Chapter 1

When I pushed open the door, I saw a woman in my husband's shirt, with her son in her arms, sleeping in my bed.

When she saw me, she froze for a second, then pressed a finger to her lips, her voice soft, like she was the real lady of the house.

"Eddie just got the kid to sleep. He's got a fever, so keep your voice down," she said, acting like she owned the place.

That day was my third wedding anniversary with Edward.

The cake I'd ordered was still abandoned in the entryway, its box stomped flat by a pair of high heels. The words "Happy 3rd Anniversary" on the frosting were nothing but a pale, messy smear now.

I stood in the doorway, staring at the little boy on the bed. He looked about three years old. I then turned my gaze to Grace Sullivan.

I knew her. She was the woman Edward had kept hidden in his heart for years. The ex-girlfriend he had dated for four years, but never managed to marry.

I'd only ever seen her in that old photo at the bottom of his drawer. Long hair, white dress, standing next to a twenty-five-year-old Edward, smiling like she was a dream that never quite came true.

Now, that dream had taken over my bed, wearing my husband's shirt.

Edward came out of the bathroom, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, holding my light gray towel.

He paused when he saw me.

"You're back," he said.

I smiled, my tone even colder than his. "If I hadn't come back, would I have to make breakfast for all three of you tomorrow morning?"

*****

The air froze instantly.

Grace's eyes quickly reddened. She clutched the child tighter and whispered, "Connie, please don't misunderstand. I had nowhere else to go. My kid's got a high fever, and all the hotels were full. I just got back here, and Eddie's the only one I know in this city."

She called him "Eddie" with such ease. It was as if she'd never been gone.

Edward frowned and stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Grace's ex-husband keeps bothering her. It's not safe for her and the kid out there, so she'll stay here for a few days."

"A few days?" I echoed.

I looked at him, and suddenly, the absurdity of it all just hit me.

I said, "Edward, this is my home, not a shelter for strays. If you want to play the hero, take her to a hotel, your company apartment, or any of your other places, anywhere but here.

"You brought her into our master bedroom, let her sleep in my bed, and now you're saying she's only staying for a few days?"

Edward knew he was in the wrong, so his tone softened a bit.

"The kid's running a fever, and this room gets more sun. It's warmer for him. Why don't you sleep in the guest room tonight? I'll sort things out tomorrow," he said.

I stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. "Fine."

He visibly relaxed, like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders.

The next second, I bent down, grabbed his pillow and jacket from beside the bed, and stuffed them into his arms.

"She can have the master bedroom. You're sleeping in the study. Don't even think about sharing a bed with me tonight," I said.

Edward's face darkened. "Connie."

I looked at him. "What, is something wrong? You're not seriously going to let your precious first love have the master bedroom all to herself, are you?

"If her kid starts bawling in the middle of the night and her ex isn't here, you, the devoted ex-boyfriend, have to step up and play daddy, right? If you feel so wronged, maybe I should toss both of you out together?"

Grace bit her lip, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

She said, "It's all my fault. Don't fight with Eddie. Connie, if you're not happy, I'll take my son and leave right now."

She said she'd leave, but she didn't move an inch.

Even the way she held her kid looked like she'd done this a hundred times before, just waiting for someone to beg her to stay.

Sure enough, Edward grabbed her suitcase, his voice even colder than before. "Where are you going to take the kid at this hour?"

Then he turned to look at me. "Stop making a scene."

I stared at him for a couple of seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"Me? Making a scene?" I pointed at the woman and her kid on the bed, my tone light but sharp. "It's our anniversary. You stood me up, ignored my calls, ghosted my texts.

"Now you bring your ex and her kid into my bed, and you tell me not to make a scene? Edward, you really are quite the imaginative husband."

With that, I turned and walked away.

I didn't spare him another glance, nor did I bother with the ruined cake.

As I closed the door, I caught Grace's soft, delicate voice saying, "Eddie, don't let me come between you two."

I paused outside the door for a second, letting out a cold, mocking laugh.

