him: I didn’t date, I didn’t want to date, I had no desire to enter into any kind of romantic relationship until the debt was paid off. Maybe we weren’t flirting, but the fact that the notion had even entered my brain was troubling.

  I shouldn’t want to flirt with Rex, or anyone.

  Determined to stop thinking about him and our conversations in that light, I wondered if I should add something else, something to dispel the awkwardness I might’ve just created with my last message. Before I could decide what to say, a new text came through.

  Rex: You know it, babe

  Rex: Do you want to pick out your wedding dress? Or should I have my agent do it?

  Nibbling my lip, I pushed my hair out of my face and tried to focus on his text. One week after signing the prenup, waking up to new messages from Rex was no longer unusual, but it was problematic. Five out of the last seven days I’d awoken from sexy Rex dreams just to find a question from him on my phone, usually asking about my schedule or what I had planned for the day.

  After graduating from high school and prior to signing the prenup, the frequency of my Rex-related dreams had severely declined. Maybe an odd one here or there, once or twice a year. But with all the text messages and friendly banter, and him being so freakin’ hot when I’d seen him last, the fantasies had made their forceful return.

  They were also much more—ahem—adult than they had been before.

  I’d never felt brave enough to have a one-night stand, figuring—with my luck—I’d end up with a missing kidney at the end of the night, or in prison again, or shipped off to some ice planet as the new bride for a blue alien. But recently, I’d seriously considered finding a guy for some no-strings sex. I desperately needed some relief from the constant barrage of Rex.

  My brain mostly clear of the lingering post-dream images, I typed out what I hoped was a thoughtful response.

  Abby: Your agent can do it unless you need me to for some reason. Remind her that I’m tall

  * * *

  Rex: You’re short

  * * *

  Abby: I am not short

  * * *

  Rex: Shorty

  * * *

  Abby: Keep that up and I’ll wear platforms to the wedding, shorty

  * * *

  Rex: I would love to see that

  Ignoring the lovely, swirling heat playing with my internal organs, I tried not to smile or think too much about how natural it had become for our texts to veer into flirtatious territory. Then again, maybe they weren’t flirtatious. Maybe I was reading too much into his messages. Again.

  He is not flirting with you, and you don’t want him to flirt with you because you don’t want to flirt with anyone.

  As usual, I was the one to change the subject and steer the conversation back on course.

  Abby: What is the plan for the wedding?

  * * *

  Rex: After Saturday’s practice, we’ll get married on the stadium field and the team photog will be there to document for media

  * * *

  Rex: Sound okay?

  * * *

  Abby: Sounds awesome!

  * * *

  Rex: And the team will be there

  * * *

  Abby: WHAT? SRSLY???

  * * *

  Rex: Yep. It’s all set

  Abby: Please tell me you’ll be in your football uniform. You can pick out my wedding dress- anything you want- if you promise to wear your home uniform for the wedding

  I cringed almost as soon as I sent the text, my fingers flying over the keypad faster than my brain had been able to catch the request or the offer. Ah well. It was done now, and I should’ve known better than to text first thing in the morning.

  I was prone to making an idiot of myself during our morning text exchanges. I grew more circumspect and thoughtful as the day progressed, which helped me not at all. Rex seemed to prefer messaging me in the morning.

  Rex: You’ll wear anything I want?

  * * *

  Abby: As long as it’s not the Squall’s mascot outfit, yes

  * * *

  Rex: My jersey?

  * * *

  Abby: And what else?

  * * *

  Rex: Platforms

  * * *

  Abby: And?

  * * *

  Rex: That’s it

  My face on fire, I sputtered a shocked laugh and lifted my hair off my hot neck.

  This was flirting, right?

  He was flirting with me. It had been over ten years since I’d flirted with someone who wasn’t drunk or almost drunk. I was out of practice, but this was most definitely flirting . . . right?

  Or maybe he’s just being funny?

  I’d been the one to bring up the platforms earlier, perhaps this was him being clever and silly?

  Come on, stupid. He’s just trying to develop a repertoire with you, break the ice. This isn’t flirting.

  Bah! I’d thought the word flirt so much it was starting to sound strange in my head.

  WHATEVER!

  My point was, Rex would not flirt with me. He just wouldn’t. From his perspective, he was paying me to fake date and marry him. If we weren’t friendly and comfortable with each other one-on-one, then we would have no hope of convincing anyone our marriage was real. Obviously, that’s all this was, and I needed to stop entertaining crazy thoughts and confusing myself.

  Frowning at the phone, I mentally composed several potential responses while successfully talking myself off the crazy ledge. After much debate, I responded with,

  Abby: Sure thing, boss

  A reminder to myself that’s who Rex believed himself to be.

