Chapter 1

Every April Fools' Day, my husband Liam Whitaker played the same private dare game with his childhood best friend, Sophie Reed.

"Remember eighth grade?" Sophie said with a laugh. "I dared you to sneak into the school's PA room and read some ridiculous April Fools' announcement—and you actually went through with it."

Liam leaned back in his chair, a warm, nostalgic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That was nothing. Freshman year of college, I dared you to steal the dean's glasses—and you walked off with his toupee too."

Sophie glanced up and saw me.

Then she lifted her chin, turned to Liam, and drawled, “Then let’s make today’s dare a big one. Liam Whitaker, do you dare to marry me right now?”

Whistles erupted around the room.

Liam turned and looked at me. Then he laughed. “Why wouldn’t I? Give me a minute.”

He stood, walked over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the hallway.

“Claire, everyone’s watching. Don’t ruin the fun.” His tone was light, as if what he was asking were perfectly reasonable.

“It’s just an April Fools’ joke. Play along and let’s get divorced first. Tomorrow morning, we’ll get married again. I can’t back down in front of Sophie.”

I stared at the man in front of me.

For the sake of his so-called childhood game, I had swallowed my humiliation for five years.

This time, I hid my hand behind my back and tightened my grip on that piece of paper.

“But I’m pregnant.”

…

“Claire, that’s brilliant!” Liam froze for half a second, then burst out laughing. “You made up a pregnancy just to stop me from winning? Damn. Looks like you’re better at April Fools’ than I am.”

Sophie sighed sweetly. “Claire, it’s just a game. If you can’t handle losing, just say so. Joking about a baby is pretty awful.”

"Exactly." Liam seized my wrist, his grip painfully strong. "Come on. Hurry up. The judge is off the bench at five—if we don't make it, this doesn't happen today. How am I supposed to marry Sophie then?"

He dragged me outside with long, urgent strides.

Five years.

My books had built Blue Harbor Media from nothing into a major publishing company.

Yet every year, I had to endure the absurd humiliation he put me through on April Fools’ Day for Sophie’s sake.

On the way to the Clark County courthouse, Liam drove far too fast.

At the Clark County Family Court, Liam shoved the divorce papers in front of me.

"Sign it. The judge is waiting. I still have to marry Sophie after this." He tapped the table impatiently.

I picked up the pen and looked at the name on the page.

Liam Whitaker.

“Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

I signed without hesitation.

By the time we walked out of the courthouse, five years of marriage had been reduced to a joke.

Once the divorce decree was signed, Liam walked to the car and changed into a brand-new suit. Sophie pulled out a white veil and pinned it into her hair.

They had even booked a makeup artist in advance.

The two of them sat beneath a ring light while the makeup artist touched up their faces.

I sat in a chair and watched.

Five years ago, when Liam and I got married, he had worn a T-shirt, ripped jeans, and flip-flops.

When I reminded him to change, he said true love didn’t need to be dressed up. What mattered was that it was real.

Now he stood in a perfectly tailored suit, one arm wrapped tightly around Sophie’s waist, smiling brightly at the camera.

Click.

A perfect couple, captured forever.

Not long after, Liam walked back holding a marriage certificate with Sophie's name on it.

"Babe, see this? I won again. We'll remarry first thing tomorrow morning, so don't be mad. Consider it a souvenir."

The nausea of early pregnancy churned in my stomach. I was almost too weak to stand.

“Take me home,” I said, forcing down the bile rising in my throat. “I need to pack.”

I opened the passenger door, but before I could get in, Sophie squeezed past me.

“Claire, if we’re acting, we should do it properly. Since Liam and I just got married, obviously I should sit up front.”

She opened the door and slid into the seat as if it were her right.

With one casual sweep of her hand, she knocked the small pillow and plush charm I kept there onto the floor mat.

Liam stood by the hood and gave me a halfhearted apologetic shrug.

I turned and walked toward the curb to call a rideshare.

Liam caught up in a few strides, opened the rear door, and pushed me inside.

“Stop throwing a tantrum. It’s hard to get a car here. Just get in and behave.”

Bruno Mars’s “Marry You” was playing in the car.

Sophie hummed along to the chorus, tugging playfully at Liam’s sleeve.

Liam picked up the next line right on cue. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

She opened a bottle of water, took a sip, and then held it to Liam’s mouth.

Liam drank from her hand like a newlywed husband.

“Liam, your collar’s crooked.” Sophie turned sideways and reached out to straighten his tie.

Her fingertips brushed his throat. She leaned halfway across the console.

Liam didn’t move away. Instead, he kept one hand on the wheel and slid the other around Sophie’s back.

“Stop it. I’m driving,” he said, but his voice was full of indulgence.

I leaned against the rear window as nausea rolled through me again.

I closed my eyes and placed a hand over my lower abdomen.

Today, this joke should finally end.