: The Bar

I look at Ryan, then Emily. “I don’t understand.”

Ryan doesn’t even look at me, just grabs Emily’s hand and starts leading her away. “Stop being such a bad host, Julie. We’ve had a long day.”

“No way, Ryan. She’s not staying in this house,” I say, my voice shaking with disbelief.

He doesn’t respond. They’re already halfway up the stairs.

“Do you hear me? She’s not staying here! Take her back to wherever you picked her up. I don’t want her in my house.”

Ryan stops, turning just enough to glare at me. “Your house? I put a roof over your head. If I say she’s staying, she’s staying. If you don’t like it, go somewhere else. I don’t have the energy for your nonsense, Julie.”

Oh, my god. My chest tightens. “How could you do this?” I say. “Don’t walk away from me, Ryan. Stand here and answer me.”

Emily turns to look at me, smirking. “By the way, you’ll need to move your things into the guest room. I’m not sharing a bed with you and Ryan. It’s bad enough sharing him with you.”

All the energy in me evaporates. I just stand there, speechless. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I hear them whispering and giggling as they head into our bedroom. My room. They’re kicking me out of my own room.

The living room suddenly feels too small.

I stumble to the front door, fling it open, and run outside, needing to escape. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t be here.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” Justin, Ryan’s bodyguard, asks as I approach, breathless. He’s wiping down Ryan’s Rolls-Royce, eyeing me with concern.

I hold out my hand. “The keys.”

“Ma’am?”

“The damn keys, Justin.”

He hesitates for a second, but hands them over. I know he’s wondering why I need Ryan’s car when I have my own. Honestly, I don’t know either. But if I stay here for one more second, I might lose it completely.

“Mrs. O’Brien, let me drive you—”

“No, Justin. I’ll drive myself.”

I pull out of the driveway and speed off into the night.

~~~

It’s been over an hour, and I’m still driving aimlessly. My mind is a blur of everything—Ryan, Emily, their smug faces. Initially, I’d planned a Saturday evening manicure and pedicure, just to get my mind off things. Things that involve Ryan. But I’m no longer in the mood to get my feet and hands pampered. It’s not even been two days since he dropped that bombshell about an open marriage, almost giving me a heart attack, and now he’s bringing his mistress over? Emily? The same Emily?

The craziest thing is I can’t cry. I feel nothing. No tears, no anger—just this hollow emptiness. The last therapist I spoke with said it’s a defense mechanism. That I’m in denial of my actual emotions. Cry it out, Julie, she used to say. Let yourself be free of the burden.

Well, they can all go to hell. Ryan. Emily. The therapist. My entire family.

I know what I need. A drink.

I pull into the nearest bar and head inside.

“A shot of whiskey,” I tell the bartender. “Neat. And keep them coming.”

“Long night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

He pours the first shot, and I throw it back, welcoming the burn in my throat. It’s harsh, but it’s better than the alternative—thinking about what’s happening back home.

As I down my second shot, I hear someone call out, “Maggie! Maggie!”

I turn, confused, and see a tall, handsome man approaching me, his eyes locked on mine. Before I can react, he’s wrapping his arms around me. “Thank God I found you,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

I stiffen. “Who the hell are you?”

“Please, just go along with it,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”

Before I can push him away, a furious-looking woman storms over.

“Luke! I knew it. You can’t hide from me.”

The stranger—Luke, apparently—turns to face her, still keeping his arm around me. “Veronica, what a surprise,” he says, feigning nonchalance.

“My name isn’t Veronica, it’s Evelyn.”

Luke flashes her a sheepish smile. “Right, sorry. I get those mixed up sometimes. Anyway, this is Maggie—my wife.”

He lifts my hand, showing off my wedding ring, and I nearly choke. What is happening?

Evelyn glares at me. “You married this scumbag?”

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod.

“You should divorce him,” she snaps. “He spends one night with you and disappears the next. Who does that?”

“But that's what we agreed on. A one-night st—” Luke begins, but Evelyn cuts him off.

“Fuck you, Luke.”

And with that, she storms off, leaving the two of us standing there, stunned.

Luke breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, that one was a stalker. At least she's off my back now.” He turns to me, smiling. “Can I buy you a drink? You’ve definitely earned it.”

I stare at him and then stare at the spot where the angry lady once stood. It all happened so fast. I can't even process it. I think I need that drink.

“Make it two,” I say.

And Luke smiles.

: The Deal

~~Luke~~

Lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of beauties.

But the lady beside me is something else. Not only is she the prettiest thing I’ve seen, but she’s married. Some men are just lucky.

“So, I’m guessing your name isn’t Maggie?” I ask, trying to ease the tension.

“No,” she replies flatly.

I nod, waiting for her to give me something more. “So, what is it?”

She gives me a slow, deliberate look. I can’t lie, wherever her eyes touch immediately burns.

“Look,” I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not hitting on you. Honestly, I’m taking a break from women. They’re problematic.”

She lets out a laugh, a bitter one. “You’re the one who just hugged a stranger to dodge another woman you’ve clearly wronged, and you’re saying we’re the problematic ones? You men are all the same.”

She downs her drink like it’s water and winces at the burn. That’s her second shot in less than five minutes. I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.

“Let’s start over,” I suggest, offering her a fresh start. “I’m Luke.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I caught that. Your ‘problematic’ ex wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“She's not my ex,” I say.

“Whatever.”

Great, another woman convinced I’m the villain. Not even five minutes in and she’s already pegged me as the problem. I guess I deserve that one.

“So, are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, trying again.

I can tell she’s got money just by looking at her. She’s probably an heiress or the wife of some big-shot businessman. Those Louboutins, the Rolls-Royce keys sitting on the bar, and that dress—all of it screams wealth. Maybe that’s why she’s not keen on giving me her real name.

“You don’t have to tell me your last name,” I say with a grin. “But you look like you could use someone to talk to. Since you just saved my ass back there, I figure it’s the least I can do.”

She watches me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally relenting. “Julie. My name’s Julie.”

“Nice to meet you, Julie,” I say, extending my hand.

She takes it.

