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“I know it’s my wedding weekend and the attention is all on me for the next thirty-six hours, but I’m pressing pause on the wedding because you need to spill why you’re so down in the dumps,” Mandy says as we sit at the salon getting pedicures.

“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “Talk to me about your bouquet. What flowers did you decide on?”

She purses her lips. “Look, I’m pregnant and I’m the bride and I’m not sitting here bullshitting about the flowers when something is clearly up with you. Talk or you’re being demoted.”

I can’t help a small giggle that immediately turns into tears.

“Oh shit,” she says, and she reaches over to pull my hand in hers. Good thing we opted for pedicures first and manicures second. “What’s going on?”

“I filed for divorce.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

She gasps dramatically. “Oh my God! Why?”

I shrug. How do I tell her precisely why? It’s complicated considering who I’m talking to. I get that Jaxon and Travis are two different people, but she may run into a lot of the same things I’m running away from by rushing into a wedding with a football player when there’s a kid involved.

Man, our situations are even more parallel than I thought.

Before I get a chance to answer, she gasps again. “Wait a minute. Have you been… faking it? Is this a fake relationship playing out before my very eyes just like in the books? Oh my God! You’re going to fall back in love with him. That’s how fake relationships always work out.”

“Stop. Yes, we’ve been holding off on telling everyone. I didn’t want to ruin your wedding.”

“Ahh! And we got you a suite with a king bed! One room at the inn! Forced proximity! It’s all our favorite tropes, girlfriend! Just add two or three more guys into the mix…” She sighs dreamily as she stares off into the distance for a second.

“It’s not quite like that,” I say dryly.

“Then what’s it like?” she demands. “And why are you divorcing him?”

Eventually I draw in a deep breath and take the coward’s way out by minimizing the real story. “It’s just…we rushed into things, and we didn’t really know what we were getting into. And now that the custody thing with Harper is settled, we don’t need to keep up the ruse. Except for this weekend, where we’re faking it to keep the attention off us and on you.”

“Oh come off it, Hartley,” she chastises. “We both know it was more than a ruse.”

I should’ve known she’d see right through me. “Yeah. It’s just…complicated.”

“And you’re going through it alone. Talk,” she demands.

“It’s everything, you know?” I swipe at an errant tear. “It’s the paparazzi chasing me. It’s losing my job. It’s trying to protect Harper when I don’t even know how to protect myself. It’s his lack of communication and me finding things out from social media rather than my husband. It’s everything, you know? And it’s so early and so new that I’d rather cut my losses so I can move forward to start looking for the things I really want out of this life than sit here wasting my time on another guy who won’t be able to give me what I really need.”

“Do you really think he can’t give you what you need?” she asks softly, and before I get a chance to answer, she adds more. “Because I think you’re wrong. You want the husband and the kids and the whole dream, and you had it, Vic. You had it. You had the family and the kid and the husband who adores you. Why are you giving it up? Why are you letting it go?”

“Because I’m scared. I had the good stuff, sure. But I also lost my dream job.” I stare up at the ceiling in some futile attempt to ward off tears.

She squeezes my hand. “It is scary. But I also think maybe you’re using the dream job thing as an excuse.”

I clear my throat as my brows dip and I glare over at her. “Why would I possibly do that?”

“Was it really your dream job?” she asks. “Is pushing paperwork at a higher level what you really want to do with your life? You wanted to work with kids, and you just gave that up to take that district position where you’d never get to even see kids. What’s really your dream?”

I don’t answer because I’m afraid she might be right.

What is my dream?

Was it upper-level paperwork with a bigger paycheck?

Or was it being a mother? Working with kids by raising a couple of my own?

I loved the part of my job where I got to make opportunities to help kids learn to read, to help kids overcome their disabilities, to help kids learn to love reading.

I got to do that with Harper.

And as a bonus, I also got to step into a sort of mother-figure type role with her, too.

I’m throwing it all away, but why?

Because I’m scared?

Maybe that’s part of it. But there are other issues at play, too.

Unless Mandy’s right and I’m simply using all that as an excuse.

“Pull the papers before it’s too late,” she suggests. “Or at least ask the lawyer to wait a minute before filing them.”

She gives me a lot to consider.

After our pedicures and manicures, we get our make-up and hair done ahead of the rehearsal tonight. I head upstairs to our room to get dressed, and he’s still at the golf course, so I head to the bedroom to get dressed.

“Hartley?” he yells a few minutes later.

“I’m in the bedroom getting dressed!” I yell back. The door is closed.

“Can I watch?”

“No!” I screech.

He laughs. “Fine. I’m going to take a quick shower.”

I’m not planning to tell him that I let Mandy in on our secret, and part of me is thinking I sort of want to play the part one last time…to experiment and see what I really want now that I have this new perspective.

I text Travis’s lawyer before I head out of the bedroom and into the main sitting area of our suite.

Me: If it’s not too late, can you hold off filing the papers with the courts for a few days? This is Victoria Hartley, by the way. I’m still sure it’s what I want, but I guess I’m just not ready for you to turn them in and make it official.

His response is immediate.

Allen: How about I wait until next month?

I sigh. Am I just prolonging the inevitable?

Or am I buying us more time?

Me: That would be fine. Thank you.

I open the bedroom door and I spot him standing over by the window, looking out over the view. It’s gorgeous—all mountains and trees from here, a totally different terrain than the desert of Vegas we’re used to looking at.

He’s deep in thought, almost in prayer, but when he hears me, he glances over at me.

My breath catches in my throat as my eyes land on Travis Woods in a suit.

Good Lord, he’s handsome.

His beard is a little overgrown on his strong jawline, and somehow it just adds to his sex appeal. His blue eyes look pained when they land on me, and I draw in a sharp breath because suddenly it feels like I can’t breathe.

He looks powerful in that suit, like he could command any room he walks into. He looks like the lawyer his parents wanted him to be instead of the sexy football player he became.

And the way he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive steals my breath again.