Chapter 2

My chest is a hurricane, but I swallow every word trying to claw its way out. I just give a soft "Mm-hm."

One of the bridesmaids grabs Vanessa's wrist, eyes wide, staring at the diamond bracelet glittering there.

"Vanessa, you lucky bitch. Ryan dropped serious cash on this. What is that — six figures?"

"He insisted." Vanessa traces her fingers over the stones, her smile spreading on its own. "He said you only get married once, so why not go all out."

Something inside me cracks wide open.

When Ryan and I got married, I had nothing. Not a single piece of jewelry.

I'd suggested we at least get matching wedding bands — something to mark what we were to each other.

He'd waved me off. "Why blow money on that? You can't eat a ring, babe. And you're not one of those high-maintenance girls."

When my face fell, he softened. "Give me a couple years, babe. I'll get you something really nice. I promise."

And he did — sort of. Every year at bonus time, he'd buy me a gold bar. Said it was our safety net. Mine and our son's "rainy day fund."

Wait.

Where the hell did he get the money for a six-figure bracelet?

Every paycheck goes straight to me. His bonus is a known number. I've seen the stubs.

Before I can finish that thought, another bridesmaid pipes up, voice dripping with envy. "I heard his company's been killing it — he pulls in over a million a year just in equity dividends. He could buy you ten of those bracelets and not even blink."

Equity dividends.

Over a million a year.

We've been married for almost six years, and I'm hearing about this for the first time.

What Ryan brings home every month? About four and a half grand after taxes. He hands me four thousand and keeps the rest for "work stuff — drinks with the guys." I never questioned it. Not once.

Meanwhile he's been pulling in seven figures on the side.

Vanessa turns to look at me.

"You work with Ryan, right? You'd know what he actually makes. Come on — just between us girls. I want a number in my head so he can't hide money from me later."

A dull knife, twisting slow between my ribs.

What does he make? Honey, you'd know better than me.

The real money went to you. A six-figure bracelet I couldn't have dreamed of. Million-dollar dividends I didn't even know existed.

And you're asking me?

My lip twitches. I almost lose it.

Vanessa must catch something on my face because she rushes to smooth things over.

"No worries if you don't know! Forget I asked."

She tilts her head. "Actually — I've met most of Ryan's coworkers. You're a new face. You must've just started?"

I push the storm down.

"Yeah. Pretty new. Honestly, I have no clue what Ryan makes."

One of the younger bridesmaids sighs dramatically. "Your man is unreal, Vanessa. Hot, rich, and he doesn't smoke? What kind of fairy tale are you living?"

Vanessa laughs. "Oh, he used to smoke. He quit on his own — wants a honeymoon baby, so he tossed the whole pack."

My phone almost slips out of my hand.

When I was pregnant — the worst two months of morning sickness — one whiff of cigarette smoke sent me straight to the toilet. I begged him to quit. He told me it was impossible. Client dinners, networking, stress — he couldn't do it.

Then three months ago, out of nowhere, he changed. Threw every pack in the trash. Told me he was finally doing it — for me and our son. No more secondhand smoke in this house.

I cried. I hugged him. I thought he loved us.

He wasn't quitting for me. He wasn't quitting for Noah.

He was quitting because she wanted a baby.

Vanessa gives me a sheepish little smile. "Sorry — the girls get wild. Don't mind us."

My head is a roaring mess — waves crashing, sirens blaring — and before I can stop myself, the words rip out of me.

"You really trust him that much? What if he's got a whole other family you don't know about?"