The Wife He Never Put First (Marriage in Crisis, Grovel & Redemption #3)

Chapter 1

Josephine

The clock caught my attention before the dress did.

Six-thirty, right on schedule. A small smile tugged at my lips as I stepped away from the vanity and looked at my reflection.

The emerald-green dress had been hanging in the closet for nearly four months, waiting for tonight.

Our anniversary, eight years of marriage.

I fastened a pair of pearl earrings and reached for the delicate gold necklace Theo had given me on our second anniversary.

Other pieces he’d bought me had cost far more, but this one remained my favorite because he’d chosen it himself, back before meetings and private jets and billion-dollar acquisitions took over every corner of his life.

Downstairs, the front door opened.

“Jo?”

Theo’s voice carried through the house.

“I’m upstairs.”

Heavy footsteps climbed the staircase before he appeared in the bedroom doorway, still wearing a charcoal suit that cost more than most people’s monthly mortgage payments.

His tie hung loose around his neck, and his dark hair was windswept from the drive back from downtown Chicago.

For a second he was the man I’d married rather than the billionaire everyone else met.

His face softened.

“You look...” His gaze lingered on the dress before returning to my eyes. “Wow.”

I laughed quietly. “That’s a terrible compliment.”

“It’s an honest one,” he said.

He crossed the room, slipped his arms around my waist, and kissed my forehead.

“I’m sorry I’m cutting it close,” he said.

“You made it.”

“I told you I would.”

He had. When I’d reminded him about our reservation earlier that week, he’d smiled, closed his laptop, and told me nothing was interrupting Friday night, he promised.

Promises had become dangerous things over the years, because Theo believed every one of them at the moment he made them.

Then his mom would call, or his brother, or his sister, or someone at work, someone who needed Theo MacArthur, founder and CEO of MacArthur Capital, one of the youngest billionaire executives in the country. And Theo would go, every time.

I rested my hands against his chest.

“How was your day?”

He let out a long breath. “Long.”

“I assumed.”

“We finally closed the Weston acquisition.”

I smiled. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He studied my face. “I know I haven’t exactly been husband of the year lately.”

That earned another small laugh. “Lately?”

He winced. “Fair.”

“I was teasing.”

“Not entirely,” he said.

“No.”

He sighed before brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I mean it, Jo.”

“I know.”

“No phone calls.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he left it there.

“No emails,” he said.

It vibrated again, and again he ignored it.

“No interruptions.”

He pulled the phone out, held the power button until the screen went black, then set it on the dresser. “There.”

I blinked. “You turned it off.”

“I did.”

“What if your office needs you?”

“They’ll survive.”

“And MacArthur Capital doesn’t collapse overnight?”

A grin spread across his face. “I delegated.”

“I’m impressed.”

“You should be.”

I reached for his hand. “I am.”

That was all I’d ever wanted. Extravagant vacations, diamond bracelets, a bigger house, none of it registered.

People loved talking about Theo’s wealth.

Financial magazines called him visionary, business podcasts analyzed every investment, and our mailbox filled with invitations to charity galas and exclusive events where everyone wanted five minutes of his attention.

If someone had offered me every share of MacArthur Capital in exchange for one guarantee, that my husband would always choose one uninterrupted evening with me, I would have signed the papers without reading them.

Money had never been missing from our marriage. Time had.

Theo glanced toward the garment bag hanging on the closet door.

“Is that the dress you bought in New York?” he asked.

“It is.”

“I was hoping you’d wear it.”

“I bought it because you said we’d celebrate our anniversary somewhere special.”

“We are.”

“You remembered.”

He looked almost offended. “Of course I remembered.”

I searched his face, and he had. The reservation, the flowers that arrived that morning, the handwritten card waiting downstairs beside a bottle of wine, every detail of it.

Hope moved carefully through my chest. Maybe this year would be different, and maybe tonight would end somewhere other than an apology and another promise about tomorrow.

