Chapter 1

After she found out I'd opened a restaurant, my wife's best friend started bringing crowds in to eat every single day.

In two months she ran up three hundred thousand dollars, and never once paid a cent.

The place was bleeding money, and I finally couldn't hold back. I mentioned it to her, just asked her to settle the bill.

Her answer, in front of the entire restaurant, was to pick up a big bowl of soup that had just been set on the table and throw it in my face.

"I only bring people here to give your wife face. You should be grateful, and instead you've got the nerve to hit me up for money?"

The scalding soup burned my whole face red, running down over my clothes.

My wife lowered her head and pretended she hadn't seen a thing.

I didn't shout. I didn't argue. I turned and walked out.

Three days later, my wife's best friend got engaged. She summoned every relative from her side and the groom's, booked out the whole restaurant, and gave me her order:

"Jerome Dickerson, today I'm having my engagement party here, whole place to myself. Every table gets your most expensive liquor and your best dishes!"

I glanced at the restaurant transfer contract I'd just signed, and gave a faint smile.

"Sure."

1

The moment Hailey Swanson threw that bowl of hot soup in my face.

The pain hit like a knife, straight to the bone.

The noisy restaurant went dead quiet.

Every head turned toward me at once.

Everyone except my wife, Maureen Pruitt, who quietly lowered her head and pretended she hadn't seen.

I looked up at Hailey's twisted face, then at Maureen, playing deaf and dumb.

I didn't shout, didn't make a scene. I just walked out of the restaurant.

Behind me, Hailey was still cursing.

"Maureen and I go back to before you even existed, and you've got the nerve to come collecting from me? Try asking me for money again and it won't just be soup you get."

I didn't turn around.

Out on the street, the cold wind hit, and the burn on my face stung sharper.

But inside, I was calmer than I'd ever been.

I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and made a call.

"Hi. I want to sell my restaurant."

"I don't care how low the price is. I only have one condition."

Once I'd worked it out with the person on the other end, I didn't go back to the restaurant.

I went straight home instead.

I'd barely reached the door when I heard Hailey's indignant voice coming from inside.

"Maureen, you really need to get your husband under control."

"We grew up close as sisters, thick as thieves, and he's got the nerve to hound his own wife's best friend for money over one meal?"

Maureen sighed, sounding put upon.

"He was in the wrong on this, no question."

"But the restaurant is his own money, he paid for it himself, so I can't really tell him what to do."

Hailey's voice shot up at once.

"So what if he paid for it himself?"

"He's your husband. His money is your money."

"Maureen, listen to me, you can't spoil a man like that. When it's time to smack him down, you smack him down. Look at me today, threw soup right in his face, and he didn't dare make a peep."

"You'd better set him straight later. Don't let some outsider wreck twenty-plus years of sisterhood between us."

Maureen was quiet for two seconds, then said in a low voice.

"I hear you."

The next second, I pushed the door open and walked in.

Both of them turned to look at me at once, displeasure all over their faces.

I ignored them and went straight into the bedroom.

Maureen followed and handed me a tube of burn ointment.

"Put some on. Then go out and apologize to Hailey."

I glanced at her, didn't take it, and opened the closet and started packing my clothes.

Maureen frowned, not getting it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I folded my coat and pushed it into the suitcase, calm.

"Packing. I'm moving out."

Her face darkened, and her voice turned impatient.

"Jerome, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"Yeah, Hailey shouldn't have thrown the soup, but you shouldn't have asked her to pay in front of everyone and left her with no way to save face either."

"She's my best friend. You expect me to fight her over you?"

"Can't you just be reasonable and drop that petty, penny-pinching streak of yours?"

My hands paused for a moment.

Then I looked up at Maureen and said flatly.

"Don't worry. I won't do it again."

With that, I folded the last shirt, laid it in the suitcase, zipped it shut, and walked out of the house without looking back.

Behind me, Maureen started to come after me, but Hailey stopped her, certain of herself.

"Maureen, let him go."

"You can't coddle a man. Running off is just his way of trying to squeeze you. Long as you don't take the bait, he'll come crawling back in tears in a few days."

To the sound of Hailey's jeering, I carried my suitcase into the elevator and went down.

Then I checked into a room near the restaurant.

Once I was settled, my phone buzzed.

A message.

After reading it, I smiled, satisfied.