Starter Wife (The Jilted Wives Club Book 1)

by Bethany Lopez

  Starter Wife

  The Jilted Wives Club, Book 1

  Bethany Lopez

  Starter Wife

  Copyright 2021 Bethany Lopez

  Published April 2021

  eBook ISBN - 978-1-954655-02-7

  Cover Design by Allison Martin

  Editing by Red Road Editing / Kristina Circelli

  Ebook Formatting by Bethany Lopez

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please don’t participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is also available in print at most online retailers.

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  Created with Vellum

  To anyone who’s ever had to start over…

  Contents

  1. Whitney

  2. Luca

  3. Whitney

  4. Luca

  5. Whitney

  6. Luca

  7. Whitney

  8. Luca

  9. Whitney

  10. Luca

  11. Whitney

  12. Luca

  13. Whitney

  14. Luca

  15. Whitney

  16. Luca

  17. Whitney

  18. Luca

  19. Whitney

  20. Luca

  21. Whitney

  22. Luca

  23. Whitney

  24. Luca

  25. Whitney

  26. Luca

  27. Whitney

  28. Luca

  29. Whitney

  30. Luca

  31. Whitney

  32. Luca

  33. Whitney

  34. Luca

  35. Whitney

  36. Luca

  37. Whitney

  38. Luca

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Trophy Wife

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Bethany Lopez

  One

  Whitney

  “And then I found out he was cheating on me and I couldn’t believe it … I mean, he’d left his wife for me. It just doesn’t make any sense. He’s such an asshole.”

  “Now, Amber, you know we need to refrain from the negative talk.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes, but it was a serious struggle as I sat in the hard plastic seat with one hand holding a Styrofoam cup filled with day-old coffee and the other itching for my cell phone.

  My therapist had recommended this group to me.

  “Whitney,” she’d said. “I think you’d benefit from being around women who are going through exactly what you are …so you can see you’re not alone. Sharing your story would be beneficial for you, and them.”

  I liked and trusted my therapist, so I’d given it a shot, but it hadn’t taken five minutes before I realized she’d really missed the mark with this one.

  No negative talk.

  No bashing your ex.

  No threats against your ex, or their new significant others.

  No self-flagellation.

  Those were the rules…

  The twenty-something currently talking couldn’t be further away from like me if she tried. The only thing we had in common was a cheating ex, but hell, I was pretty sure I had that in common with eighty percent of the population. That didn’t mean I wanted to spend an hour listening to them whine, with nothing to show for it but a sore ass and the taste of bitter coffee.

  Not wanting to be rude, but needing to escape as quickly as possible, I slowly leaned down to pick up my purse, then eased out of my chair and started toward the back of the room where the table with refreshments was set up.

  They had stale donuts to go with the coffee.

  Hoping the leader of the group would think I was going for a refill, or maybe to the bathroom, I exited the room without looking back. When the door closed behind me, I let out a sigh of relief and turned to walk toward the exit.

  “Couldn’t take it either, huh?”

  I stopped, startled, and looked to the right to see two women sitting on a bench against the wall. The first had long, straight black hair and the most brilliant blue eyes I’d ever seen, while the other was small with the body of a bombshell and a smile that lit up the place.

  I looked around briefly, and since I was the only other person there, deduced whoever had spoken had been speaking to me.

  “Were you in the group?” I asked, throwing my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the door I’d just exited.

  “Yeah, for about two seconds,” the raven-haired beauty said as she stood up, stretching well above my five-foot, six-inch frame. “Then I ran screaming from the room, knocking over blondie in my need to escape.”

  With a giggle, the other woman stood up and reached out a hand.

  “I’m Summer and this gorgeous Amazon is Margo.”

  I accepted her hand, shaking it briefly before replying, “Whitney.”

  “Recently divorced I assume,” Margo said dryly.

  “Guilty.”

  “Once Margo picked me up off the floor, we decided to ditch this place and start our own group. Wanna join?” Summer asked sweetly.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, thinking there was no way I could handle more of what I’d just endured inside.

  “There’s going to be alcohol,” Margo said, piquing my interest.

