Page 3 of Sins of a Husband

Ask questions.

Follow your gut. If your gut tells you to run, fake a phone call and get out.

And that’s precisely what I did. If my gut wasn’t feeling it, I would excuse myself to the bathroom, text her to call me in five minutes, and head back to the table. I only went on a date four times after that first year. Every man I thought was nice, my gut was telling me something else. I finally realized I wasn’t ready to date and deleted the app.

“How are you ever going to meet a man?” Samantha asks.

“Maybe the old-fashioned way?” My brow arches.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody meets the old-fashioned way anymore, Kat.”

Maybe she had a point, but I knew I wasn’t ready. When I was, the perfect man would come along—and he did—the old-fashioned way.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Oliver strides into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of wine from the rack.

He has never once complained about my cooking in our two years of marriage. But to be fair, there was nothing to complain about. I learned from my mom. She was the best cook I ever knew and shared her secrets and tips with me.

I reach into the cabinet and grab two white plates with gold trim. On each plate, I carefully place four perfectly seared scallops drizzled with lemon caper sauce, surrounded by steamed broccoli florets and a perfectly baked potato with two pats of butter and a dollop of sour cream.

“Dinner looks delicious, darling.” Oliver pours two glasses of red wine.

I carefully carry the plates to the dining table and set them down. We settled into our usual spots, ready to enjoy our dinner together.

“You know this is my favorite dish of yours.” He smiles, placing the linen napkin on his lap.

“I know.” I smile. “Consider it an early anniversary gift.”

“I can’t believe we’ll be married two years tomorrow. Where on earth has the time gone?” He shoves a scallop in his mouth and savors the taste. “I made a reservation for us at Daniel at six o’clock, and then we’ll head to Chelsea and visit the art gallery.”

“Sounds like fun. I can hardly wait.” I smile. “I told my boss I must leave the firm no later than four-thirty. That’ll give me enough time to come home and change.”

I’m bathingin our luxurious double bathtub with massage and ambient lighting. You’re probably wondering how a bathtub can massage you. A waterfall on each side of the tub jets out and massages the body. It really sealed the deal for me when we looked at the house. Oliver could have cared less until he bathed in it for the first time after we moved in. Sometimes, if he has a hard day at the office, he comes home, kisses me hello, tells me he had a hard day, and flies up the stairs to bathe before dinner.

I sit in the tub and count my blessings. After what happened back in Rockstead, I never would have believed this would be my life now—married to a handsome financial analyst, working at a prestigious law firm, and living in a five-million-dollar brownstone.

The bathroom door opens, and Oliver walks in, a handsome smile gracing his lips and a bottle of wine and glasses in his hands.

“Care for some company?” He holds up the wine bottle.

“I’d love some.” I smile.

Chapter Three

“You wanted to see me, Carter?”

“Kat, have a seat,” my boss, Carter Nelson, gestures. “Your work here over the last three years has been impeccable.”

“Thank you.” I smile, folding my hands in my lap.

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