Eleven months into our arrangement.

One more month.

One more month and the inheritance would be secure. Derek's legal challenge had crumbled. The lawyers were satisfied we were "genuinely reconciling."

One more month and I could walk away with half of everything and never see Ethan again.

Except somewhere between month three and month eleven, I'd stopped wanting to walk away.

We'd broken our "no sex" rule so many times I'd lost count. What started as weekly family dinners became me staying over most nights. My toothbrush in his bathroom. My clothes in his closet. Morning coffee made exactly how I liked it.

We still hadn't talked about what happened...