Fallon
If I had known agreeing to this charity gala meant spending another night pretending my husband actually liked me, I would’ve faked a mysterious illness and stayed in bed.
But the Prescott name was listed as a major donor. The Callahan name carried even more weight. And skipping out on a high-profile event like this would only fuel the rumor mill already obsessed with our marriage.
So there I was — wrapped in silk and sequins, my makeup flawless, my mask firmly in place.
Even if the man at my side hadn’t said a word to me since our fight.
“Smile,” Reid murmured, his hand settling at the small of my back as the cameras started flashing.
I plastered one on, my teeth aching from the effort. “I hate you.”
“Smile bigger,” he shot back, his lips curving into something that looked a
