Chapter 1

The day my wife's crush came back to town, I was in the kitchen wrestling with a bucket of crabs.

My sister-in-law, Emily Summers, was anxious. "Andrew, are you seriously not feeling threatened right now?"

I was confused. "Threatened by what?"

Marriage crisis, of course, she said. "Think about it. Charlotte's old crush is back in town, and she happens to be an ice-cold CEO. This is basically a tragedy novel starter pack."

I wanted to tell her she'd been binge-watching too many micro-dramas. Maybe she should take a break and uninstall that trashy romance app she was always scrolling through, for good measure.

But the words didn't make it out.

Because this marriage wasn't one I'd earned. It was one I'd been handed.

Charlotte Summers and I had done everything a couple would do.

But in three years, I'd never once heard her say she loved me.

*****

Charlotte was a well-known businesswoman in Riverdale, cold-faced and cold-hearted in her dealings.

Three years ago, her grandfather David had fallen critically ill. He'd insisted she get married, saying she needed someone to look after her.

I'd just gotten back from out of town back then, selling muffins outside the Summers residence while carrying a red plastic bucket on my back.

David ate my muffins for three straight days and said I had solid cooking skills and a steady temperament.

On the fourth day, he told Charlotte to marry me.

Charlotte didn't object.

She only said to me, "Don't expect me to love you."

I said, "Fine."

And that was how we ended up married for three years.

Emily stared at the crab claw in my hand and banged furiously on the kitchen door.

"Andrew, why are you still scrubbing crabs? Nathan will be here this afternoon," she said.

"Why is he coming?" I asked.

"Charlotte invited him over for dinner."

I pushed the crab back down into the basin. "We have to feed guests when they show up."

Emily stamped her foot in frustration. "He is no guest. He's the guy Charlotte had a seven-year-old crush on."

I nodded. "Oh."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

Emily snatched the scrub brush right out of my hand. "Go upstairs right now. Put on a suit, spray some cologne, and straighten your wedding ring. And hide that red bucket of yours. Do not let Nathan see it under any circumstances."

I glanced down at the red plastic bucket sitting in the corner. Faded paint spelled out a fertilizer advertisement across its side.

Inside it were my coin pouch for grocery shopping, an old apron, and a pair of rain boots.

"So what if he sees it?" I asked.

Emily ground her teeth. "If he finds out you're Charlotte's husband and still haul around something like that, he will totally laugh at you."

Linda, my mother-in-law, spoke from outside the kitchen door. "Nobody gets to laugh at Andrew."

She held a rolling pin in one hand and a bowl of freshly washed vegetables in the other, her expression extremely grim.

Emily immediately turned to tattle on me. "Mom, Nathan is coming, and Andrew still isn't worried."

Linda tossed the vegetables onto the cutting board. "What has he got to worry about? That jerk Nathan should be the one sweating bullets."

I picked the crab back up. "Linda, would you prefer steamed or fried crabs?"

Linda's voice softened all at once as she looked at me. "Andrew, don't lose your temper today."

I smiled. "Why would I?"

Her gaze drifted toward the red bucket in the corner, and she looked as if she had a bone stuck in her throat. "And don't go moving that stuff around either."

The crab in my grasp nearly scrambled free. "I'm just making dinner," I said.

Linda didn't relax. Instead, she tightened her grip on the rolling pin. "You can cook, but stay away from that bucket."

Emily nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Andrew, keep your distance from that bucket today."

I was about to tell them they were blowing everything out of proportion when the front-door bell rang.

Emily darted toward the entryway like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

As soon as the door swung open, the scent of roses drifted in first.

Nathan Goodwin stood in the doorway, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black dress pants. He held a huge bouquet of red roses, with two people carrying gift boxes trailing behind him.

He spotted me in my apron, clutching a crab in my hand, and gave a faint smile. "You're Charlotte's husband?"

"That's me," I said.

He held the roses toward the house, his eyes sliding right past me to Charlotte, who had just come down the stairs. "Charlotte, I'm back."

Charlotte wore a black dress with her hair pulled up, no trace of a smile on her face.

She glanced at the roses. "Leave them by the door."

Nathan's smile froze for a split second.

Emily darted forward and planted herself in front of me. "Nathan, you didn't have to bring flowers. That's over the top."

Nathan said gently, "Emily, you're still as blunt as ever."

Linda stormed out from the kitchen and rapped her rolling pin hard against the shoe cabinet. "Save the small talk. Don't act like you're old pals with Emily."

Nathan finally turned his gaze to me. "Quite the lively household you've got here."

I dropped the crab back into the basin and washed my hands.

"Come on in and have a seat," I said. "Dinner will be another half-hour."

He smiled.

"Thanks for going to all this trouble," he told me. His tone was nothing like a guest speaking to his host; it sounded more like the man of the house addressing a hired cook.

Charlotte looked over at me. "Andrew."

I thought she was going to offer some kind of explanation.

However, she said, "Nathan has stomach issues. Don't make anything spicy."