“Hello, Ethan,” she greets him in a quiet voice.

“Gracie,” he replies, his voice sounding strangled. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. My head whips back and forth between the two of them, and I’m sure I look as confused as I feel. “Do you know each other?” I ask, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as I look at Stone. I think deep down I already know the answer to that question.

“I should say so,” Stone answers quietly, his voice laced with irony as he gives me a small, apologetic smile. What he says next rocks my world. I will never be the same again. “She’s my wife.”

I’m almost certain I didn’t hear him correctly. “Your what?” I ask, hating that my voice has suddenly taken on a pitch much like Mickey Mouse.

Stone nods, his eyes piercing me. “My wife,” he confirms.

I feel as though the room is suddenly spinning. His face in front of me is blurry, and my legs are shaking.

“Shan, are you all right?” I hear his voice ask me that question, but it sounds so far away. I want to laugh, I want to cry… but I feel numb.

“Stone,” I hear Grace speaking quietly. “Can I talk to you? Privately?” Stone glances over at me, and I mutely nod my head. Holding the edge of the bar for support, I drag my feet one after the other into the office, closing the door behind me.

I fall into the chair and stare at the wall, not really seeing anything. My hands blindly reach for the decanter that sits on the desk. It belonged to Daddy and is just another part of the bar I refuse to change. I pour myself a glass of whiskey, down it fast and pour another. My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop the decanter as I put it down on the desk and recap it.

He’s married. That thought plays over and over like a bad song in my head.

He’s fucking married.

How could I be so stupid? Don’t get involved with another damaged man. That’s what I’d been telling myself for the past year, but at the first sign of someone needing me, I’d jumped at the opportunity.

With Troy, it’d been love at first sight. He’d swept into town on his black Harley Davidson, his short, black hair spiked into points, tattoos covering both of his arms and flashing that killer smile at me. He was so unlike any of the other boys in our town, and just what I needed to distract me from an overprotective father. For the first time in my life, someone was actually paying attention to me. Not just someone, a boy. And for the first time in my life, it wasn’t just to get close to my prettier, younger sister, Natalie. It didn’t take Troy long to seduce me with stories about the city, and before I knew it, I was nineteen years old, speeding off on the back of his Harley as we ran away together. For me, it was about running away from my awkwardness, my responsibilities. I was no longer ‘Shannon Harper, eldest daughter of Darius, older sister and mother figure of Natalie’. In the city, I was simply Shan – a curly haired, wide-eyed young girl, free to finally be herself.

Or so I’d thought.

Things were so different in the city, and it didn’t take me long to realize I was a fish out of water.

The first time I saw Troy selling drugs, I was shocked. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Daddy had always instilled in us girls the dangers of peer pressure. But Troy took me in his arms and kissed away my fears. “This will pay for your dreams, kitten,” he’d tell me, pleading with me to understand.

And I thought I did understand. I thought Troy just wanted to give me everything I wanted in life.

But I was never given the opportunity. Six months after moving to the city, my dream turned into a nightmare. Even now, I can see her face, lifelessly looking back at me in the water. It was him. I know it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I sit back on the chair and use my feet to slowly swivel around until I’m facing toward the window. My eyes widen in surprise as I notice it’s already dark. How long have I been sitting here?

I try to stand and almost immediately stumble and drop to my knees. A glance at the desk shows the empty decanter. Fuck.

Gripping the edge of the table, I carefully make it to my feet and peer through the window out into the main bar area. It’s empty. I vaguely recall Ruth coming into the office once. Stone must have called her to take over the bar for the night shift. I should feel a little bad about that, but instead I’m relieved. I don’t think I could have handled being nice to the customers tonight.

As I exit the office, the door of the bar opens. I pause, cursing under my breath. It’s closing time; I don’t want to deal with this shit right now. I force a smile and turn around, but that smile falters when I see Effie standing at the bar, a short, pudgy man by her side. He looks ridiculous, like a fat version of the Monopoly man. “Hi, Effie,” I say in my most polite voice, hobbling over to the bar. “I’m afraid we’re closed.”

“Yes,” Effie replies, staring down her nose at me in disdain. “I can see why.”

I blush as I glance at my reflection in the mirror that hangs on the wall behind the bar. My eyes are red from crying and the eyeliner I’d hurried to apply this morning in the office before opening the bar has streaked across my cheekbones, giving me the ultimate panda look. I’d thrown my hair up in a loose bun earlier without brushing it, and pieces of hair are sticking up all over my head. No question, I’m a fucking mess. “What do you want, Effie?” I ask, smothering my question with a yawn as I cover my mouth. I’m tired, I’m drunk and I just want to go home. I glance over at Monopoly Man, who’s leering at me in a way that unsettles me.

“I want you to meet Mr. Harold Kensington.” Effie beams, linking her arm through his. “Mr. Kensington, Shannon Harper.”

“Miss Harper,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes my offered hand and places a chaste kiss on the back of it. I smile weakly as he releases it and resist the urge to wipe my hand on the mini-skirt I still wear. His lips are cold and wet. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you meeting us here tonight,” he’s saying.

I glance at him, then over at Effie. She must sense my confusion, because she smirks. “Mr. Kensington has graciously agreed to buy this . . . this bar.” She spits the word out as though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

I take a step back from the bar, my guard instantly up. “I already told you, Effie,” I remind her. “I’m not interested in selling Daddy’s bar.”

“I know what you said.” Effie waves away my words. “But you’ll think differently when you see this.” She produces a single sheet of folded paper from her purse and holds it out to me expectantly.

“What is this?” I ask, gingerly plucking it from her outstretched fingers and unfolding it.

As I read, I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips. Surely this has to be some kind of mistake. There’s no way Daddy could have borrowed this much money.

“It says Darius borrowed more than two hundred thousand dollars from me in the summer of 1998 to refurbish this bar. Since his passing, that debt has fallen to you, Miss Harper,” Kensington says grimly.

I feel the room starting to spin, and I grip the edge of the bar for support. “I-I don’t have that kind of money,” I stammer weakly. Could any of this be true?

Mr. Kensington nods. “I know,” he says, matter-of-factly. “This is why I’m prepared to buy this establishment from you at a slightly reduced rate, to cover your daddy’s debt and even leave you a little extra.”

I shake my head vehemently. “How could I not know about this?” I demand. “I’ve been running this bar for over a year. If any of this were true, I would have found some kind of record.”

“Incorrect,” Effie exclaims. “Your daddy’s business with Mr. Kensington was conducted, shall we say, under the table?”