The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

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To Harley.

My partner in life.

I love you.

CONTENTS

PART 1: TISH AND JOHN

CHAPTER 1 TISH

CHAPTER 2 JOHN

CHAPTER 3 TISH

CHAPTER 4 JOHN

CHAPTER 5 TISH

CHAPTER 6 JOHN

CHAPTER 7 TISH

CHAPTER 8 JOHN

CHAPTER 9 TISH

CHAPTER 10 JOHN

CHAPTER 11 TISH

CHAPTER 12 JOHN

CHAPTER 13 TISH

PART 2: TISH, KATE, AND ASHLYN

CHAPTER 14 KATE

CHAPTER 15 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 16 TISH

CHAPTER 17 TISH

CHAPTER 18 KATE

CHAPTER 19 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 20 TISH

CHAPTER 21 KATE

CHAPTER 22 TISH

CHAPTER 23 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 24 KATE

CHAPTER 25 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 26 TISH

CHAPTER 27 KATE

CHAPTER 28 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 29 KATE

CHAPTER 30 TISH

CHAPTER 31 KATE

CHAPTER 32 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 33 KATE

CHAPTER 34 TISH

CHAPTER 35 KATE

CHAPTER 36 TISH

CHAPTER 37 KATE

CHAPTER 38 TISH

CHAPTER 39 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 40 KATE

CHAPTER 41 TISH

CHAPTER 42 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 43 KATE

CHAPTER 44 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 45 KATE

CHAPTER 46 TISH

CHAPTER 47 KATE

CHAPTER 48 TISH

CHAPTER 49 KATE

CHAPTER 50 TISH

CHAPTER 51 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 52 KATE

CHAPTER 53 TISH

CHAPTER 54 KATE

CHAPTER 55 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 56 KATE

CHAPTER 57 TISH

CHAPTER 58 KATE

CHAPTER 59 TISH

CHAPTER 60 KATE

CHAPTER 61 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 62 TISH

CHAPTER 63 KATE

CHAPTER 64 KATE

CHAPTER 65 ASHLYN

CHAPTER 66 KATE

EPILOGUE TISH

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PART 1:

TISH AND JOHN

CHAPTER 1

TISH

Despite popular notions to the contrary, it isn’t easy being the next wife.

I mean, sure, I have the benefit of his success without struggling through the “early days,” whatever that means. But I also don’t get to enjoy the open spaces of possibility—the opportunity to create a life together, baggage-free. So as we gather in the conference room to celebrate EventCo’s big news, baggage invades my space.

I note one of the pieces of baggage standing just outside the conference room door: Ashlyn, the opinionated and overly dependent twenty-year-old daughter. For the most part, we have an amicable relationship, one I’ve worked hard to cultivate, and she understands the parameters. I used to babysit her, and we have a certain bond since she told me so many secrets. She thinks I have done likewise.

Next to her stands the steamer trunk of baggage: Kate, wife number one. People say I’m the spitting image of Kate when she was young. And I am. We are both slim with shiny brown hair and big smiles. She is simply older by more than twenty years, a worn version of me. In her, I see my future. Sort of. She can’t seem to stop wearing business suits to the office. I mean, the 1980s are calling, and they want their clothes back. Today she’s wearing all white, meaning she’s either a suffragette or pure as snow. As if.

Despite our differences in age and style, that cliché about men having a type is true. I mean, men aren’t that original. They’re simple beings, easy to figure out. Keep them happy, well fed in all areas if you get my drift, and voilà—a happy life.

Especially after they’ve had success.

Why would you let them slip through your fingers then? That’s when you hold on tight. Sure, they’re more work as they get older, and more successful, but that’s just part of the deal. Some of us know how to keep our men, and some, well, they just don’t. I will hang on. There will not be another wife.

Kate and I make eye contact, and I grin, reveling in the fact that I’m here inside the conference room seated next to John while she’s milling around outside, trying to figure out where to be. Where her place is. Awkward for her, I’m sure.

Oh good, there’s Jennifer, our beautiful vice president of marketing, going out of her way to make Kate feel welcome in the conference room. She’s gushing over John’s past family as if she were a long-lost relative. I should never have allowed her to be hired. Jennifer meets my eye and then quickly finds something to stare at on the floor. I wonder again why I am forced to work around someone who could be ripped from the pages of a fashion magazine: long blonde hair, impossibly smooth skin, big green eyes, and other enhancements. I’m a fool, that’s why. Heaven knows I don’t need John’s attention divided any more than it already is.

The conference room door opens again and in walks Lance Steel—our COO—bald, brilliant, and gorgeous. He slides into a chair two down from me.

“Hey, boss,” he says to John. Lance’s jaw is drawn, intensity radiates from him. He’s always thinking, from what I can tell. John says we were lucky to lure him away from a tech giant, and maybe we were, but I’d appreciate a friendlier COO if I had a choice. I sense Lance watching me, as always, and I meet his stare. I’m not sure if he’s attracted to me or if it’s something else. I assume we’re about the same age, Lance and I, so I’m not interested. I like older men. I squeeze John’s thigh under the table, but he pivots his chair away.

I force a smile as Kate and Ashlyn settle into their seats in the conference room, selecting chairs on the opposite end from me at the large glass table. All the officers and key employees fill the room now—the stakeholders, as they say—numbering twenty-four of us. Ashlyn stares at me across the table, her entitled confidence misplaced. She has no power here. If she had behaved, been a friend after John and I married, maybe things would be different for her. But it’s too late for that. We act like we have a relationship when John’s around, but it’s a lie.

I break away from the brat and look around the table. Almost all the people at the table have been here since the beginning. Their tension and excitement are palpable. Beside me, I feel John shift in his seat. He’s never quite gotten used to this—all of his family being together in one place, despite the fact we all worked here together in ignorant bliss not so long ago.

John stands, commanding the room. He’s wearing a black polo shirt with EventCo stitched in red on the sleeve, black pants, and a big smile. We both dressed Steve Jobs-style, all in black.