Theo checked his watch before offering me his arm. “Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes.”

“We should leave.”

“We should.”

I slipped my hand through his arm, and together we walked toward the bedroom door. In the hallway he glanced down at me and smiled.

“Happy anniversary, Jo,” he said.

I smiled back. “Happy anniversary.”

For the first time in a long time, I let myself believe nothing was going to interrupt us.

Theo held the front door open for me before following me onto the porch. The early evening air carried the warmth of late spring, mild enough that I left the wrap draped over my arm. He locked the door behind us.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I’ve been thinking about dinner all day.”

“I knew making the reservation at Bellamy’s was the right choice.”

“You remembered my favorite restaurant.”

“I remember more than you think,” he said.

I smiled as we walked toward his black sedan parked in the driveway. “I’ll admit, you’ve been doing pretty well tonight.”

“So my approval rating is improving?”

“Marginally.”

“I’ll take marginally,” he said.

He unlocked my door before walking around to the driver’s side. The engine had barely started when the dashboard screen lit up.

Mom Calling

Theo stared at it for a second before looking away. “I turned my phone off.”

“You did.”

“The car must’ve connected to it before I powered it down.” The screen kept flashing, and he sighed. “It’ll stop.”

The name disappeared, and relief settled in my chest. Nothing had happened.

We backed out of the driveway. Halfway down the street, the screen lit up again.

Mom Calling

Then again, and again.

Theo frowned. “That’s strange.”

My stomach tightened. Margaret wasn’t the type to call repeatedly unless something was wrong.

He reached over and muted the display. “It can wait.”

“I don’t know...”

He glanced at me. “I promised you.”

The words warmed me more than they probably should have, and he kept driving. Three minutes later the screen flashed again, a voicemail notification immediately after, then another incoming call. Theo’s jaw tightened.

“I should just make sure everyone’s okay,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

“If something happened...”

“It might not have.”

He nodded, though his attention stayed on the dashboard longer than on the road ahead. The phone rang again, and he exhaled.

“This’ll take thirty seconds,” he said.

He tapped the steering wheel controls. “Mom?”

Margaret’s voice burst through the speakers, broken by sobs. “Theo...”

His posture changed instantly. “What happened?”

“It’s David.”

My fingers curled around my purse.

“What about David?” Theo asked.

“He, he got into another accident.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t paying attention leaving the warehouse. He backed into another car.” She sniffled loudly. “The other driver says he’s calling the police, and David’s panicking. I don’t know what to do.”

Theo looked straight ahead. “Is anyone hurt?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I, I don’t know.”

My heartbeat slowed. No one was seriously injured, and that counted for something.

“He keeps saying he’ll lose everything.” Margaret’s voice shook. “He’s asking for you.”

Theo rubbed a hand over his face. “Where is he?”

She gave him an address on the other side of the city.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

The words landed between us with familiar weight.

Margaret let out a relieved breath. “I knew you’d come.”

“Stay with him until I arrive.”

“I will.”

The call ended, and the car went quiet. Theo kept both hands on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I stared out the passenger window at the streetlights blurring past.

“You said nobody was hurt.”

“They’re not.”

“So the police can handle it.”

“It’s David.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t deal with pressure well.”

“I know.”

“He needs me.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Of course he did. David always needed Theo, and so did Margaret, and so did Sofia, and there was always someone.

Theo reached across the center console and rested his hand over mine. “I hate doing this.”

“I know.”

“We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The word was older than our marriage.

He squeezed my hand gently. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I looked at him, and he meant every word, which was the hardest part. Theo never lied to me. He simply believed there would always be another tomorrow.

“There isn’t another reservation tonight,” I said quietly.

“I’ll get another one.”

“It isn’t about the reservation.”

“I know.”

Was he hearing me, or was he already standing beside David in his head, solving another problem only he believed he could fix?

