My shoulders ached and my thumb had started twitching involuntarily. It wouldn’t be long before my hands cramped up. I stared at the screen on my laptop. I was five cups of coffee in, and I had found my groove—finally. The coffee shop I discovered on my walk was adorable. The walls were covered in lending books. I didn’t think I could find something so cozy in the city. It was perfect. Exactly what I was looking for. I needed a place like this where I could write. Somewhere I could unwind and disappear in another world.

The exposed brick reminded me of Bella’s wine cellar. And the red lamp shades carried the same soft glow as the tables in the restaurant. I could probably write here the rest of the night if I gave my hands a mini-break and stretched my legs. I definitely didn’t need any more coffee.

Then I realized what time it was.

Shit.

It was close to nine o’clock. I reached for my phone, but remembered Jeremy and I hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. This was absurd. I didn’t have any way to text or call my husband. I quickly began to pack my laptop.

My phone startled me.

I looked down. Double shit. It was my mom.

Why hadn’t I called before now?

“Mama, hi,” I answered, cringing. I had to get this over with. One quick call and it would be done.

“How was your day off?” she asked.

“Good. It was really good.”

“I didn’t see the register report on my desk this morning. I didn’t want to call earlier. I thought you might want to sleep in and enjoy the day. Did you leave them somewhere? I can’t find them.”

I had been too preoccupied to run the register tallies last night. There were no reports. It was a miracle I had locked up Bella’s on the way out.

“Actually, I didn’t run through the close out.”

“Were the computers down?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” I shook my head. I turned toward the wall of books behind me. Somehow this would be easier if I pretended no one could see me.

“Are you feeling ok? I can run some wedding soup over in a few minutes. Dad fell asleep on the couch watching the game. As soon as he starts snoring I’ll get some out of the freezer and I can drive it over.” Taking care of people was part of her DNA.

“No!” I quieted my voice. “I mean, no thank you. I don’t need wedding soup. I’m not sick, Mama. Forget about the freezer and the soup.”

“All right. I won’t bring any soup.”

She always got quiet like that when I hurt her feelings.

“Mama, I need to tell you something. And it’s not an easy thing for me to do. I’m struggling with how I’m going to say this. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but maybe it’s better Dad is asleep.”

I exhaled. If I told her now, she could deliver the news to my father for me.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine.”

“Then you can tell me. You scared me for a second. I thought something had happened to you. As long as you’re all right.”

I felt guilt I was so many states away and no one knew. Should I start at the beginning? Did I tell her about the deal I made with Jeremy?

“Do you remember Jeremy Hartwell? I went to high school with him.”

I would start there. I could build a small foundation and create a connection, as if we’d had one for years.

“Of course I know him. He’s Sylvia Hartwell’s son. Everyone knows who he is, even though he seems to have forgotten where he came from. He hasn’t been to Newton Hills in ages.”

I rolled my eyes. There was already one strike against him. We never discussed the Hartwells. I had no idea my mom had an opinion about any of them. Even when the local news covered Eric Hartwell’s death I couldn’t remember a single comment about the oil and gas billionaire.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but we reconnected online. An old friends kind of thing.” I started with a lie and planned on ending with a version of the truth. It would make it easier for her, but I wasn’t sure it made it easier for me. “And things moved really quickly between us. I never said anything because I was afraid it was too good to be true. We were both surprised by how fast everything snowballed between us.” I sucked in a deep breath. “We eloped last night.”

“No.”

“It is sudden. I realize—”

“Marco! Marco, wake up,” she yelled at my father. He grumbled in the background. I pictured her poking him in the ribs until he was conscious. “Evelyn says she got married last night. Married.”

I covered my eyes with my palm and lowered my head. It didn’t matter that I was thirty. It wouldn’t matter when I was fifty. I was always going to be their child. That didn’t seem to fade with age. If anything, the older I got the harder my mother held on. I saw it with Frannie. I felt it with the daily phone calls. And in this moment, I had shattered something between us. I had stolen a milestone, and I couldn’t give it back. I took away a memory we could never share together. The elopement had taken care of that.

I started to speak faster. “I’m in New York with Jeremy now. It’s amazing here.”

“I’m putting you on speaker,” she announced. “It’s Evelyn, Marco. Wake up.”

I sighed. Shit. “Hey, Dad.”