  I was only doing this as a favor.

  I wouldn’t take his money above the necessary costs incurred by helping him.

  But he still thought of himself as my boss, and I seriously doubted Rex would ever flirt with someone he considered an employee.

  He’s being friendly. Not flirting. The end. Stop thinking about it.

  I’d just walked into my apartment and flipped on the lights after a late shift when my phone buzzed in my back pocket.

  Rex: Are you awake?

  * * *

  Abby: What’s up?

  I stared at the screen, waiting for a response, and shifted on my feet tiredly. The three animated dots danced and persisted for a full minute. Either he had a lot to tell me, or he’d typed out a message, deleted it, and was typing out something new.

  Crossing to the kitchen, I placed my phone on the counter and walked to my wee little pantry to extract a box of shredded wheat. I also pulled out a jar of Nutella. The day had been a long one—a bar fight, a gun pulled, broken glasses and bottles, ambulances, police—and I needed the comfort of Nutella slathered on something crunchy.

  Finally, just as I finished taking my first bite, the phone vibrated.

  Rex: How was your day?

  I stared at his text, replaying the events of the evening. I didn’t want to unload on him about my day. That’s why Nutella and shredded wheat existed.

  Abby: Okay. How was yours?

  * * *

  Rex: Is the car okay? Does it still smell? Do I need to send the guys back out to detail?

  * * *

  Abby: It’s fine. Even Kaylee said it smells better than new. How was your day?

  * * *

  Rex: Did you go to the studio today?

  Rolling my eyes at his evasiveness, I texted,

  Abby: HOW

  * * *

  Abby: WAS

  * * *

  Abby: YOUR

  * * *

  Abby: DAY

  * * *

  Abby: ?

  * * *

  Rex: Fine

  What a stinker.

  Abby: What did you do?

  * * *

  Rex: Work

  * * *

  Abby: That’s it? Just work?

  * * *

  Rex: And text you

  * * *

  Abby: Oh. Then why wasn’t your day awesome?

  * * *

  Rex: My deepest apologies. Upon reflection, you’re right. It was awesome

  Abby: It’s important to reflect

  The three dots appeared, then disappeared. I thought he wasn’t going to respond. But then, just as I’d finished rinsing off my plate and leaving it by the sink to dry, another message came through.

  Rex: Goodnight, Abby.

  I know it’ll sound silly, but for some reason his words felt sad to me. I considered responding with a benign Goodnight, Rex, or not responding at all. But an odd urge to cheer him up had me typing,

  Abby: Sweet dreams, babe

  * * *

  Rex: 😊

  The smiley emoji made me smile. As I readied for bed, brushing my teeth and washing my face, I wasn’t sure which had helped alleviate the day’s stress more: the complex magic of Nutella or Rex’s simple smiley emoji?

  Waking ridiculously early to shower and change for my trip to Chicago, I wasn’t surprised to find a message from Rex already on my phone.

  Rex: My agent is sending a car for you today to pick you up and take you to your hotel while I’m at practice. Then you have appointments for fittings

  Rex had mentioned earlier in the week that I could pack light as the event outfits—for the charity thing tonight and for our wedding at the stadium tomorrow—would be provided upon arrival. Underwear, socks, toiletries, PJs, and flying clothes were the extent of the items I stuffed in my backpack.

  I’d packed and repacked my bag multiple times. This was my first time taking an airplane in my entire life and not because I was afraid to fly. I had no idea if I was afraid to fly. I’d never been given the option, until now.

  Abby: Will I meet your agent?

  * * *

  Rex: Not this trip. Are you bringing me any perfect, giant mugs?

  * * *

  Abby: I don’t have any glazed and fired that match your giant physique

  * * *

  Rex: Bring me one anyway

  * * *

  Rex: A wedding gift

  * * *

  Abby: What are you getting me? (as a wedding gift)

  * * *

  Rex: Literally anything you want. Ask and it’s yours

  Oh. That was a dangerous thing for him to send so early in the morning, especially after I’d woken up this morning from a sexy dream about the two of us taking a dip in a hot tub. Obviously, requesting sexual favors was out of the question. I decided to ask for something similarly unlikely.

  Abby: World peace

  * * *

  Rex: Except for that

  * * *

  Abby: For democrats and republicans to get along and to see themselves as citizens of the same country.

  * * *

  Rex: Or that

  * * *

  Abby: Affordable, reliable internet

  * * *

  Rex: Not that either

  * * *

  Abby: Fine. What will you give me?

  * * *

  Rex: You have to ask and be specific

  * * *

  Rex: I will only do what you ask me to do

  Hmm. That read like a riddle. Clearly, my mind was still addled from my lusty dreams.