To Harley.
My partner in life.
I love you.
CONTENTS
PART 1: TISH AND JOHN
CHAPTER 1 TISH
CHAPTER 2 JOHN
CHAPTER 3 TISH
CHAPTER 4 JOHN
CHAPTER 5 TISH
CHAPTER 6 JOHN
CHAPTER 7 TISH
CHAPTER 8 JOHN
CHAPTER 9 TISH
CHAPTER 10 JOHN
CHAPTER 11 TISH
CHAPTER 12 JOHN
CHAPTER 13 TISH
PART 2: TISH, KATE, AND ASHLYN
CHAPTER 14 KATE
CHAPTER 15 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 16 TISH
CHAPTER 17 TISH
CHAPTER 18 KATE
CHAPTER 19 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 20 TISH
CHAPTER 21 KATE
CHAPTER 22 TISH
CHAPTER 23 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 24 KATE
CHAPTER 25 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 26 TISH
CHAPTER 27 KATE
CHAPTER 28 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 29 KATE
CHAPTER 30 TISH
CHAPTER 31 KATE
CHAPTER 32 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 33 KATE
CHAPTER 34 TISH
CHAPTER 35 KATE
CHAPTER 36 TISH
CHAPTER 37 KATE
CHAPTER 38 TISH
CHAPTER 39 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 40 KATE
CHAPTER 41 TISH
CHAPTER 42 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 43 KATE
CHAPTER 44 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 45 KATE
CHAPTER 46 TISH
CHAPTER 47 KATE
CHAPTER 48 TISH
CHAPTER 49 KATE
CHAPTER 50 TISH
CHAPTER 51 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 52 KATE
CHAPTER 53 TISH
CHAPTER 54 KATE
CHAPTER 55 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 56 KATE
CHAPTER 57 TISH
CHAPTER 58 KATE
CHAPTER 59 TISH
CHAPTER 60 KATE
CHAPTER 61 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 62 TISH
CHAPTER 63 KATE
CHAPTER 64 KATE
CHAPTER 65 ASHLYN
CHAPTER 66 KATE
EPILOGUE TISH
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PART 1:
TISH AND JOHN
CHAPTER 1
TISH
Despite popular notions to the contrary, it isn’t easy being the next wife.
I mean, sure, I have the benefit of his success without struggling through the “early days,” whatever that means. But I also don’t get to enjoy the open spaces of possibility—the opportunity to create a life together, baggage-free. So as we gather in the conference room to celebrate EventCo’s big news, baggage invades my space.
I note one of the pieces of baggage standing just outside the conference room door: Ashlyn, the opinionated and overly dependent twenty-year-old daughter. For the most part, we have an amicable relationship, one I’ve worked hard to cultivate, and she understands the parameters. I used to babysit her, and we have a certain bond since she told me so many secrets. She thinks I have done likewise.
Next to her stands the steamer trunk of baggage: Kate, wife number one. People say I’m the spitting image of Kate when she was young. And I am. We are both slim with shiny brown hair and big smiles. She is simply older by more than twenty years, a worn version of me. In her, I see my future. Sort of. She can’t seem to stop wearing business suits to the office. I mean, the 1980s are calling, and they want their clothes back. Today she’s wearing all white, meaning she’s either a suffragette or pure as snow. As if.
Despite our differences in age and style, that cliché about men having a type is true. I mean, men aren’t that original. They’re simple beings, easy to figure out. Keep them happy, well fed in all areas if you get my drift, and voilà—a happy life.
Especially after they’ve had success.
Why would you let them slip through your fingers then? That’s when you hold on tight. Sure, they’re more work as they get older, and more successful, but that’s just part of the deal. Some of us know how to keep our men, and some, well, they just don’t. I will hang on. There will not be another wife.
Kate and I make eye contact, and I grin, reveling in the fact that I’m here inside the conference room seated next to John while she’s milling around outside, trying to figure out where to be. Where her place is. Awkward for her, I’m sure.
Oh good, there’s Jennifer, our beautiful vice president of marketing, going out of her way to make Kate feel welcome in the conference room. She’s gushing over John’s past family as if she were a long-lost relative. I should never have allowed her to be hired. Jennifer meets my eye and then quickly finds something to stare at on the floor. I wonder again why I am forced to work around someone who could be ripped from the pages of a fashion magazine: long blonde hair, impossibly smooth skin, big green eyes, and other enhancements. I’m a fool, that’s why. Heaven knows I don’t need John’s attention divided any more than it already is.
The conference room door opens again and in walks Lance Steel—our COO—bald, brilliant, and gorgeous. He slides into a chair two down from me.
“Hey, boss,” he says to John. Lance’s jaw is drawn, intensity radiates from him. He’s always thinking, from what I can tell. John says we were lucky to lure him away from a tech giant, and maybe we were, but I’d appreciate a friendlier COO if I had a choice. I sense Lance watching me, as always, and I meet his stare. I’m not sure if he’s attracted to me or if it’s something else. I assume we’re about the same age, Lance and I, so I’m not interested. I like older men. I squeeze John’s thigh under the table, but he pivots his chair away.
I force a smile as Kate and Ashlyn settle into their seats in the conference room, selecting chairs on the opposite end from me at the large glass table. All the officers and key employees fill the room now—the stakeholders, as they say—numbering twenty-four of us. Ashlyn stares at me across the table, her entitled confidence misplaced. She has no power here. If she had behaved, been a friend after John and I married, maybe things would be different for her. But it’s too late for that. We act like we have a relationship when John’s around, but it’s a lie.
I break away from the brat and look around the table. Almost all the people at the table have been here since the beginning. Their tension and excitement are palpable. Beside me, I feel John shift in his seat. He’s never quite gotten used to this—all of his family being together in one place, despite the fact we all worked here together in ignorant bliss not so long ago.
John stands, commanding the room. He’s wearing a black polo shirt with EventCo stitched in red on the sleeve, black pants, and a big smile. We both dressed Steve Jobs-style, all in black.
