Marrying Off My Husband

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

LOUISE

I stirred my fruity concoction, taking another sip as I eyed the woman in the low-cut dress sauntering past my bar stool. Oh, not for me.

No, I was scouting them out for my husband.

Not like that…get your mind out of the gutter.

I want him to date. We’re only a fake marriage, after all, and it wasn’t meant to last. We were doomed from the moment we said, “I do.”

It’s important to me that he has someone when I leave. Spencer Whitaker is a lovely gem of a man who helped me out when I needed it the most.

He deserved happiness, and he wasn’t going to find it with me. I had no romantic interest in him.

Six months into our little arrangement, and I was eager to break free.

Despite my resolve, soul-crushing guilt gnawed at me night after night, turning what were once restful slumbers into restless hours staring at the ceiling. The weight of our impending separation, and what it meant for Spencer, burdened my conscience.

The door opened, a rush of warm, salty air sweeping past me as the next potential girlfriend walked through the door. My shoulders slumped. She was all wrong.

The attitude, the makeup, the fake tan. Spencer would never take to her.

After sucking up the last of my drink, I waved the empty glass in the air, a silent demand for another.

As I waited, I went over the details of my peculiar arrangement with Spencer. We’d married not out of love but convenience, each with our own motives. Mine was to secure an inheritance contingent on my marital status. His reasons were more obscure.

With my financial future secured, the reality of our arrangement loomed over us. If we couldn’t dissolve this marriage gracefully, we might both face consequences neither of us had anticipated.

I blew out a blubbering breath, flapping my lips as I twisted back to face the bar.

“Why the long face?” the bartender asked as he set down another fruity little number with a pink umbrella.

I tugged the little paper accessory from the drink and whirled it around. “Husband troubles.”

He clicked his tongue, his features pinching with fake concern. Typical bartender. “I can’t imagine a man not adoring the ground you walk on.”

“Your imagination must be lacking, then.”

He rubbed at the marble counter with his towel. What was it with bartenders and their constant cleaning? “I just…can’t imagine a man stepping out on a woman like you. You’re a knockout, and that accent is too cute.”

I offered him a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you appreciate my Southern sass, but the problem isn’t him stepping out on me.”

“Oh? Working too long hours?”

“No. He’s not stepping out on me. That’s the issue.”

The bartender’s cute features twisted with confusion. “I’m not sure I understand. You… want your husband to cheat on you?”

I lifted a shoulder as I dragged the skinny straw through the icy liquid. “Well, yes. I want him to be happy.”

“Maybe you should try counseling.”

I pressed my full lips together as I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, never mind. You don’t understand.”

The man shifted away from me, shooting me a sidelong glance filled with suspicion. It wasn’t difficult to understand.

Not if you knew my story, anyway.

With a sigh, I dug my phone from my purse and speed-dialed my therapist.

“Hello, Louise,” his tired voice answered after the second ring.

“Hi, Dr. Ellis,” I said, the pout in my voice as obvious as the one tugging at my lips. “I feel a depression coming on.”

The sound of the phone moving around on his end crackled in my ears as I waited for his response. “And what’s come up that’s made you feel this way?”

I sighed, fluttering my lips as I stared down at my drink. “I’ve started looking for someone for Spencer. Someone who can make him happy once…you know. I mean, I told you about us.”

“Yes, I remember. And what did we talk about when you said this?”

“That it was controlling.”

“That’s not all I said.”

“You said it was thoughtful, but I didn’t need to feel responsible for his happiness, but it’s not so much responsible as…I just…he’s such a great guy, and he deserves someone to make him happy.” I propped my forehead up with my hand as I waited for his response.

“And it’s perfectly fine for you to want him to be happy, very touching. But not your responsibility.”

I rolled my eyes at the words. “Okay, well, responsibility or not…I’m looking for someone and…I just…am not finding anyone. It’s depressing.”

Dr. Ellis heaved a sigh. “Well, I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself. Remember, Louise, things may not work out, even if you want them too. A lot of this is going to be up to Spencer.”

“But…Spencer is so…backward. He’s gonna need a push.”

“And as his friend, it’s okay for you to encourage him, but you can’t force him to fall in love, Louise.”

I inhaled deeply, pressing my lips together.

“Say it, Louise. I want to hear you say the words.”

I glanced up at the ceiling, biting my lower lip before I forced them from my mouth. “I can’t force him to fall in love.”

“Good. Now, try to enjoy your evening. Don’t force things. There is no reason to get depressed over this.”

“Right. Thank you, Dr. Ellis.” I pulled the phone from my ear and frowned at it as I ended the call.

“I can’t force him to fall in love,” I repeated, my tone mocking. “Okay, watch me.”