She's already moved into our master bedroom, and she thought she had only affected our relationship.

That night, I slept in the guest room, but I didn't get a wink of sleep.

At two in the morning, I got up to get some water in the kitchen.

The living room was dimly lit by a single wall lamp. Edward was sitting on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, with a glass of water and some meds for the fever beside him.

Grace was sitting next to him, wearing my knit cardigan, her head bowed, quietly dabbing at her tears.

She said, "I didn't mean to intrude, but I really can't take it anymore. Adam's been hounding me for money again, threatening to take Tommy away if I don't pay up.

"I've been stuck in a cheap hotel near the airport since I got back. Tommy's fever shot up to 104 degrees, and I'm nearly broke. I can't even afford a hospital visit."

Edward handed her a tissue, his voice low and serious. "Forget about all that for now. The kid is what matters."

As Grace took the tissue, her fingers brushed lightly over the back of his hand.

It was a small gesture, but so intimate and practiced it was almost a slap in the face.

"Eddie." She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "If I hadn't left back then, would things have turned out like this?"

I froze right there.

Edward was silent for a few seconds, not saying a word.

And in that silence, I realized there had always been a crack in our marriage.

It didn't start today. Today was just the first time I finally saw it for myself.

I was a divorce lawyer. After six years in the business, I had seen all the warning signs before a marriage fell apart.

Phones went silent, texts dried up, he came home later and later, snapped at his wife, but he was always patient with another woman.

The real deal-breaker was when a man expected the wife to sympathize with the other woman.

I used to think my job made me paranoid, so I always tried not to bring those warning signs from work into my own marriage.

But that night, standing in the dimly lit living room, I finally realized even the ones who were best at helping others cut their losses could still turn a blind eye when it came to themselves.

Early the next morning, Grace was already in the kitchen.

Her hair was tied back, and she was wearing my off-white apron, standing at the stove, frying eggs.

The morning light streamed in, and the pan sizzled softly, making the whole scene look just like one of those perfect family magazine spreads.

When she saw me, she gave me a sheepish smile.

"I woke up early, and since I'm staying here, I thought I'd make breakfast for everyone. Hope that's okay with you?" she said.

I glanced at the mug on the table, the one that said "Mrs. Clark." She'd already filled it with milk.

Edward picked it up for me last year while he was away on business.

I didn't say a word. I walked over, took the mug, and poured the milk right down the sink.

The white milk spun down the drain in a slow swirl.

Grace froze.

I grabbed a fresh paper cup, filled it with water, and set it down in front of her.

"If you're just crashing here, use a paper cup. Don't mistake yourself for the lady of the house," I said.

Her face went pale.

Edward came out of the study just then, and when he saw what was happening, his brows knitted together.

"Connie, it's just a mug. Grace didn't mean anything by it," he said.

"Then I'm swapping it for a paper cup," I replied.

I washed the mug slowly and carefully, then put it back on the very top shelf.

I added, "After all, not everyone is entitled to touch certain things."

The atmosphere froze instantly.

Grace jumped in, "Eddie, please, don't say anything. It's all my fault. I'll be more mindful from now on."

Her backing down just made me look like the bad guy.

What a classic move. After all these years, some things never went out of fashion.

Halfway through breakfast, Tommy spilled his milk.

The milk went everywhere, soaking my court documents for today. The ink smeared all over, making a complete mess.

Before I could say a word, Edward had already scooped Tommy up in his arms.

"Did you get burned?" he asked.

I stared at the stack of soggy papers on the table, and suddenly, I couldn't bring myself to move.

That was a divorce case I'd been working on for three months. The hearing was today.

The client had been cheated on, had her assets siphoned away, and was forced out with nothing to her name. She'd gritted her teeth and held on for ninety days, and I'd been right there with her, finally managing to pull together every shred of evidence.

And now, all of it was ruined by a single cup of milk.

Grace jumped up, frantically grabbing tissues, nearly in tears.

"I'm so sorry, Connie. I should've watched him better. Let me help you wipe it off," she said.