Our Cheating Spouses

“I found out in March. The anniversary dinner was in April.”

Hannah stared at him. “You sat across from us and smiled through an entire dinner knowing what he was doing to me.”

“I sat across from you,” Andy said, and now he did look up, “and I thought about how unfair it was that he got to sit next to you every single night. And I never told him to stop, because I was collecting evidence instead of protecting you. And I’ve hated myself for that decision every day since I made it.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Hannah’s voice trembled, her words growing more unsteady as the alcohol dulled her restraint. “You could’ve told him to stop, for Christ’s sake. That first week in March.”

“Because I know my brother. Confront him without proof, and he’ll apologize, promise it’s over, then find a better way to hide it. I’ve watched him do it since we were kids…” Andy’s jaw tightened. “Well, at least before Mom took him away.”

He leaned back against the sofa, his expression hardening. “I wasn’t tried to protecting myself, Hannah. I was trying to make sure he couldn’t lie his way out of it a second time.”

Hannah looked at him and, beneath the tailored jacket, the carefully controlled expression, and the empire he’d been born into, she caught a glimpse of the boy she used to know.

“Where did you go?” she asked softly. “After school. You just… disappeared.”

She studied his face, searching for something familiar.

“One year, you were the boy drawing dinosaurs beside me in art class. Then, suddenly, you were a stranger in a magazine article about the Vaughn succession plan.”

Andy was quiet so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“My father decided I needed to stop being a child,” he said finally. 

“I looked for you,” she admitted. The confession felt strangely dangerous once it was out in the open.

“After university. I found a photo of you at some shareholder event, and you looked so… finished.” She gave a small, uneasy laugh. “Like a completed project. Like there wasn’t a version of you left who would remember sitting beside me and drawing dinosaurs.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. “So I stopped looking.”

Andy stared at her in disbelief.

So, all these years, he’d thought he’d lost Hannah for good. He’d convinced himself she didn’t care about him… that he was the only one who had looked back.

But he had tried, too. More than once.

The succession battle had been brutal back then, and everyone around him was looking for weaknesses. One reckless move, one obvious connection to Hannah, and she could have become leverage against him.

So he’d made the only choice he thought would keep her safe.

He hadn’t gone looking for her.

“I never thought you’d remember me,” Andy admitted.

“I never forgot you, Andy.” Hannah’s voice softened. “And, to be honest… I mistook Danny for you. But fate had other plans, and somehow, we ended up married.”

Andy stared at her. He had never heard this version of the story.

Danny had always gone on about how Hannah had fallen for him the moment she saw him. He’d said it so many times that Andy had never thought to question it.

But now… She had mistaken Danny for him?

What did that even mean?

“Did you just say…” Andy hesitated, searching for the right words. “That you would’ve married me if I’d found you first?”

Hannah only laughed.

Somehow, somewhere between that laugh and the warmth of the scotch, she drifted off.

Andy’s question went unanswered.

Hannah didn’t remember deciding to fall asleep. She remembered the warmth of the scotch, the low, steady sound of his voice beside her, telling her something about a fish tank, a parakeet, and some ridiculous childhood story she could barely follow.

At some point, she felt a blanket settle over her shoulders. And then came the thought. Marrying Andy instead of Danny.

Oh. She must be dreaming!

Hannah woke to gray morning light and a headache that announced itself before she’d even opened her eyes. 

For three merciful seconds she didn’t remember why she was lying on an unfamiliar couch in yesterday’s four-thousand-dollar dress.

Then she remembered everything, all at once.

She sat up. Painkillers and a fresh glass of water waited on the table, along with a folded blanket that wasn’t the one she’d fallen asleep under… swapped at some point in the night without waking her. 

Through the wall of windows, the sky over the river had gone the pale, bruised color of early morning. Somewhere behind her, a coffee machine finished its cycle.

Andy stood in the kitchen in yesterday’s dress shirt, sleeves rolled, tie long gone, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. He didn’t ask how she was feeling.

“There’s coffee,” he said. “And I called Danny’s assistant and told her you’re unreachable today. No one will bother you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice came out cracked. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Andy, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. I don’t know how you go back to a marriage after this. I don’t even know if I want to know where he is right now, because I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid if I see his face.”

Andy set two cups of coffee on the counter and came around to lean against it, arms crossed. 

The exhaustion from a moment ago was gone. This was a different Andy. The one she’d glimpsed for half a second in the car outside the Warrington—the one who was already three moves ahead, who had, she was beginning to understand, been three moves ahead since March.

“I don’t think you should go back to a marriage,” he said. “I think you should let them believe, for a little while longer, that they’ve already won.”

She lowered her hands. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means Danny and Gianna think this ends with a scandal and a settlement. I don’t think it should end that easily. Not for either of them.”

“And you have a plan for that.”

“I have the beginning of one.” Andy Vaughn looked at her the way he used to look at a blank page before he decided exactly what he was going to draw on it. “It means I have a proposal for you. And I don’t think you’re going to like how much you want to say yes.”