To Mira Jacob, my ride or die, for long walks where we tried to figure it all out and make it better. To Matthew Francis, who believed in me long before I did, for carrying every story I’ve ever told as if it were your own. You’re the best friends a writer girl ever had. To Tamara Dunn, my biggest cheerleader, and Aakiya Woods, who brings the joy. To Amanda Lin, whose laughter and get-’er-done spirit are infectious in equal measure. To Francisco Guzman for seeing my heart. This book wouldn’t have happened without all of you.

To Heather Abel, Luis Jaramillo, Matthew Brookshire, and Abigail Thomas for showing me that all I needed to write was a full belly, mine or the dog’s.

Julia Phillips, Raphael Coffey, Deborah Shapiro, Sarah Bardin, and Alex Hickox, thank you for cheering on my earliest drafts. To Alexandra Su-Jin Smith for your love and generosity and laser-sharp editing besides. To Gina Chung for asking all the right questions, and to Rachel Strom, for fielding so many of mine. To my fellow writers at Powderkeg (RIP the world’s best writing space) for your industry, companionship, and good cheer. To Andy McDowell and Pete’s Candy Store for being my literary home in the city.

Jenni Ferrari-Adler, thank you for believing in this book, and in me, for the long haul.

Melanie Fried, you were the only editor who could’ve made The Work Wife; it was a dream charting out its twists and turns with you. To Quinn Banting for the gorgeous cover. Justine Sha, Pamela Osti, and everyone else on the publicity, marketing, sales, and subrights teams at Graydon House and HTP/HarperCollins, thank you for bringing such passion and dedication to this work.

To Emma Straub, Jami Attenberg, Angie Kim, Marcy Dermansky, Courtney Maum, and Kaitlyn Greenidge, for lending your names and support at the crucial moment. And to all the indie booksellers, librarians, bookstagrammers, and bloggers, thank you for taking a chance on The Work Wife and for your devotion to books and readers.

Most of all, to Mike and Mia Houston for making home the place where dreams come true.

Why I Wrote The Work Wife by Alison B. Hart

I was thirty years old and three years out of grad school when my friend told me that the CEO of her company was looking for more personal assistants. I say “more” because the CEO and his wife already had several. My friend didn’t know exactly what the personal staff did all day—they kept to themselves, like a team of nerdy Navy Seals—but she did know this: I would be a perfect fit.