CHAPTER 1

LOUISE

Istirred my fruity concoction, taking another sip as I eyed the woman in the low-cut dress sauntering past my bar stool. Oh, not for me.

No, I was scouting them out for my husband.

Not like that…get your mind out of the gutter.

I want him to date. We’re only a fake marriage, after all, and it wasn’t meant to last. We were doomed from the moment we said, “I do.”

It’s important to me that he has someone when I leave. Spencer Whitaker is a lovely gem of a man who helped me out when I needed it the most.

He deserved happiness, and he wasn’t going to find it with me. I had no romantic interest in him.

Six months into our little arrangement, and I was eager to break free.

Despite my resolve, soul-crushing guilt gnawed at me night after night, turning what were once restful slumbers into restlesshours staring at the ceiling. The weight of our impending separation, and what it meant for Spencer, burdened my conscience.

The door opened, a rush of warm, salty air sweeping past me as the next potential girlfriend walked through the door. My shoulders slumped. She was all wrong.

The attitude, the makeup, the fake tan. Spencer wouldnevertake to her.

After sucking up the last of my drink, I waved the empty glass in the air, a silent demand for another.

As I waited, I went over the details of my peculiar arrangement with Spencer. We’d married not out of love but convenience, each with our own motives. Mine was to secure an inheritance contingent on my marital status. His reasons were more obscure.

With my financial future secured, the reality of our arrangement loomed over us. If we couldn’t dissolve this marriage gracefully, we might both face consequences neither of us had anticipated.

I blew out a blubbering breath, flapping my lips as I twisted back to face the bar.

“Why the long face?” the bartender asked as he set down another fruity little number with a pink umbrella.

I tugged the little paper accessory from the drink and whirled it around. “Husband troubles.”

He clicked his tongue, his features pinching with fake concern. Typical bartender. “I can’t imagine a man not adoring the ground you walk on.”

“Your imagination must be lacking, then.”

He rubbed at the marble counter with his towel. What was it with bartenders and their constant cleaning? “I just…can’t imagine a man stepping out on a woman like you. You’re a knockout, and that accent is too cute.”

I offered him a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you appreciate my Southern sass, but the problem isn’t him stepping out on me.”

“Oh? Working too long hours?”

“No. He’snotstepping out on me. That’s the issue.”

The bartender’s cute features twisted with confusion. “I’m not sure I understand. You…wantyour husband to cheat on you?”

I lifted a shoulder as I dragged the skinny straw through the icy liquid. “Well, yes. I want him to be happy.”

“Maybe you should try counseling.”

I pressed my full lips together as I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, never mind. You don’t understand.”

The man shifted away from me, shooting me a sidelong glance filled with suspicion. It wasn’t difficult to understand.

Not if you knew my story, anyway.