Page 104 of Single Mom's Guide to Love

I won’t, because I’m a fucking adult. But if my sisters were here? Or maybe if this was college-age Maeve? It would be game fucking on.

“Do you know how they met?” Candace asks.

“I mean, isn’t it obvious? He’s now shopping on a clearance rack for fake relationships.”

Okay, that’s not a bad joke, even if it’s at my expense. And frankly, I didn’t know ol’ Vivian had it in her.

“But it’s obvious why they got married,” she continues. “And it’s because of me.”

Vivian’s voice is suddenly very cocky. And I hate that she’s not wrong about that.

“What do you mean?”

“So, when I finally convinced Josh to marry?—”

I lean into the bushes, nearly falling through them to hear what Vivian’s about to say. I even grab my phone to start recording it. But someone—and when I find out who I’m going to steal all their spoons—opens the door on the other side of the terrace, effectively ending their conversation. I stay in my seat for a second to make sure they don’t start again, but it starts getting too cold and I have to force myself inside.

When I walk back into the ballroom, I can’t see either of them. And as much as I want to go on a hunt to track them down and figure out what the last part of that conversation would’ve been, I know I need to find Logan and return to my role as the dutiful wife.

“There you are,” Logan says, coming behind me, rubbing my arms to warm me up. “That took longer than you thought?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I missed your speech,” I say. “But I heard?—”

Before I can tell Logan what I started to overhear, and that I think Vivian was about to spill her secrets, someone grabs his attention.

And that person is Candace’s date. With Candace on his arm.

I have no idea who he is, and frankly, I don’t care. All I can do is stare at the woman who I just overheard talk openly that she’d fuck my husband and not care that I was in the picture.

I’m shooting daggers at her, and I don’t know if she’s just ignoring me, or oblivious, but she doesn’t even look my way.Which is fine. I’m patient. I can wait for her to realize that no one talks about fucking my husband other than me.

Holy shit…I just referred to him as my husband.

I knew Logan was different. I always knew, but I could never put a finger on it. Between him making me feel relaxed enough to break my vow of no men on the first night we met, to convincing me that marriage was a good idea, I knew this was not any normal man. Or any normal relationship.

And I was coming around to the feelings that I had pushed down for so long and refused to feel for anyone. Things like want, and passion, and just enjoying another person…they are finally coming out of retirement.

But these? These are new. Loathing. A little jealousy. And a brand-new one—possessiveness.

This man is mine. Candace and any other woman can look. But they can’t fucking touch.

Finally Candace realizes that I’ve been staring at her for going on three minutes while the men blabber on about whatever. She tries to give me a smile—it’s fake—and I return one—also fake.

I might not talk about it, but I was in a southern sorority. I can be fake with the best of them.

“You must be Maeve,” Candace says, daintily holding out a hand. “I’m Candace.”

“Hello. And yes, I’m Maeve Banks-Matthews. Or Mrs. Logan Matthews. I haven’t decided which one I like best yet.”

I mean, I’m keeping my name. But Blondie McBimbo over here doesn’t need to know that.

Our eyes narrow at each other, both of us realizing what we’re doing. But before I can start a cat fight, I feel Logan’s hand back on the small of my back.

“We should be going,” he says. “Good seeing you both.”

I wave goodbye as Logan quickly leads me out of the main room. He looks around the hall a second before pushing me toward his office, quickly shutting the door behind him.

“What—” My question is cut off by the force of his kiss on me. He has me pressed against the door. The room is pitch dark, and all I can feel is the wood against my back, Logan’s lips taking what they want, and his dick pressing into me.

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