My Husband Faked His Death Chapter 12

My Husband Faked His Death Chapter 12

As soon as I said that, Ryan pulled out a pen and handed it to me. I remembered how he’d made me grab the contract myself, rolled my eyes inwardly, but took the pen and signed without hesitation.
“To celebrate our partnership, let me take you to dinner?”
I didn’t refuse. Since we were going to work together, there was no reason to say no.
Ryan parked in front of an Italian restaurant. I froze when I saw the name.
He stood behind me. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like pasta?”
“I haven’t had it in four years…”
For the four years I’d been with Jake, he didn’t eat dairy. He thought cream and cheese were too heavy. To make things easier, I never made pasta at home, and I steered clear of Italian restaurants when we ate out.
Ryan tugged on my hood and laughed. “Then let’s celebrate your divorce. You’re having carbonara—for the first time in four years.”
I laughed too, and without hesitation, ordered a whole table of food.
Over dinner, we talked about the details of the partnership. It was a pleasant evening.
By the time we finished, it was completely dark.
Ryan insisted on driving me home.
But as soon as we reached my door, we saw an unwelcome visitor. Jake was crouched on the doorstep, shivering in the cold. When he saw me, his eyes lit up.
“Mia, you’re back!”