~~~

Julie’s on her fifth glass of whiskey, and at this point, she’s unstoppable, pouring out her life story like we’ve known each other for years. I’ve already told the bartender to cut her off, but she hasn’t noticed yet.

“...So, I’m standing there, and they’re both going upstairs. To my room. And do you know what the bitch says?” Julie doesn’t wait for me to reply. “She says I need to move out of my room. My room.” She laughs so hard that she starts coughing. And then, just as suddenly, she’s sobbing.

I don’t know what to do. How do you comfort someone else’s wife without crossing a line?

“Julie,” I say. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head. “I need another drink.”

“No, you don’t.”

She frowns at me. “What? You think I need one more person telling me how to live my life? You can all go to hell. I said I need a drink.” She taps her empty glass against the bar, but the bartender, Mart, knows better than to disobey me.

“Sorry, I own the bar, and I can’t let you drink anymore,” I say.

Her eyes narrow. “Oh, you own the bar? Good for you. I’ll find another one.”

She tries to stand, but I step in her path.

“Listen, Julie, I know you’re hurting, but this isn't the way to go about it. Have you thought about divorce?”

For the first time, her eyes soften, and she slumps back onto the barstool. “I can’t. I don’t want to be a disappointment to my family. They depend on Ryan’s money.”

I let out a snort. “Screw them. It’s your life. No one should make you feel like this.”

She gives a sarcastic smile. “Easy for you to say, Mr. I-own-the-bar.”

I’ve seen people like Julie before, people who won’t leave a toxic relationship because, deep down, they still love the person. She’s saying it’s because of her family, but I can tell it’s more than that. She’s not ready to let go of him. Love does that to you—it makes you hold on even when you shouldn’t. I know that feeling all too well.

What kind of solution could I possibly suggest that wouldn’t involve me physically dragging her out of the marriage?

Suddenly, an idea hits me. “You know what?” I say. “You need to get yourself a boyfriend. Someone to introduce to Ryan.”

“A boyfriend?” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

It sounds like a stupid plan, but one thing I know about guys who cheat is that they can't stand being cheated on. It’ll drive him crazy. I’m hoping it leads to Ryan divorcing her, since she’s too chicken to do it herself.

“It doesn’t have to be a real relationship,” I add. “Just hire someone to play that role until Ryan comes back to his senses.”

Julie’s quiet for a moment, turning the idea over in her head. “That’s actually not bad,” she says, surprising me. “Are all bar owners this good at giving advice?”

I laugh. “We try.”

“Okay, but where am I supposed to find this ‘boyfriend’?”

Without thinking, I blurt out, “I could do it.”

Her eyes flicker over me again, slower this time. “You?”

“It’s easier than hiring someone. No need to go through the hassle of finding the right guy, making sure he knows what he’s doing. I’m single, not looking for a relationship, and I like a little adventure. I’d be perfect for the job.”

She studies me, weighing her options. After a moment, she says, “You are good-looking too.”

I raise an eyebrow, but she cuts me off.

“Don’t ask.” She pulls out her phone. “So, how much is this going to cost me?”

I hadn’t thought about money. I don’t need it, but if I offer to do it for free, it might seem weird.

“How much are you willing to pay?” I ask, playing along.

She glances around the bar, one arm raised as if to appraise the place. Her diamond ring catches the light, sparkling like it’s worth a fortune.

“Your bar’s decent,” she says. “What does it make? Two hundred thousand a year? Maybe five?”

I stay silent.

“I’ll double that,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “The two hundred?”

“The five hundred.”

Wow. She’s serious. “Deal. But I’ll only take the money after we pull it off.”

She extends her hand. “Deal.”

I shake her hand, her skin soft against mine. I then pull out a pen and scribble my number on a napkin. “Call me when you’re ready.”

She tucks the napkin into her purse and gives me one last look before heading out of the bar. I'm right behind her, escorting her toward a sleek Rolls-Royce.

“You sure you can drive?” I ask.

“I’m not that high, Luke.”

“Alright,” I say. “Give me a call.”

She drives off into the night.

