Chapter 1

Eight years I've waited to marry him. Now his mother is telling me I have to let him sleep with his ex-girlfriend for three nights.

"It's tradition."

I stare at her. Then at Ethan. Then at the woman she just pulled into the room — long legs, glossy hair, smiling at me like she already knows how this ends.

"This is Raelynn," Mrs. Monroe says, patting her hand, "Ethan's first love. They've known each other forever."

"And in our family," she goes on, voice silky, "before a man marries, he spends three nights with his first love. To say thank you. It's how it's always been done."

I almost laugh. I turn to Ethan, waiting for him to shut this insanity down.

He doesn't.

He just leans back on the couch, smirking. "It's a tradition, Val. If you want to marry me, you respect where I come from."

Then, softer — that little tilt of his head he uses when he wants something, "Come on, baby. Eight years you waited. You can handle three nights."

Everyone in the room is waiting for me to lose it. Scream. Throw a vase. Walk out.

I don't.

I smile. "Okay. I accept."

Three days later, our wedding goes off perfectly.

That night, when Ethan kicks open the door to the honeymoon apartment, his groomsmen cheering drunkenly behind him —

There's already a man in our bed!

I step out of the bathroom in a silk robe, drying my hair, and give Ethan a slow, sweet smile.

"Forgot to mention, babe. My family has a tradition too. On the wedding night, the bride have to sleep with her ex first. In front of her husband."

...

The day I told Ethan okay, he packed a bag and moved into Raelynn's apartment. Didn't even kiss me goodbye. Three days. Zero texts. Zero calls.

The night before the wedding, I tracked him down at a rooftop bar downtown. I could hear them before I opened the door.

"Honestly, Ethan, you're a legend. First love AND a hot fiancée? Some men have all the luck."

I push the door open. The laughter dies.

Ethan's draped on the couch with Raelynn tucked under his arm. He raises an eyebrow at me. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to interrupt the reunion," I say flatly.

One of his friends jumps in fast, fake-bright, "Val, listen, this is actually a thing in a lot of families. You sleep with the ex one last time, then you close the door forever. It shows you take the marriage seriously."

"After tonight, Rae's done. He's all yours, promise."

"Mm." I nod. "I understand."

"See? Val gets it. Ethan, you trained her well."

Something flickers across Ethan's face. Amusement. He likes that.

Someone gets bold. "Hey, last night of freedom, right? Let's make it count. Ethan — kiss Rae. French. We haven't seen that since you two were nineteen."

Ethan smiles slow. Pulls Raelynn into his lap. And kisses her — deep, wet, hands in her hair — right in front of me.

I look away.

"Ethan." My voice doesn't shake. "I came to remind you. Wedding's at noon. Don't be late."

I turn to leave. Behind me, one of his buddies snickers.

"Damn, Ethan. She watched you make out with your ex and didn't even blink. What a wife. Where do I get one?"

And then Ethan — lazy, smug, loud enough for me to hear.

"She's been with me eight years. Three miscarriages. Doctor said she can't have kids anymore. Who else would even take her?"

I freeze in the doorway.

The deepest wound I have. Tossed out like a punchline.

I take a deep breath.

Ethan thinks all of that broke me. He thinks I'm damaged goods nobody else would take.

But he's wrong about a lot of things.

The truth is — my body is just fine.

And he is the one who's nothing without me.