Millionaire Husband by Leanne Banks

hyperventilate. Out of desperation, she did something she rarely did except for children. She pretended. She pretended she was talking to an order taker at Burger Doodle.
    “…to have and to hold from this day forward for richer and poorer…”
    Amy translated, Do you want mustard and pickles on your burger?
    “I do,” she whispered.
    “In sickness and in health…”
    Do you want fries with that?
    “I do,” she whispered again.
    “Till death do you part?”
    And a hot apple pie?
    “I do,” she said, firmly aloud.
    From the corner of her mind, she heard Justin answer the same way she had. The bubble surrounding her game of pretend began to deflate when the judge asked for the rings. Emily bounced to her side with Justin’s ring attached to a ribbon on her little nosegay.
    With trembling fingers, Amy pushed the band on Justin’s finger and repeated the words, “With this ring, I thee wed.”
    She stared at the wide gold band with the diamond solitaire Justin placed on her third finger and heard his voice repeat the same words. The weight of it was unfamiliar. The metal felt cold against her skin. She was enormously glad she wouldn’t have to say anything else because she was too stunned by the ring to make a sound. The ring was definitely not a cheeseburger with mustard and pickles, fries and an apple pie.
    She glanced up to find him staring at his own gold band in shock.
    “You may now kiss the bride,” the judge said.
    Justin met her gaze and she had the slipping, sliding feeling that she had just danced with fate, done the polka with eternity. Though she may have pretended it, those were not Burger Doodle vows she’d just made.
    Justin lowered his mouth to hers, and all her pretending was over.

Five
    A my felt as if she’d spent the day at the circus, minus the fun. After the ceremony, everyone met at the Hawkins’s for a barbecue. The children enjoyed themselves immensely and Amy relaxed a tad until Dylan gave a second toast. It was definitely time to leave. The children were on such a sugar high from the cake and ice cream that they skipped their afternoon naps and “helped” Justin move in.
    She prepared a gourmet dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chicken noodle-o’s soup. God finally smiled on her when all the kids tuckered out early and she put them to bed. Leaning against the wall in the darkened hallway, she closed her eyesand let out a long sigh. The only sounds she heard were the faint ticking of the downstairs clock and the rustling of computer and modem cords as Justin continued to set up his office.
    She rubbed her thumb over the still unfamiliar wide gold band on her finger. Needing solitude, but unwilling to go to her bedroom just yet, she walked downstairs and lay down on the sofa in the quiet den.
    Moments later, Justin appeared in the doorway. A dark silhouette with broad shoulders, he emanated a quiet strength merely by his presence. Amy wondered if the strength was in her imagination. There was so much she didn’t know about him.
    “One question,” he said, his voice low and intimate in the darkness. “With those kids helping, how do you get anything done?”
    She smiled at the dismay in his voice. “The rule of thumb is if you’re female, you add an hour to your estimated completion time for every child helping you.”
    He strolled toward her and looked down at her. “And if you’re male?”
    “Add eight,” Amy said.
    “Eight?”
    Amy nodded, keeping her head on the pillow. “Eight for every child helping you. It’s unfortunate, but men have difficulty focusing on more than onething at a time. I’m not sure if it’s due to hormones or the Y chromosome.”
    “Where did you learn this fun fact?”
    “Oh, it’s well known. Ask any married mother.” She took a breath and looked up at him, a male stranger in her house. Her husband. Her heart jumped. She closed her eyes, thinking he might not affect her so much if she didn’t look at him. “Is part of