Chapter 2

"An open marriage."

The words hit me like a fist to the chest.

For a second, I went rigid, my towel digging into my palms so hard I thought it might rip. Water slid down my neck, too cold, too hot—I couldn't tell anymore.

Then I dragged a blouse over my damp skin, fumbling with the fabric like covering myself could shield me from the words hanging between us.

I must have misheard. I had to have. Right?

Sorry,” I said, my voice low, my heart beating in my ears. “What?”

"You heard me."

Edward didn't even stutter, as if detonating my life was no different than ordering wine at dinner.

I laughed. It was a sharp, ugly sound that didn't belong to me. "You're joking."

"No."

That was it. No speech. No apology. No emotion. Just a neat little wrecking ball swung through the middle of our bedroom. With the way he had said it, one would think it was perfectly reasonable to ask your wife to share you.

I gave a slow shake of my head, disbelieving. "You want to run that by me again? Because it almost sounded as though you just suggested you sleep with whomever you want while I sit here clapping, your well-trained seal."

He sighed, soft, patient. The kind of sigh men used when they thought women were overreacting. "Alicia—"

"Don't." My voice snagged. I hated that it did. "Don't you dare say my name like that. Like you're about to explain how this all makes sense if only I were smart enough to understand."

"This marriage was never about love," he said evenly, rolling his cuff with deliberate care. "It was an agreement. A contract. Nothing more."

And there it was.

A knife slid between my ribs, clean and smooth. That was all he thought of me.

It was no news, but my chest burned regardless...thinking that I could change that all these years.

My hands shook, but I yanked the zipper of my skirt into place anyway, as if finishing the act of dressing could hold me together when everything else was coming apart.

"You asked me to stay after the contract ended, Edward. You. Not me. You said I made you better. You said—" My throat closed, but the words came out anyway. "You said I completed you."

He looked at me then. Just for a second.

Something shifted in his eyes—something I hadn't seen once in this whole conversation. A shadow of regret. Maybe for the fight. Or maybe for letting me start to hope in something that was never really there.

"You didn't have to stay," he said finally. "You chose to."

I laughed again, low and bitter. "Yeah. Because apparently, I'm a world-class idiot."

I thought about my family. The debts. How I had sold my pride, my plans, my whole loathsome self because a man with a flawless smile had promised safety and money and maybe—just maybe—a future. And I hadn't seen any other way to help them.

And so I went with it.

The biggest mistake of my life. But wouldn't I make it again, and again, if it meant my sister could live? That mattered more than anything. More than my happiness. More than...my life put together.

I swallowed hard. "This is about her, isn't it?"

His head tilted slightly.

"Lucy," I said, the name a poison on my tongue. "The childhood crush. The one in the photo. The one who looked as though she'd walked off a runway while I stayed home like a damn fool."

He didn't answer.

Didn't deny it.

Didn't confirm it either.

Just stood there, immaculately silent, while something inside me coiled tighter and tighter until I could barely breathe.

"You're unbelievable," I whispered.

Edward's jaw flexed, the only crack in his polished armor. But his voice stayed maddening steady.

“Listen—”

"No," I cut him off, the word breaking in my throat. God, I was so tired. "You want an open marriage? Fine. Do whatever you want. You've got the money, the name, the press eating out of your hand. Go ahead. Burn the rest of it down."

I crossed the room, tearing open drawers, snatching clothes, chargers, shoes, anything I could carry. My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. I only needed some air, a chance to cool off, then I'd come back. Not like anyone actually gave two hoots about whether I was gone.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere you're not."

My bag wouldn't close. I didn't care.

"Alicia, be reasonable."

"You want to parade her around, and if I so much as say a word against it, suddenly I'm the unreasonable one?"

Nothing.

Not a word.

I shoved the last of my things inside and forced the zipper shut. My heels struck the marble like angry slaps as I walked out.

*******

The night air hit my face as I slid behind the wheel, but it didn't cool the fire crawling under my skin.

The city lights blurred past, fast and merciless, while my thoughts dragged me back.

Years of being the perfect wife. Convincing myself that the contract turning into something more wasn't all in my head. Believing, foolishly, that I mattered.

I should have left when the year ended. Taken the money. Saved my family. Walked away.

But no.

I didn't leave. Because I was stupid enough to want things you can't put in a contract.

The hotel lobby was glaringly bright, and stiflingly warm. People laughed over drinks, their lives faultlessly intact while mine fell apart in real time.

The receptionist gave me a polite smile as I fumbled through booking a room. I must have looked like a wreck.

Upstairs, I threw my bag on the floor and locked the door behind me.

Silence. The real sort. Not the sort people like Edward throw at you to make you look as if you're the one with the problem.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my chest rising and falling too fast, my body struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

My phone buzzed.

Edward.

I flipped it face down on the table. Let him wonder. Let him sweat for once in his glittering life.

Another buzz.

I shoved it in the drawer. What, did he think I'd had an accident? 'His wife sped out and crashed. Trouble at home?' I could already see the headline splash across every gossip site. I knew him that well—the only time he cared was when his reputation was on the line.

Well, thankfully, I was still in one piece.

Five minutes later, a knock came.

Three sharp raps.

Infuriated, I stood and yanked the door open. I hadn't ordered anything.

Edward stood there, rain on his shoulders, looking like sin in a half-unbuttoned shirt.

"We need to talk," he said, stepping inside.

I slammed the door shut again. "What is this? Mondays and Wednesdays for Lucy, weekends for me? Want to draw up a calendar?"

When I faced him squarely, his eyes lingered on me, mesmerizing as always. I forced myself to shake it off, now wasn't the time to let his gaze fool me again.

Before he could speak, his phone rang.

He frowned. Answered.

And for the first time all night, the calm fractured.

"Alicia," he said when he hung up, voice tight. "It's your sister. She collapsed. They took her to the hospital."