“Did you get married last night?”

“I did. We took Jeremy’s jet to Asheville. And we’re in New York. He has work here that’s important.”

“More important than talking to your father and asking permission to marry his daughter?”

I flinched. “I’m thirty. I don’t need permission to get married. That sounds really sexist, Dad.”

“It’s courtesy, Evelyn. It’s a sign of respect. You know we value Italian tradition. Don’t call me sexist,” he barked. “Put him on the phone.”

“You want to talk to Jeremy?” I eked.

“Your father said to put him on the phone,” Mama echoed. “He needs to speak to him.”

“We’ll have to call you back. We have dinner plans,” I lied. “Reservations are a big deal in the city. So, I’ll call tomorrow? We can talk then. I really have to go. Love you both.” I hung up and turned my phone off immediately. I knew they would call back within seconds. If it wasn’t them, it would be Frannie. My sister was going to freak out. It wouldn’t take much nudging from them for her to start blowing up my phone.

The abrupt ending to the call made me feel uneasy, but so did lying about my relationship.

I threw my messenger bag over my shoulder and walked outside. I was only two blocks from Jeremy’s building. By the time I reached the penthouse all I wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep. Crying wasn’t out of the question.

“Where were you?” His voice hit me before I had closed the door.

“Hi to you too.” I glanced up. I didn’t know Jeremy could look so tense. There was darkness in his eyes.

He scowled. “Where did you go?”

My shoulders slumped, letting the bag touch the floor. “I wanted to explore a little. I lost track of time.” I was almost too weary for words.

“There wasn’t a note. No message from you. Not even a trail of damn breadcrumbs, Evie. How was I supposed to know where you were?”

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize you would worry. I also didn’t realize I had to check in with you, roomie.”

He groaned. “You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“I came home to an empty apartment. What do you call that?”

I exhaled. “I’m too tired to fight with you. I’m also too tired to explain why I’m not going to stay up here in your icy tower like a prisoner.”

“You aren’t a prisoner.”

“Really?”

He followed me down the hall. I walked into the master bedroom, grabbed my suitcase, and rolled it out of the room into the hall.

“Where are you going with that?” he asked.

I opened the guestroom and tossed the bag on one of the folding valets. “I’m going to bed,” I snapped. “I’m exhausted. And suddenly somehow in a worse mood.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Come on. Let’s go to bed, together. We can solve this in about ten minutes.” He winked.

I spun on my heels. “No.”

“Fuck. Why are you so mad, Evie?”

“You aren’t going to control me. That’s not what I signed up for.”

His massive frame blocked the doorway. “I got home and you weren’t here. I didn’t expect my wife to roam the streets of New York alone. Yeah, it pissed me off. But that’s no reason for you to sleep in here. Stop unpacking your stuff and come to bed with me.”

I laughed. “See, this is something else we didn’t know about each other.”

“That you have a wicked temper?” he taunted.

“No, that you think sex can fix all problems.”

“It can’t?” He looked genuinely stunned. “I want you in my bed. I can turn that anger into something productive for you.”

“Not tonight you can’t.” God, why was I picking a fight with him? Was I really that upset I had scared him? Or was it his tone? His arrogance?

“I don’t want you to sleep in the guest room.” He cleared his throat. For a second I believed it was difficult for him to say those words. I was pushing him to ask for something he expected me to deliver on my own.

“Then stop treating me like one of your properties. Stop treating me like you own me.” I pulled my toothbrush from my floral overnight bag and stormed into the bathroom.

I looked up in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. Jeremy stood behind me. His eyes were dark and intense. He made me shiver, but I wasn’t falling for that smoldering stare. Not this time. I didn’t leave Newton Hills to be his call girl. I wasn’t a for-hire wife.

I spat into the sink and splashed my face with water.

If I gave into his bedroom eyes every time he wanted me, he’d lose respect for me. And damn it, I’d lose respect for myself. I hadn’t negotiated away my soul when I married him. Maybe I should put that in writing.

I twisted the faucet handle and looked up.

He was gone. I pivoted. The guest room was empty. I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against the cool surface. I held my breath, concentrating to listen. The door on the other side of the hall closed quietly.

I stood tall and pulled my shoulders back. Tonight, my husband was going to have to sleep alone. And I was going to convince myself I had won an important battle.