“I mean, Calgary isn’t exactly Paris,” I quip because she’s acting like it’s some glitz-and-glam place.

“But what do you do all day? I’d go crazy. That’s why I had to get out, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” is my reply, because my patience is wearing thin, and my personality only allows me to keep my mouth shut for so long. The pressure is mounting and giving into my redhead streak is hella appealing right about now.

“Excuse me?” Her big blue eyes go wide, her pink lips turning down.

Of course, she has to be smoking hot. Cade couldn’t have been married to someone ugly to make me feel better about myself. I’d even settle for average looking, but no, she’s a ten. An eleven.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I clarify. “I love living out here. Your son is smart and fun. The land is beautiful. Cade works hard to provide for him. I’m not bored at all.”

A wolfish smile spreads across her lips. “Oh. I see.”

I refuse to react. “You’re going to need to clarify.”

“It’s okay. Us ladies can have our secrets. We’re not so different, you and I.” My brow quirks at her, and what I want to say is that we could not be more different if we tried. “I recommend enjoying him while you’re here. But don’t hold your breath. That man is as cold as they come. I thought getting pregnant might tie him down. And it did.”

My mind reels. “Pardon me?”

She waves a hand and carries on. “Birth control, no birth control, who’s really to say? You know? But he was still boring. He married me like it was ticking a line off a to-do list. I mean, sure, his dick is big, but that can only make up for so much. You’ll see. Robbing the cradle will eat away at his honor eventually.” The smile she turns on me is vicious. “Enjoy the ride while you’ve got it. I’ll still always be the mother of his child.”

I promised myself I’d be cool around this woman. I stood in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk, and I only do that when I’m drunk and convincing myself to sober up. But I’ve been telling myself to give her the benefit of the doubt, to not judge her, to not be jealous of her, and here I am doing all of those things.

“Alright. Well, that’ll do it,” I announce, clapping my hands.

She blinks innocently, but there’s a pleased curve to her mouth. Every word she picked was carefully crafted to get under my skin. And I let her. What can I say? I’m a heart-on-my-sleeve type of gal.

“What will do it?”