Mae Whitman Husband Novels & Stories

Of course I knew him. Everyone did. His face was impossible to avoid. Even hearing his name made people lower their voices. Mia stared at me for another second before laughing. “I can’t believe this. You truly have no idea who your husband is?” My throat felt dry. The truth settled over me piece by piece. Because the man I had married was Damian Hawthorne. The former military commander.

“She’s his assistant. That’s her job to hover around him.” Mauve lifts her brows. “Mm. Maybe.” Her tone remains light, but it lingers like a hook in my skin. Then it darkens. "But you should watch out. It's just peculiar to me because Mr Dad left my Mom for his assistant. It was just like that between them." She states and I'm thrown off by the intense bitterness in her statement. "Mauve–" But she doesn’t hear me. She’s already turning and her face lights up when she spots the person she's looking for. “Oh....there’s my husband.”

Why was he still texting her? Maia replied to him quickly. “That won’t be necessary. I can go back to Prismara Hill by myself.” “We have to keep up the act. How can I, your husband, not pick you up after work?” She conceded that he had a point. “Did you just say you’re my husband? What nonsense are you talking about?” They were business partners, at most! Maia tucked her phone away after replying to Cedric and wound down the car window to take in some fresh air.

When Maeve squinted her eyes towards him, he suddenly bursted into laughter. "I thought you said it was good last night?" He asked, making his wife more furious. "Because it was!" Maeve was whining like a kid who just got home to complain to his mom how much his toothache aches. It was childish. All of her whining was. But still, he keeps on wanting to see more of it. It was such a good lazy Sunday. "Shhh. I'm sorry," Maeve's whining stopped when her husband pulled her towards him to let her head rest on his shoulder while his arm were over her shoulder too.

It isn't locked. Of course! Her husband was a free spirit who hardly cared about his life. Sleeping in a stranger's house was bad enough. Mrs Contreras opened the door and crept in. Her husband was sadly snoring away. It's 6 for goodness sake. She ruffled her husband badly to get him up as quick as she could. There was no time to waste if Ema ever had a past here, it was foolish to keep staying anywhere that could trigger back her lost memories.

My Husband's Older Brother (1) MARIANNE I was married to Ethan and he was a very kind man who never raised his voice at me and provided for the family. He never raised his voice at me and always helped with small things around the house like washing dishes or taking out the trash. He worked at an office job and came home at the same time every day. People said I was lucky to have him. But deep inside, I felt something was missing.

“Call your charade with this woman off, Ethan.” Not a sound came from both men, like they were staring at each other down waiting for one to yield. “When I first met Mae I didn’t think she was perfect, I still don’t. Maybe that’s why I’ve been waited this long to break the news. But she’s different. She’s kind, cares for her family deeply and puts them first even when it’s at her own detriment. I would make no better choice in a wife. And you make it sound like falling in love is a guarantee for a long happy marriage, we both know better; it takes a whole lot more than that.”

Imogen spat. He noticed the confused grimace on Maze's expression and the visible hesitation to ask what he had already read on her face. He smiled bitterly saying, "She was not my father's wife rather just a dancer who used to work in one of many Mcmaster bars. All her life she was too crazy after the title of *the Wife of Mr.Macmaster.*," He again laughed sending a chill down her spine. "But her love was inferior in front of my father's real wife. My mother beat me, starved me for days, even tortured me in every single way just to get the attention of my father. Even after her death that five years me, wasn't spared of the bitterness of my fate.

“I don’t want to be known as a Whitman. I don’t see them as family. And I don’t want the world associating me with them either.” “That’s understandable, one thing I'm glad about is that I'm not going to be addressed by Mrs Whitman when we get married that would have made me sick and reminded me of Jason” “Well….sorry to cut your joy short but Whitman is what is going to be written on the marriage certificate because of the will but every other person would address you as Mrs Dawson” “If it's just going to be on the marriage certificate, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I'm not called that in the long run, it's still a win-win for me”

Arthur spent the next two months in a drunken stupor. Then, he started leaving the house more often before returning home, looking exhausted. My soul was getting weaker, and I couldn't withstand direct sunlight. I had no idea what he did whenever he went out. Late one night, he suddenly left the house. I followed him to a gravestone in a cemetery. My photo was on it, and I saw the words engraved on it. "Here lies Leona Barton, wife to Ian White."