My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan) novel Chapter 4

~~Luke~~

Lord knows I’ve seen my fair share of beauties. 

But the lady beside me is something else. Not only is she the prettiest thing I’ve seen, but she’s married. Some men are just lucky. 

“So, I’m guessing your name isn’t Maggie?” I ask, trying to ease the tension. 

“No,” she replies flatly. 

I nod, waiting for her to give me something more. “So, what is it?” 

She gives me a slow, deliberate look. I can’t lie, wherever her eyes touch immediately burns. 

“Look,” I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not hitting on you. Honestly, I’m taking a break from women. They’re problematic.” 

She lets out a laugh, a bitter one. “You’re the one who just hugged a stranger to dodge another woman you’ve clearly wronged, and you’re saying we’re the problematic ones? You men are all the same.” 

She downs her drink like it’s water and winces at the burn. That’s her second shot in less than five minutes. I’ve got to say, I’m impressed. 

“Let’s start over,” I suggest, offering her a fresh start. “I’m Luke.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I caught that. Your ‘problematic’ ex wouldn’t shut up about it.” 

“She’s not my ex,” I say. 

“Whatever.” 

Great, another woman convinced I’m the villain. Not even five minutes in and she’s already pegged me as the problem. I guess I deserve that one. 

“So, are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, trying again. 

I can tell she’s got money just by looking at her. She’s probably an heiress or the wife of some big-shot businessman. Those Louboutins, the Rolls-Royce keys sitting on the bar, and that dress—all of it screams wealth. Maybe that’s why she’s not keen on giving me her real name. 

“You don’t have to tell me your last name,” I say with a grin. “But you look like you could use someone to talk to. Since you just saved my ass back there, I figure it’s the least I can do.” 

She watches me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally relenting. “Julie. My name’s Julie.” 

“Nice to meet you, Julie,” I say, extending my hand. 

She takes it. 

~~~ 

Julie’s on her fifth glass of whiskey, and at this point, she’s unstoppable, pouring out her life story like we’ve known each other for years. I’ve already told the bartender to cut her off, but she hasn’t noticed yet. 

“…So, I’m standing there, and they’re both going upstairs. To my room. And do you know what the bitch says?” Julie doesn’t wait for me to reply. “She says I need to move out of my room. My room.” She laughs so hard that she starts coughing. And then, just as suddenly, she’s sobbing. 

I don’t know what to do. How do you comfort someone else’s wife without crossing a line? 

“Julie,” I say. “Are you okay?” 

She shakes her head. “I need another drink.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

She frowns at me. “What? You think I need one more person telling me how to live my life? You can all go to hell. I said I need a drink.” She taps her empty glass against the bar, but the bartender, Mart, knows better than to disobey me. 

“Sorry, I own the bar, and I can’t let you drink anymore,” I say. 

Her eyes narrow. “Oh, you own the bar? Good for you. I’ll find another one.” 

She tries to stand, but I step in her path. 

“Listen, Julie, I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way to go about it. Have you thought about divorce?”