Charming … I forgot how charming Theo can be when he wants to be.

And tonight, he’s laying it on thick. As if he’s out to win some bet against me since I asked him to pretend that our marriage was still happy and loving.

The first time we’d ever come to an event representing my family and our money, Theo had worn a rented tuxedo and told people that he worked construction. That night, we’d discovered that he’d worked on my parent’s summer home, and that we’d probably been standing in the same room at some point. The people my family associated with had been rude, openly sniffed at him … and yet, he’d smiled and danced and made me feel special. I had been so embarrassed, of course not of him … but of what he might think of me. My world was all polish and sheen with no substance underneath. It was false, materialistic and stuffy.

Over the years, Theo had learned this. And while we’d enjoyed ourselves that night, young people in love dancing to the big band, he’d come to hate these. He thought they were idiotic and a show of wealth. My husband had often asked me why they had to put on a multi-thousand-dollar party to donate to charity when they could just donate that money to charity instead. He wasn’t wrong.

“So then I said, ‘What do you mean, it was the dogs?’” Theo told the end of a funny story, and the men around him bust out laughing.

The man I married might classify himself as bearded, broody, and bottled-up, at least when it came to strangers, but he’d become my biggest asset at these events over the years. He steered me from conversations I would rather not have, made stuffy conversations more enjoyable, and showed me a better time than I ever would have had eating rubbery lobster and re-heated mashed potatoes.

But I knew Theo hated it, the insincerity of it all. These people were only here to social climb or show off their wealth, and it was never about the charity or the good being done.

“Oh, man, I’m so glad you brought this guy. Even if he is an employee of one of my companies.” Jasper Sion slaps Theo on the shoulder.

Jasper owns one of those investment firms that does nothing but fund other companies. His business is owning other businesses. And he’s a jerk … there is no other way to put it. Every time he sees Theo and I at a function, he makes sure to cut my husband down for his lack of a college degree.

“Happy to be an employee, I never needed all of the money in the world.” Theo shrugs, his words more serious than the tone of the conversation.

Jasper booms out a laugh. “Doesn’t care about money? This guy is hilarious.”

I see the tic on Theo’s jaw and know it’s time to excuse ourselves. “Take me for a spin around the floor?”

“Needy, this one, huh? My wife ignored me after just a year of marriage.” Jasper elbows Theo in the ribs lightly. “I prefer it that way.”

Theo’s hand is stiff in mine as I practically drag him to the dance floor. Just having this contact, our fingers intertwined, makes my heart dissolve into a puddle of sadness. For five years, I’d held his hand as if it was an extension of my body. And now … we didn’t mesh. The embrace is awkward, and while we plaster amiable smiles on our faces as we step onto the hardwood, we both know this is fake.

All night, my body has been going from hot to cold. He just … he looks like my husband. Obviously, because he is, for a short, expiring time here, but what I mean is that for half a decade he has been my rock. The one I go to for everything, the first person I want to tell anything to.

And it’s clear, even after just a week, that now he isn’t. The contrast of seeing him and knowing that he’ll no longer be mine is screwing with my heart and my head.

But I asked for this. Grow thicker skin, Imogen.

“I’ve always hated that guy,” Theo grits out, his box step a hundred times better than it was when we started making public appearances as boyfriend and girlfriend.

I study his chiseled cheekbones, always half-hidden by the unruly scruff on his face. He’d kept his beard longer than normal for tonight, and I knew it was to make a spiteful statement.

“Thank you for always accompanying me to these. I know this is not your world. I know you hate it.” My heart pops like a balloon suddenly devoid of air.

In our whole marriage, had he ever been happy with me? The sadness crept in, partly because we were also going to end up like every other emotionless couple in this room. It wasn’t supposed to happen to us … we were in love. We didn’t cheat or travel eight months out of the year. We didn’t loathe the company of each other, and we had wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to us. But it was.

“I did it for you.” His eyes are the color of a tornado, swirling with destruction.

Theo twirled me in time with the music, and my stomach lurched.

Stopping us, and pressing a hand to my gut, I tried to inhale. “Ugh …”

“What’s wrong?” His hand touched my elbow and the lustful simmer that had always ignited between us burned my skin.

Even when I was green in the face, he could make me come undone. “I just feel a little light-headed. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten.”

Ever my hero, Theo doesn’t say a word as he escorts me off the dance floor with a hand at the small of my back. He seats me at our table and breaks a dinner roll in half, buttering and salting it just the way I like.

My stomach rolls again, and it takes everything in me not to vomit as I bring the bread to my lips.

“You need to take care of yourself. I …” Theo’s mouth turns down as he looks away.

He was about to say that he won’t be here to do it. I swallow the indecision and push away the desire to call this whole thing off, to ask if we can just go back to how it all was before.

But we can’t. Too much has happened between us.

“I will. Don’t worry about me. This will all be over soon. You can live your life away from this spotlight.” A tinge of bitterness fills my voice.

Because I know that even if he’s done this for so long, for me, he’s breathing a sigh of relief that he won’t have to do it soon. That thought disappoints me. I only ever wanted to give us a beautiful life, and my family’s money can help with that.

Theo just stares at me, right into my soul. He probably knows I’m thinking the last part, the part I don’t say out loud. Just like I know that he’s thinking that I never gave his way of living a try.

Like I said, too much history has gone down between us, and there is only so much water that can go under that bridge before it begins to collapse.

An hour later, we’re in the car on our way back to our house. Or … Theo’s house. It’s not my house anymore.

“Will you be needing me again this week or next?” Theo’s looking out the window as he talks to me.

My heart wars with itself. Remain cold. No, you love him.

“There is a luncheon next weekend to celebrate the launch of some application my father has invested in.”

“So he’ll be there?”

I bite my lip. “Yes.”

“That’ll be nice for me. Seeing him gloat,” he rumbles, and I watch as his fingers dig into the fabric of his suit pants.

“He won’t—”

Theo cuts me off, his voice snapping, “Don’t pretend that just because you’re going back to them that they aren’t who they are. I was married to you for four years, Immy … I know what your family is like. I know how they hurt you, I was the one whose shoulder you cried on. I was the one who loved you unconditionally. So don’t cover up for them, not with me. Not when you know that I know better. I’ll grin and bear it, just like I always have, but don’t start lying to me. Don’t start being a Weston until you completely walk away from being a Walsh.”

My throat is closing around the knot of emotion that’s risen in it, and the prick of tears in the corners of my eyes is heavy. I want to disappear, have the earth open up and swallow me whole. Theo was right, of course, I was trying to be a Weston. Glossing over any sign of conflict was our superpower.

The town car pulls into the driveway at that moment, and Theo doesn’t bother saying goodbye as he opens the door, slams it, and stalks up to the house.

I don’t get out, either, to try to apologize. It’s better this way. If he hates me, it’ll make it easier.

So why do I look back as we pull out onto the street? Why do I curl my knees up onto the seat and stare out the rearview window?

And why, when I do, is Theo standing on our front porch, staring back?