My Wife S Best Friend Novels & Stories

"It's just hard sometimes, you know?" "Of course it is. I've married before too and I know how hard it can be to fight for your husband's affections with his best friend. Let me warn you right now don't ever do that." Bethany got serious with Naomi. " Don't ever try to fight with your husband's friend. Because my love you will lose. Husbands will always choose their best friends over their suspicious wife."

I can't help but laugh. Her jaws clammed in a shocked manner. “You're not here to kill me?” “You're my wife's best friend. Of course not. I have come to tell you that you guys should hang out more…”

"...as long as you are willing to take him for your husband. Aurora's mind went blank. Things seemed to halt around her. Best friend of her father? The man was almost twice her age? The man she'd called Uncle Alex for all her life? No... That wasn't possible. There must have been some misunderstanding. Her lips trembled. What. did you just say?

I have the small things the best friends of women have on the mornings of the days the women the best friends are the best friends of are going to marry the men the best friends are the best friends of. I let Sophie in. Sophie is the small, quiet, very real person who is in the apartment of the man the best friend of the woman the best friend is the best friend of is going to marry the woman the best friend is the best friend of on the morning of the day the woman is going to marry the man. Sophie puts the bag on the bed. Sophie is the kind of best friend who puts the bags with the dresses on the beds of apartments of men on the mornings of the days the women the bags are the bags of are goi

, he said and I laughed. "Get this....Fred isn't my husband...he's just....", I said, stopping mid-sentence. I really didn't know what to say... A friend...we barely knew things about each other, I won't call that friendship. A fling....I just told him I was married. I guess the friend does sound better. "He's just a friend I haven't seen in a while, you happened to look like him just a little bit", I said. "And yes, and my husband had to step out, someone needed to see him.

"Well, you'll need to take good care of her then. After all, she's pregnant now, and that's not easy." I headed toward the door. "I'm running late, so I need to get back to the office." "Okay, drive safe." Hudson walked me to the door like the perfect husband. The moment the door closed, I leaned against the wall, gasping for air. I was such a coward for not confronting them right then and there. I had no idea how to deal with the fact that my beloved husband and my best friend had been sleeping together. My chest tightened, and it hurt.

Ten years ago, my ex-wife, Hailey Anderson, secretly signed an organ donation agreement without my knowledge. She donated the heart of our son, Jayden Smith, to her lover, Seth Parker’s dying son, Charlie Parker. When I arrived at the hospital, Jayden’s body was already in the cold morgue. Hailey was waiting outside another ward. She teared up in joy when Charlie regained his heartbeat. On the day of Jayden’s burial, I signed the divorce agreement. Then, I changed my name and left the city. After ten years of excruciatingly hard work, I specialized in cardiovascular surgery. Other than inventing the first fully implantable artificial heart, I also became the top surgeon globally.

I looked at him. Then at her. My best friend, Sophie, was clutching the white sheet against her chest, her hair tangled around her face. The same face I’d held while she cried about her heartbreak. The same woman I’d called my sister. The same woman who had stood beside me six months ago when I married the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. I laughed. I didn’t know why. Maybe because if I didn’t laugh, I would scream. “So this is why you kept telling me you were tired.”

“I never told you I was ready to make peace with you until you find my sister, she's supposed to be your wife,” “Be my wife on what grounds? This is a contract marriage, no feelings attached and if she wants to come back, she will.” I pushed him into the closet and slammed the door to his face and went downstairs to eat. “Hope all is well, Mr. Sinclair,” Mrs. Joyce asked. “What do you mean?” “I mean, your wife does know about the pets and that was a rude way to tell her, her stares are scary,” “This is my house, go get me food.” She bowed and left. I was thinking I was the only one who was scared of Nikolai's quiet stares that are unreadable.

My own hand was shaking so badly I was afraid she'd feel it. I turned back to my husband. "Say something. Anything. Tell them who I am." Lucien leaned back and spread his arm along the top of the booth. He looked at his friends. Then he smiled, slow and cruel. "Everyone," he said, loud enough for the tables around us to hear. "Meet my wife. She's very sweet. She cooks, she cleans, she waits. She waited four hours tonight, in fact, and now she's here to tell me off in front of my friends."