My Husband Pretended To Be Broke To Test Me

“Buddy,” Flynn said, tossing the word out like it was nothing.

The family of four filed out of the hospital and climbed into a modest sedan. Julissa was still wondering why Flynn had slid into the front when she saw his friend hurrying over and sliding behind the wheel.

Dalton shot Flynn a glance, then turned that easy grin on Julissa. “Hey, I’m Dalton Williamson—Flynn’s buddy. Got things squared away with your aunt.”

Julissa’s smile came instantly, warm and genuine. “Hi, I’m Julissa Greene. About what happened back there… I’m so sorry. Please don’t take it to heart.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Dalton said, starting the engine and pulling away from the curb.

The drive home stayed mostly quiet. The two kids entertained themselves, little murmurs and giggles filling the back seat as they sat on their best behavior. Julissa stole a few glances at Flynn, who sat stiff in the front, never once looking back. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. What was she supposed to say, anyway? Flynn’s silence only made the knot in her stomach tighter.

Thankfully, the hospital was close to their apartment complex, and they got there fast. Dalton walked them right up to the elevator, hands jammed into his pockets and a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’ve got some stuff to handle, so I’m not gonna come up with you guys.”

As the doors started to slide shut, Julissa blurted out, “Why not stay for dinner? After everything today, I kinda owe you.”

“Can’t do it,” Dalton said, already pressing the button to close the doors. “Rain check?”

The elevator hummed and sealed them inside. Julissa gave up pressing and risked a glance at Flynn beside her. She swallowed hard, then offered tentatively, “Um… your friend drove us home. You should probably thank him.”

Flynn shrugged off his jacket like the whole conversation bored him. “He didn’t do anything worth thanking.”

“He drove us home.”

“It’s my car,” Flynn shot back. He scooped his little sister into one arm, grabbed the luggage with the other, and strode out of the elevator like he owned the floor—which, honestly, he probably did.

For a split second, Flynn froze in the hallway, like he’d blanked on which apartment was theirs. Julissa rushed ahead, fumbling with the key before swinging the door open.

Inside, the two kids broke free, racing hand-in-hand toward the sofa, their laughter bright and carefree. Julissa checked the time. Still early.

“You hungry?” she asked Flynn. “Should I cook something? I mean, I haven’t been back in days—might not be much in the kitchen.”

She opened the fridge and stopped dead. It was fully stocked with fresh groceries. She spun around, finding Flynn hanging up his coat. “Did you buy all this?”

Flynn hadn’t had time to shop—he’d sent Dalton to do it. He tossed his jacket onto a chair and followed her into the tiny kitchen. “Who else would’ve done it?”

Julissa nodded slowly, piecing it together. She watched him wash his hands at the sink, and suddenly the kitchen felt too small. They were standing so close she could almost feel the heat radiating off him. Her heart jolted, speeding up for no reason she could name.

From where she stood, Flynn looked devastatingly handsome. But there was a hard edge to his jaw, a tightness around his eyes. Was he still pissed about what her aunt had said at the hospital?

Probably.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but Flynn had already turned to face her, something softening in his expression. “You know how to cook?”

Julissa nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Never mind, then. Go hang out with the kids. I’ll cook.”

Even though he’d married a girl barely into her twenties, Flynn wasn’t about to treat her like some kind of household servant. He wasn’t the type to let his wife carry all the weight.

Julissa blinked. “Wait—you can cook?”

“No,” Flynn admitted flat-out.

She hesitated, confusion flickering across her face. Flynn caught her eye. “Go. Be with the kids. I might not cook much, but I’m not gonna feed you raw food.”

Cooking was just another problem to solve. He’d pull up recipes, figure it out. There wasn’t a challenge in the world he couldn’t handle.

Still wavering, Julissa tried again. “I can cook, really. Maybe I should just—”

“I said go rest.” His voice came out like a command, sharp eyes pinning her in place.

Startled by the steel in his tone, Julissa scrambled out of the kitchen. Then something occurred to her and she snatched an apron from beside the fridge. She stepped in front of Flynn, rising onto her tiptoes to loop the strap around his neck.

“At least wear this. So your shirt doesn’t get ruined.”

Flynn towered over her; she had to stretch just to get the apron behind his back, fingers brushing against his sides as she tied it.

Flynn went quiet, completely caught off guard by the gesture—so warm, so almost… affectionate. Was she trying to reel him in that fast? Ha!

Like he’d fall for cheap tricks. That whole scene at the hospital with her aunt? It reeked of a scheme to squeeze money out of him.

Fine. He’d play along. Let her show her true colors—he’d see how long it took.

Once the apron was secure, Julissa didn’t linger, busying herself elsewhere. She couldn’t ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach whenever Flynn got close.

But even while she kept her hands busy, her eyes kept drifting back to the kitchen. A tiny, traitorous part of her hoped she’d actually get to taste a meal cooked by her husband tonight. After her parents died, she and Abel had stayed with their uncle’s family. She’d never once been on the receiving end of a home-cooked meal. She was always the one in the kitchen, day after day.

Right here, in this modest apartment, she finally felt the warmth of a home that was hers. Once she’d tidied the bedrooms and found nothing left to do, she joined her brother and sister in the living room, her heart still quietly humming.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Flynn had been at it for a couple of hours, eventually setting a family dinner on the table—several dishes, a pot of soup. The presentation wasn’t half bad. The taste? He hadn’t tried it yet.

He pushed the kitchen door open, carrying the food over, and cut a glance at the little crew in the living room. “Come wash up and eat.”

Julissa quickly scooped Kori off the couch, herding Abel toward the sink before they all settled at the table. When she saw the spread, she could barely believe it was Flynn’s first attempt.

It actually looked… good.

Abel licked his lips, eyes wide as saucers. “Sis, it looks so yummy. Brother-in-law’s really something, huh?”

Julissa smiled, getting Abel and Kori seated before reaching for the bread basket—only to have Flynn beat her to it, serving them with a smooth, almost practiced motion. “You sit, too. I’ve never really eaten at home before. This is my first time cooking, so I have no clue how it tastes. We’ll just make do.”

He could’ve easily taken the easy way out—had Dalton bring takeout, or just ordered delivery. But with kids in the house, takeout didn’t sit right. And he couldn’t just lean on Dalton to play delivery guy forever.

Looking around the table, the oldest of them was barely in their twenties. At his age, somebody had to step up. A month, tops. That’s how long he’d hold things down. After that, Julissa would get bored of this little simple life and ask for a divorce, releasing him from the whole arrangement.

He pushed a dish toward her. “Go on, taste it. Tell me what you think.”