After two exhausting months away caring for my mother, I was finally home—only to find a strange woman unlocking my door.
“Who are YOU?” she demanded.
“I live here! Who are YOU?”
She blinked. “Michael gave me a key.”
Michael. My husband.
Rage burned through me. “Oh, did he?”
Her face paled. “Wait… He told me he was single.”
I dragged her to the kitchen, where Michael sat, mid-bite of cereal.
She frowned. “Who’s THAT?”
Michael stared. “What’s happening?”
Turns out, she had been dating Nick—Michael’s scheming younger brother—who had used my husband’s name and apartment for his love life.
Furious but inspired, we texted Nick: Dinner tonight?
He arrived, grinning—until he saw Sonya.
Her water hit his face before his excuses could.
Michael crossed his arms. “You’re paying our rent this month.”
Nick groaned. “Even the AirPods?”
“Especially the AirPods.”
Sonya smirked. “That was fun.”
It really was. And dinner was delicious.
