Chapter 2

My phone buzzed again, vibrating against the cold metal of the park bench. I ignored it. But it buzzed again, and again, a persistent, insistent rhythm. Finally, annoyed, I pulled it out. The screen glowed with an unknown number from a Seattle area code.

I almost declined it, but something made me answer.

"Ethan?" a voice said. It was crisp, clear, and oddly familiar.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's Gabrielle Chadwick. Gabby."

The name hit me like a physical blow. Gabby. My childhood best friend from Wisconsin. We were inseparable until high school graduation, when I went to culinary school and she went off to some Ivy League college to study computer science. We'd lost touch, swallowed up by our different lives. I hadn't heard her voice in almost a decade.

"Gabby? Wow. How... how did you get this number?"

"I have my ways," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. It was the same confident, slightly mischievous tone I remembered. "I saw your Instagram story. Are you serious?"

My throat felt tight. "As a heart attack," I said, the bitter humor tasting stale.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I expected her to laugh, to tell me I was crazy. Instead, her next words floored me.

"Good," she said, her voice firm. "Marry me instead."

I was sure I'd misheard her. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's get married. I need a husband, you need a new bride. It's perfect."

I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "You're serious? Why would you possibly need a husband? You're... you're Gabby Chadwick. I saw an article about you. You're some kind of tech CEO genius."

"That's part of the problem," she said, her tone becoming more business-like. "My investors are old-fashioned. They think a single woman in her late 20s running a billion-dollar company is a flight risk. They want to see 'stability'. A husband, a family. It's ridiculous, but it's the game I have to play. And my family won't get off my back."

She laid it all out, a proposition that was both insane and incredibly tempting. She would offer me complete financial support, help me open my own restaurant, anything I wanted. It was a deal, a mutually beneficial arrangement.

"What's the catch?" I asked, my mind reeling. I was a chef, not a businessman, but this sounded too good to be true.

"The catch," Gabby said, her voice softening slightly, "is that it has to be a real marriage, Ethan. All of it. The emotional commitment, the physical... everything. I'm not looking for a roommate. I want a partner. A real husband. And eventually, I want kids. I want you to be their father."

A real marriage. A partner. A family. Everything Nicole had just thrown back in my face. It was an escape hatch from the hell my life had become. It was a lifeline.

"Okay," I heard myself say, the word coming out before I had even fully processed it. "I'll do it."

I could almost feel her relief through the phone. "Okay. Good."

"Just give me two weeks," I said, a sudden resolve hardening my voice. "I need to end things with Nicole. Properly."

"Take all the time you need," Gabby said. "Just... call me when you're done."

Before she hung up, she added one more thing. "And Ethan? Change my contact name in your phone. It'll make things easier."

I looked at the unknown number on my screen, deleted it, and created a new contact. Gabrielle Chadwick. Then I deleted that and typed two words instead.

My Wife.