~Vivian~
The golf club smelled like freshly cut grass, cigar smoke, and old money. Everything about it screamed exclusivity. It was Nathan’s favorite kind of place. Mine, not so much.
I sat at a small round table with Morrison’s wife, Linda, while the men were off discussing business. Linda was everything I wasn’t: blonde, poised, with the kind of confidence that came from years of knowing she belonged in spaces like these. Her diamond earrings sparkled every time she turned her head, and I caught my reflection in her oversized sunglasses, looking small and out of place.
“Your husband is quite impressive,” Linda said, her tone polite but distant. “Morrison speaks very highly of him.”
I gave her a practiced smile, the one I’d perfected over the years as Nathan’s wife. “Nathan works very
