PART ONE — THE FIRST MORNING
The first thing my husband gave me after our wedding was not breakfast.
It was a filthy kitchen rag.
It hit the side of my face, slid across my cheek, and landed on my shoulder with a wet slap.
I froze.
The rag smelled like old bacon grease, coffee, and whatever had been rotting at the bottom of the sink overnight.
Mason stood three feet away from me in sweatpants, staring as if he had just done something perfectly normal.
“Welcome to married life, Olivia.”
Behind him, his mother, Carol, leaned against the kitchen doorway with her arms folded.
His father, Dean, sat in the adjoining living room watching a football replay, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.
I slowly pulled the rag from my shoulder.
“What did you just do?”
Mason laughed.
“You heard me last night when I said things were going to be different once we were married.”
