“Good morning, darling,” he greeted, walking over and kissing her cheek. He pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of his post-run shake.

Her husband was very concerned with his health, jogged seven days a week, and drank pre-and post-workout elixirs comprised of things Colette didn’t want to think too much about.

“How was your run?” she asked as she set his plate on the white granite worktop. Her sister, Noelle, often joked that the brightest thing in the entire house was Colette’s hair.

Ed’s mother, Laura, had “helped” with the decorating (an understatement) and had declared bright colors gaudy and unsophisticated.

Colette hadn’t wanted to argue. She was in a different world here, where the rules were set but often not shared, and one small misstep could have negative social or professional consequences.

The older woman also cautioned that people would look to topple Colette because of Ed’s profile within the London business world and that there would be several who would love nothing more than to see their relationship ruined.

Laura’s intentions weren’t malicious, Colette knew, but a heartfelt warning. Ed’s mother was much like her, in a way. She’d come from a simpler life and had been propelled into this world by her own marriage. It had ended badly for many of the same reasons she now cautioned Colette about.

She’d left Ed’s dad a few years later and made a place for herself on her own terms. She wanted Colette to do the same, without the broken marriage.

“It was good. I ran into Carter and Freddy in the park,” Ed informed her as he continued to drink the contents of his bottle. “They said they had some news about that IPO I’ve been tracking.”

When they first met, her husband was a lowly portfolio manager’s assistant for a small investment firm in London. Now, he was the personal fund manager for seven-and eight-figure families, who paid him more than handsomely to manage their investments.

He’d gone from a tiny fish in a small pond to a great white in a lake of other investment managers just like him.

“And speaking of news—according to Mother there’s another grandchild on the way.” Ed’s tone was casual but Colette noticed he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

She was glad of it, because she knew there was no way she would have been able to hide her reaction. “Oh. Sarah’s pregnant again?” She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d even got the words out, the lump of disappointment in her throat was so huge. Or was it envy?

Colette wasn’t sure how to describe the visceral, almost primal disappointment you experienced when someone else managed to achieve the very thing you wanted.