I propped my elbow on the bar, eyeing myself in the mirror behind the bottles stacked to the ceiling. “I am going to find the perfect woman for you, Spencer Whitaker. And you are going to fall head over heels in love with her and live happily ever after even if it kills me.”

“Hey, Lou-Lou. What are you doing until it kills you?”

Spencer’s voice startled me, and I sat straighter, my eyes going wide as they slid sideways to find him leaning against the bar.

I plastered a smile across my features. “Well, hi there, husband.”

He grinned at me. Oh, how I needed to find someone who would appreciate that sweet, preppy smile. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She’d need to be sharp, too, because nothing got past Spencer.

“Why don’t we discuss it over a bottle of merlot and some dinner?”

He offered me his arm, his eyes narrowing. He was on to me, and he wasn’t going to forget his question. With other men, I could use my…feminine wiles to make them forget which way was up, but not with Spencer. That man was shrewd as could be.

We approached the ma?tre d’ and were seated in an instant at one of the best tables in the club. Having money makes life easy, and we both had lots of it.

I only had mine thanks to Spencer, though. I wouldn’t have gotten my inheritance had we not gotten married. I owed him for that alone.

I pretended to study the menu as the waiter brought a bottle for Spencer to approve. Once he did, the man uncorked it and poured us each a glass, leaving the bottle behind for later.

“What are you going to have, sugar?” I asked, my voice sickly sweet.

I glanced up to find Spencer staring at me. “Don’t sugar, me, you’re avoiding my question.”

My lips involuntarily tugged into a slight wince. “I’m just trying to find something to eat.”

“Mm-hm. I heard you, Lou. You’re going to do something even if it kills you. And knowing you, it will. I’d just like to be prepared.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Actually, it involves you so I suppose I should tell you.”

“I can’t wait.”

The slight wrinkle of his nose told me he was uncomfortable. My strong personality had a way of making people do things they didn’t want to do sometimes.

I returned my gaze to the menu as the waiter returned for our orders. With those placed, I grabbed my glass of red wine and sipped it before broaching the subject.

As I set the glass down on the crisp white linen tablecloth, I settled my gaze on Spencer. My eyebrow arched again, letting him know I meant business. “I want you to start dating.”

Spencer choked on his wine. “O-okay?”

I understood his questioning tone. We weren’t even divorced yet. But it was inevitable. “I’m serious, Spence. It’s time. We’ve been married for six months. Everything is taken care of with my inheritance. We need to both move on.”

His fleeting smile meant he didn’t agree. “I can call my attorney anytime you’re ready. Are you…ready?”

“More than,” I said with a roll of my eyes before I slid my lips into another wince and stretched a hand across the table, my fake engagement ring sparkling under the lights. “Oh, sugar, it’s not you. It’s me.”

“Lou, I get it. We were never supposed to stay married. I just think…we don’t need to…”

Spencer’s voice trailed off as he glanced at me. The firmness in my jaw made him shake his head. “Whatever you say, Lou.”

I sat straighter, bouncing in my seat. “Oh, Spence, really?”

“Sure, I’ll…if I stumble across someone, I’ll totally ask her out. I don’t know how I’ll explain my wedding ring, but…”

“Take it off,” I said. “Stop wearing it.”

He stared down at the gold band on his finger. “I could…”

“Spence,” I said, my voice filled with disappointment as my shoulders slumped. “Please tell me you aren’t going to use that ring to hide away.”

“I’m not hiding,” he said, “I’m just…not interested.”

I clicked my tongue. “You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding alone in that big old house, Spence. You need to find your happiness.”

Spencer lifted his shoulders, his eyes falling to his plate as the waiter delivered it. “I’m happy, Lou.”

I eyed him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Spencer Whitaker wouldn’t know happiness if it kissed him right on the smacker.

He spent all his time clacking on his keys and avoiding the real world. He made a fortune creating a video game that allowed people to slip away into a fantasy world and avoid the real one entirely.

“You can’t hide in that fictional world all the time, Spence.”

“I got married to you, didn’t I?”

I shot him an unimpressed stare as I picked at my salad. “And now it’s time to find you someone new.”

“Sure,” he said, without looking up from his plate.

I had my work cut out for me. He was going to resist this every step of the way. I pushed a piece of lettuce around the plate as I narrowed my eyes at my soon-to-be ex-husband.

I had to find the perfect woman for him, then trick him into falling in love.

But how could I do that when he didn’t even bother to look at most of them? With a sigh, I returned to eating and making small talk during our meal.

I spent the night tossing and turning, going over every social media profile I’d seen, every woman who’d walked into the bar at the club, every woman I’d ever met and still couldn’t find anyone suitable for Spencer.

I smashed a pillow over my face to muffle the scream that escaped me. I had to find a woman for Spencer. But the task seemed impossible. Could I succeed or would my playing Cupid end up with a shot in my own rear?