Her Emergency Contact Was My Husband

Summary

Five years of marriage, and Drew told me I needed to get a life of my own.

So, I enrolled in driving school. It was my first day of closed-course maneuver practice.

The instructor handed out an intake form, asking for an emergency contact.

The young girl next to me finished hers first, sliding the clipboard over with a warm smile. "Here you go, hon. Your turn."

"Thanks," I murmured, taking it.

As I did, my eyes accidentally brushed over her completed form.

Emergency Contact: Drew Weston.

Relationship: Husband.

Because the name I was about to write on my own form was exactly the same.