“What?” I ask when she makes no move to order the food.

With an evil little grin, she holds out her hand. “Card, please.”

Right. I dig in my back pocket for my wallet and pull out my black credit card.

She takes it with a wink. “Thanks,babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

But she’s already gone, out of earshot of my griping.

Running my fingers through my hair, I eye the boxes in the corner. I could get started on unpacking my clothes, but I’ve had enough packing for one day. Downstairs, I find Rosie sitting on the marble island in the kitchen, kicking her legs lazily back and forth while she scrolls on her phone.

“What are you doing?”

Without looking up from the device, she smiles. “Looking at paint colors online.”

Of course.

I shuffle toward the refrigerator. The thing is giant. Inside one full-size door is the fridge, and inside the other is an enormous freezer. I’m sure it’s a chef’s dream—we have a similar setup at my dad’s house—but it’s a bit much for a townhouse outside of Nashville. Especially for two college-age kids.

“We need groceries,” I mutter, eyeing the empty shelves before me.

“Mhm,” she hums, legs still swinging. “I’m too tired to deal with it tonight. I’ll go tomorrow.”

“You won’t know what I like.”

She looks up from her phone, leveling me with a glare. “Then we’ll both go, crybaby.”

This woman. I can’t win with her.

“We should go tonight.”

She closes the app on her phone with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

Without my permission, my eyes drop to the swells of her breasts. Her position causes them to press against her sweater, emphasizing them. I shouldn’t be staring at her boobs, but I can’t seem to look away.

“Eyes up here,” she commands, using two fingers to point from her eyes to mine. “Did you not listen to what I said? I’m tired, and the pizza is already on the way. It won’t be the end of the world if we go in the morning.”

“Fine,” I say, because she’s right, even if it feels weird not having a single item in the fridge. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Thank you for seeing sense.” She hops off the counter and tucks her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

Jeans that hug her ass like a second skin.

Stop staring!

Jaw clenched, I inhale through my nose, then hold the air in my lungs. It’s going to be a long… what? Year? Couple of years? Regardless, our time together will be painful if I keep checking out my wife.

“Have you heard anything from your lawyer?”

“Nothing except her chewing me out over the video.” Stomach twisting, I scrub a hand over my face. Dammit, I’m such a fuck-up. Getting drunk that night was the worst decision I’ve probably ever made, behind letting myself have such a public meltdown. Everything came to a head for me in that moment—the battle for my son, Rosie, my friends being nonexistent in my time of need—and I just lost it.

But I can’t afford tolose itwhen I’m facing what looks to be a brutal court battle.

We haven’t addressed the video much, Rosie and me, except for my apology. Since then, she hasn’t brought it up. Regardless of our lack of conversation about it, I hurt her. Rosie might be a strong girl, but words can cut the deepest, and I know mine did just that when I said I hated her. The feeling is mutual, but that doesn’t make my tirade okay. Especially when I’m the one who begged her to marry me.

I haven’t talked to my lawyer about how she’s going to play that whole thing off, but she’ll figure something out. If I even consider an alternative, I’ll spiral into an even more stressed-out and anxious version of myself, and that’s saying a lot, because for the last couple of months, I’ve been nothing but a ball of nerves and anger. Every time I get a call lately, the urge to puke hits me. When my phone rings, my natural response is to freak out, sure that the video is finally coming back to haunt me even more than it already does. Nina has done her best to scrub it from the internet, but there’s no way to erase every last trace of it.