No Longer Their Fool

Everyone in the East Coast outfit agreed: my husband, Draven Rook, had more money than sense.

At restaurants, he mistook the song list for the menu and requested the same pianist's set dozens of times.

When I tried to cancel, my best friend, Bryndis, stopped me. "Let the man have his fun."

His shipments kept going to the wrong address. When I tried to recover one, my mother-in-law, Elowen held me back.

Then the deed to our new penthouse came back in a stranger's name.

My brother, Torin, rushed to explain. "That's my girl's name, sis. She won't marry me without a place in the city. Draven just lent it to me."

Draven never argued.

Last night, I opened his purchase history. Over a hundred grand in gifts, all sent to the same wrong address.

I followed it.

Inside, my mother-in-law, my brother, and my best friend surrounded a woman at the piano.

"Draven's so good to you," Torin said. "A penthouse in the city, just handed over."

Bryndis laughed. "If Maren hadn't gone abroad, Lira never would've married him. Poor Draven had to sit in restaurants for years just to hear her play."

So, Draven was never the fool.

I was.

And I was done being one.

...

I don't remember walking in. I only remember the laughter dying.

Four faces turned toward me at once.

"Who's this?" Maren asked, her fingers frozen on the keys.

Bryndis shot up off the stool.

"Not really anyone. That's the Rook family physician — she's here for Elowen's follow-up, I'd guess."

Not really anyone. Something sharp went through my chest.

Elowen had my arm in her grip, hauling me back out the door.

Maren popped another grape into her mouth and smiled up at her. "These are so sweet, Elowen."

"Then I'll peel them for you every day," my mother-in-law called back, warm as summer. "Your hands are for the piano."

The door clicked shut. Her face changed instantly.

"How did you find this place? And the sea cucumber I bought this morning — did you prep it?"

Torin slipped out, voice dropped low, fingers digging into my sleeve.

"Go home. I'm begging you. I'll explain tonight, I swear."

They dragged me to the stairwell. I bit down hard and kept my eyes dry.

"Where's Draven?" I asked.

Just then, the elevator chimed.

Draven stepped out in a tailored suit, a bouquet of red roses crushed against his chest, practically glowing.

"Maren — the gown's here. We have to move or we'll lose the light!"

Then he looked up. Our eyes met. The smile died on his face, and all the color went with it.

"Draven."

Torin shut the door behind us, mouthing something frantic. I tore free of him and Elowen and walked toward Draven, one step at a time.

"The wrong menu. The wrong address. The wrong name on our deed." I looked at the roses.

"So what's this one? Whose wedding dress did you buy by mistake? Whose photos are you rushing off to take?"

Draven's eyes slid away from mine.

"I'll explain later. Go home. Please — just listen to me."

Maren's head appeared around the doorframe.

"Draven, is Elowen all right? Why are the doctor's eyes so red?"

Draven moved before he thought. Shoved me behind him, that broad back between me and her.

"It's nothing. I'll send her off."

I had no footing. The stair edge caught my heel and I went down hard, tumbling, my shin splitting open on the concrete lip. Blood soaked through my skirt in a bright, spreading stain.

Draven's pupils blew wide. His foot lifted — half a step toward me.

"Ah — Draven!" Maren cried, sugar-sweet.

"My hair's caught in the clip, it's pulling so bad..."

His foot came down. He turned and walked her inside without a flicker of hesitation.

"Don't move, sweetheart. Don't hurt your scalp — I've got it."

Torin and Elowen hurried after them.

"I'll fix your train!"

"I'll get the camera rolling!"

I sat on the cold concrete and understood, finally, how absurd all of it was.

Bryndis came down the steps last, annoyed, and hauled me up by the arm.

"Enough of the performance, Lira. This obsessive little habit of yours — digging until you find something — I've been sick of it for years. Today's their anniversary. He just wants one photo shoot to make up for what he lost."

Sick of it.

When the whole school called Bryndis a thief, I was the one who wouldn't let it go. I dug until her name was clean. Now she wanted the wife to step aside so the mistress could have her regrets.

Nobody remembered it was my birthday.

I pushed off the wall and limped to the doorway. Inside, Draven was combing his fingers gently through Maren's hair.

I held my breath and spoke into their backs, my voice flat and cold.

"Maren, do you know that the man you're about to take wedding photos with is my husband?"