Now, I picked the statement up, studying one of the bank charges listed at the very top. A recurring membership charge. For a place I knew all too well. A place Asher had no business going to…

In the kitchen, I held the folder to my chest like a shield, watching the man I loved making breakfast. He glanced up at me and smiled, wagging the spatula playfully.

When I closed my eyes, I could see us there—on our first date. I’d always been intimidated by him as a young kid: his family’s money, his confidence, his popularity, and his intimidating social circle. But then I ran into him at a local art fair, and the second he saw me, he waved and came strolling over, much to my surprise. Rosalee, right? Long time, no see! I was shocked that he remembered my name. We stood there in the park for an hour, leaning between rows of local artisans’ tents, just talking. He spoke passionately about his law practice, but he wasn’t one of those guys—like I had expected—who centered the conversation around himself. He asked questions about my life away from Moon County, about my art degree, my interests. A week later, he tracked me down on Facebook and asked me out on a proper date. I’d expected something classic, a fancy dinner or a trip to the local movie theater to see the new James Bond. But he surprised me with tickets to an art gallery in a neighboring city. He had seemed so thoughtful, so unexpectedly humble and kind, and over the years, his loyalty to me never seemed to waver.

Asher was my dream guy, not just his looks but his personality too. He was confident but caring, and he seemed to adore me. Which was why finding that bank charge made no sense.

I watched my future husband dance around the kitchen preparing my breakfast, wondering if I’d been wrong about him all along.

I thought I could trust him with my life, but perhaps that wasn’t the case…

Chapter Two

Elizabeth

The mother-in-law

“Are you sure about this? It’s not too late to switch flights.”

“Mom, stop it.” My daughter, Bri, jabbed an elbow in my rib cage, but she was smiling when she did it. I knew she wanted to be here about as much as I did.

“Seriously. I have miles on my Amex. We could go anywhere you want. The Galapagos. Or, hey, what about Paris?” I teased.

I adjusted the backs of my diamond earrings, patted my neatly coifed bun. I was getting old, sure, my hair thinning and white, and my skin wrinkled as a prune, but I always strived to look my best, wearing expensive clothes in muted colors, and visiting my stylist once a month. I refused to be one of those lazy, old women walking around in a housedress and rollers.