The Subtitute Bride

CHAPTER 7: Breakfast With Grandma

Kaela had never been so nervous in her entire life.

Rhys Anderson's arm was still around her waist, his hand warm against her back. His touch was possessive, intimate — the kind of touch a real husband would give to his wife. If anyone was watching, they would think he was obsessed with her.

If only they knew that five minutes ago, he was telling her to take off his shirt.

"Grandma, you should have told us you were coming early," Rhys said smoothly, his thumb rubbing small circles on Kaela's waist. The gesture sent shivers down her spine.

"I wanted to surprise my grandson and his new wife," Grandmother Eleanor said, her sharp eyes never leaving Kaela. She walked closer, looking Kaela up and down. "So you are the famous Kaela. The girl who made my Rhys settle down overnight."

Kaela forced a smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Anderson."

"Eleanor, dear. Call me Grandma." The old woman took Kaela's hands. Her hands were soft but her grip was strong. "Let me look at you properly. Hmm. Pretty. Simple. Not like those city girls Rhys used to bring. You have kind eyes."

Rhys tensed behind her.

"Thank you, Grandma," Kaela whispered, feeling her cheeks burn.

"Well, let's eat! I'm starving, and I want to hear everything about how my grandson proposed. He never told me the story. He just said 'I'm married' over the phone like he was reporting a business merger."

Kaela's heart dropped. They hadn't prepared for this. What was their proposal story?

She looked up at Rhys in panic.

Rhys didn't even blink. He pulled out a chair for Kaela and then sat beside her, his leg brushing hers under the table. He placed his hand on top of hers on the table, lacing their fingers together.

"It was simple, Grandma," Rhys said, looking at Kaela like she was the most precious thing in the world. The acting was so good, Kaela almost believed it herself. "I couldn't wait anymore. I took her to the garden at night. I told her I didn't want to wait another day to make her mine."

Kaela choked on air.

Grandma Eleanor squealed like a young girl. "Oh, romantic! Just like your grandfather!"

Under the table, Kaela pinched Rhys's thigh hard. Hard.

Rhys squeezed her hand tighter in warning, but his lips twitched. He was trying not to laugh.

The maids started bringing in breakfast — pancakes, bacon, fruits, coffee. It was a feast.

"So, Kaela dear," Grandma started, cutting her pancakes. "Rhys said you met at a charity event?"

"Yes," Kaela answered quickly. "At the... at the library fundraiser last year."

"Oh! I love libraries," Grandma said. "And what do you do, dear?"

Kaela hesitated. Should she lie?

"She's a writer," Rhys answered for her. "She writes stories. Children's stories."

Kaela stared at him. She never told him that. How did he know she used to write children's stories in her notebook when she was in college?

Grandma clapped her hands. "A writer! No wonder you are so quiet and observant. Rhys needs someone like that. Someone who will soften him."

"I try," Kaela said softly.

Throughout breakfast, Rhys never let go of her hand. He would put bacon on her plate. He would wipe a small crumb from the corner of her lips with his thumb. He would whisper something in her ear that made her laugh — even though what he actually whispered was, "Smile wider, my grandma is watching."

It was all an act. A perfect, painful act.

And Kaela hated how good it felt.

After breakfast, Grandma stood up.

"I have to go, my loves. But I'm so happy, Rhys. Finally, you look happy. You look... human."

She hugged Rhys, then hugged Kaela even tighter.

"Take care of him, okay? He acts cold, but he's just scared. His parents... you know. He thinks love always leaves. Prove him wrong, dear."

Kaela's eyes watered. "I will try, Grandma."

When the door finally closed and Grandma's car drove away, the warmth disappeared instantly.

Rhys let go of Kaela's hand like it burned him. He stood up, his face back to that cold, distant mask from this morning.

"You did well," he said, fixing his cufflinks, not even looking at her. "Grandma liked you. She believed us."

Kaela stood there, her hand still feeling the ghost of his touch.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

Rhys finally looked at her. "What do you want me to say? Good job, substitute bride?"

Kaela laughed, but it was a sad laugh. "You know what, Rhys? For a second during breakfast, I almost forgot I was just a contract. For a second, I thought you actually liked touching me. My bad."

She turned to walk away, but Rhys's voice stopped her.

"Kaela."

She didn't turn.

"Don't get used to it," he said quietly. "The touching. The pretending. Don't get used to it. It will only hurt you in the end."

Kaela closed her eyes. Too late.

She was already getting used to it.