I feel so guilty for letting her leave in that state. But what else could I do? I head back into the bar, already wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

: Breakfast News

~~Julie~~

Ugh, my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

I crack my eyes open and glance around. I’m in my living room, but I can’t for the life of me remember how I got home last night.

Shit, Ryan’s car.

I scramble to the window, heart racing, and peek outside. There it is, still parked in the driveway. Thank God. Ryan would have been so pissed if I’d wrecked it.

I need a shower. And definitely a toothbrush. My mouth tastes like something died in it.

I drag myself upstairs, but as soon as I push open the master bedroom door, I freeze. Emily is on top of Ryan, both of them completely naked, moving in sync. Their panting fills the room.

I scream.

Emily yelps and tumbles off him, scrambling to cover herself.

“Jesus Christ, Julie,” Ryan mutters, sitting up and glaring at me. “Ever heard of knocking?”

I want to tell him I’ve never had to knock in my own house, let alone my own bedroom, but what’s the point? “I just came to grab my things.”

“It’s already done,” Emily snaps. “Everything you own is in the guest room.”

I nod stiffly and close the door. If I stay in this hallway a second longer, I might decide to walk back in there with a knife. So I climb down the stairs slowly, counting down from ten. You’ve got this, Julie. You’re doing great.

When I get to the guest room, I see Emily’s handiwork. My things are scattered everywhere—on the floor, on the bed, like some chaotic display of disrespect. I’m too tired and hungry to deal with it now.

In the shower, I let the hot water wash over me, willing it to cleanse the pain of yesterday, today, and whatever fresh hell tomorrow brings. The sound of the water is like white noise, drowning out the sobs I refuse to let out. I won’t cry for Ryan. I won’t cry for Emily.

“Martha?” I call, heading into the kitchen where our cook is busy with breakfast.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Martha says, glancing over. “Hope you slept well?”

“Like a baby,” I lie. “I’m starving, though.”

“I’ll bring your food in a moment. Please, take a seat.”

A few minutes later, she sets a plate in front of me, and I blink, surprised. Just a few pieces of lettuce and some sad-looking greens.

“Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“The new missus says we’re no longer allowed to cook high-calorie meals,” Martha explains, looking nervous. “I told her you had a meal plan, but Mr. O’Brien said I’d lose my job if I didn’t follow Ms. Emily’s orders.”

Of course. The little snake is starting a war. First, she takes my husband. Now, she’s messing with my kitchen. Game on.

“That’s fine, Martha. You’re just doing your job.”

I stare at the plate of greens, my stomach growling. I force a bite down, trying not to gag. It’s no wonder Emily’s so tiny—she eats like a rabbit. I try to finish it out of respect for Martha, but every bite feels like torture.

My mind drifts back to last night. Should I call Luke? How are we even supposed to pull off this fake boyfriend plan?

I grab my phone and shoot him a quick text, saving his number under Luke Escort. “Hi, it’s the drunk rich lady from last night. Just letting you know I got home safely, and no scratches on the car. I’ll be in touch about our plan. Cheers.”

I hit send.

Within seconds, his reply comes in. “Who?”

Oh, my god. He doesn’t remember me. Now that’s awkward.

But then he sends, “Kidding. I’ll keep my fingers crossed, Julie.”

Ugh. He’s insufferable.

Just then, I hear footsteps on the stairs. Ryan and Emily appear, hand in hand, looking smug.

“Good morning, Julie!” Emily chirps, smiling too brightly. Her teeth look expensive. “How was breakfast?”

I return her smile. “Delicious. Exactly what I needed. You’re right, we should all be eating like New Yorkers—everyone’s so tiny these days, they might start building smaller doors.”

Emily giggles, clearly missing my sarcasm. “That’s so true, Julie! Martha, we’re ready for our breakfast too.”

Martha brings them the same sad plate of greens she gave me. I smirk as Ryan takes a bite and immediately struggles not to spit it out.

“You like it, babe?” Emily asks.

Ryan nods, chewing reluctantly. “Yeah, it’s… nice.”

Perfect. Now, time to give him something else to choke on.

“You know,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I realize I gave you a hard time, Ryan. You didn’t deserve that.”

He glances at me warily, sensing something’s off.

“You’re my husband,” I continue, keeping my tone sweet. “And everyone’s entitled to their desires, even if they don’t make sense. So, I’ve decided I’m fully on board with this arrangement.”

Ryan doesn’t look comfortable. After all these years, he knows when I’m bullshitting.

But Emily does not. She seems genuinely relieved. “That’s great to hear, Julie! I mean, humans were never meant to be monogamous.”

“Is that so?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely. From the beginning of time, our ancestors were explorers.”

Right. Biology lessons from the woman sleeping with my husband. Fascinating.

“Exactly why I’ve decided to do some exploring myself,” I say, watching their faces closely. “I’ve found myself a boyfriend.”

Ryan freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. Emily’s smile falters.

“Boyfriend?” Ryan asks, his voice tight.

I grin, enjoying the moment. “That’s right, honey. I figure it’s only fair. If you’re going to explore, so am I.”