He pulled into the entrance of Bellamy’s parking lot and brought the car to a stop near the curb without parking.

“I’m so sorry, Jo.” He looked miserable. “I have to go.”

For a few seconds, neither of us moved. Then I reached for the door handle.

“I’ll call a rideshare,” I said.

His head snapped toward me. “What?”

“You should go.”

“I can take you home first.”

“By the time we get back across the city, David will have called you six more times.”

He looked torn. I offered the smallest smile I could manage.

“They need you.”

The words came easily after years of practice.

Theo waited a moment before answering, his eyes searching my face for permission I wasn’t sure I wanted to give.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said.

“I know.”

“I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week.”

“So have I.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He reached for my hand again. “I’ll fix this.”

A familiar ache settled in my chest. I doubted his ability rather than his sincerity, because I’d heard those words before.

After our anniversary trip to Napa turned into a weekend helping David move apartments.

After my birthday dinner ended with Margaret’s water heater flooding her basement.

After Christmas morning when Sofia called because Lilian had a fever, and Theo spent the whole day at the emergency room with them while I wrapped our presents alone.

Every apology had been genuine, every promise had sounded exactly like this one, and every tomorrow had arrived carrying another emergency.

“You should go,” I said softly.

His shoulders slumped. “I hate that you’re being so understanding.”

A humorless laugh escaped me. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The words hung between us. For the first time that evening, something moved across his face, recognition rather than guilt, as though he was finally hearing how tired I sounded.

“I’ll call you as soon as I’m finished,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

I nodded, because arguing took more effort than I had left.

Theo leaned across the center console and kissed me gently. “Happy anniversary.”

His voice cracked just enough to tell me he hated leaving. I kissed his cheek.

“Drive safely.”

I climbed out of the car before either of us could change our minds. The evening air had cooled in the twenty minutes since we left the house.

Theo lowered the passenger window. “I love you.”

I looked back at him. “I love you too.”

Then he drove away. I stood on the sidewalk watching his taillights disappear into traffic. He never looked back, because he was already thinking about David.

The hostess at Bellamy’s smiled as I stepped inside. “Good evening. Reservation?”

“MacArthur.”

She glanced at her tablet. “Party of two?”

I hesitated. “Actually...”

The word caught in my throat.

“My husband was called away.”

Understanding softened her expression. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s all right.”

It wasn’t, and I smiled anyway.

“We’d still love to have you if you’d like to dine with us,” she said.

For a second I considered leaving, going home, changing into pajamas and pretending tonight had never happened.

Instead I heard myself say, “I’ll keep the reservation.”

“Of course.”

She picked up two menus before pausing.

“I only need one,” I said.

Her smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered. “This way.”

She led me through the dining room, past full tables where couples laughed over glasses of wine and someone in the corner clinked champagne flutes while a server set down a candlelit dessert.

Quiet conversations and anniversary toasts filled the room.

She brought me to a table by the windows overlooking the river and placed a single menu in front of me.

“Your server will be right with you.”

“Thank you.”

When she walked away, I looked at the empty chair across from me. Theo should have been sitting there. He’d been excited about tonight, he’d remembered the reservation, he’d turned off his phone, he’d tried. That almost made it worse, because trying had never been our problem. Choosing had.

A waiter arrived with a warm smile. “Can I start you with a glass of wine while you wait for your husband?”

I looked at the empty chair again, then folded the second napkin and handed it back to him.

“It’ll just be me.”

His smile dimmed. “Of course.”

As he walked away, I glanced around the room.

A man across the restaurant reached over to brush a strand of hair behind his wife’s ear.

Another couple laughed over something on a phone screen together.

An elderly husband stood to pull his wife’s chair out before she sat down.

Small ordinary things, nothing extravagant, nothing money could buy.

I rested my fingertips against the crystal wineglass in front of me. Somewhere across the city, my husband was taking care of his family, and somewhere deep inside me, something I’d spent years protecting began to crack.