Never Again My Secret Husband

Summary

The private dining room was thick with the scent of roasted meat, bourbon, and the damp wool of twenty people sheltering from the early winter frost. Outside, Lake Michigan was churning under a slate-gray sky, but inside, the annual corporate retreat was well into its third round of drinks.

Someone had just initiated a game of Never Have I Ever.

Travis, my husband of three years and the firm’s youngest managing director, pushed his chair back from the table. "Excuse me for a second," he murmured into the collar of his tailored jacket. "I need to take this call from the investors."