  “And junk food,” Summer added, a hopeful expression on her face.

  “And you can be as negative as you want. I’ll even help you plan any revenge fantasies you may have.”

  I grinned at that. I could see myself really liking Margo.

  “I can commit to one drink and we’ll see from there.”

  “This is going to be so much fun,” Summer cooed, almost causing me to back out right then.

  “There’s a place down the block, Campanella’s. They’ve got a great happy hour and it’s mostly an after-work crowd,” Margo said as she checked her phone. “We should at least be able to get two rounds in before it’s over.”

  “Perfect,” I said, and headed to the door.

  Once we were all outside, we turned our feet toward Campanella’s.

  “So, how long have you two known each other?” I asked, pulling my cashmere coat tighter around me.

  The coat had been a Christmas gift from my ex, Marcus, but I hadn’t been able to get rid of it like I had most everything else. It was too warm and pretty.

  “About ten minutes,” Margo said with a chuckle.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

  “Yea, I’m sure Margo wouldn’t have looked twice at me if she hadn’t mowed me down,” Summer added good-naturedly.

 
“She’s probably right. I was pretty intent on getting out of there as fast as possible and hopping in my car.”

  “Funny, isn’t it. How we were all trying to get away from the group and now here we are heading out together. Three strangers with a common desire not to share our feelings with strangers,” I said with a wry laugh.

  “I don’t mind sharing my feelings and I have a feeling we won’t be strangers for long,” Summer said as she opened the door to the restaurant and held it open for Margo and me.

  It was like going into a portal. From the cool, quiet outside, to the loud and lively restaurant. The bar was full of smart-looking people in their suits and tailored jackets. The women had perfectly made-up faces and the men fresh haircuts.

  It was the kind of crowd I’d loved when I was a young up-and-coming accountant. The kind I’d given up when I’d gotten married and stopped working so I could raise our family and keep house.

  I ignored the pang of regret and followed behind Margo, who’d let the host know with a look that we were taking the last empty high-top table in the bar.

  She obviously came in often and, really, you could tell she fit just by looking at her. With her long legs encased in perfectly straight slacks, high heels that would instantly leave me with a twisted ankle, and a well-cut blouse that was expensive without being flashy. This was obviously a restaurant full of her peers.

  Summer, on the other hand, looked like a sunflower in the middle of a sea of black and navy weeds.

  Unfazed by the fact she stuck out like a sore thumb, Summer hopped up on the bar stool and picked up the tapas menu as she looked around the room with a smile.

  “Wow, lotta hotties here tonight.”

  I nearly choked on my laughter as I tried to get on the stool with as much grace as I could muster.

  “If you go for the type,” I said, glancing around. Because seriously, the men in this place were like carbon copies of each other.

  “Just check with me before you go home with anyone,” Margo said, without an ounce of jest. “I’ll let you know if they’re worth your time or not.”

  “Is that how it is?” I asked, infusing my tone with laughter so she’d know I wasn’t judging.

  “Let’s just say I’ve been having a bit of rebound fun the last few months,” Margo replied with a smirk.

  “Here you are, ladies, a little something to get you started.”

  I glanced up as an attractive server placed a shot glass in front of each of us.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A gift from the guys at the bar,” he replied, glancing behind him.

  I followed his gaze to see three men watching us with matching grins, then turned back to Summer and Margo and lifted the glass in front of me.

  “Let the games begin,” I joked, getting ready to take the shot.

  “Wait!” Summer shouted, startling me so badly I almost spilled the contents. “We should make a toast … to the Jilted Wives Club.”

  “Is that what we’re calling ourselves?” I asked, not sure if I liked the name, but willing to play along since it obviously made Summer happy.

  “Yeah, how do you know we’re jilted wives?” Margo asked.

  “Based on the group session we were all supposed to participate in, I made an educated guess.”

  I looked at Margo and shrugged.

  She rolled her eyes and said, “Fine … to the Jilted Wives Club.”

  We all raised our glasses to each other, tapped them on the table, and did our shots.

  The first meeting of the Jilted Wives Club had begun.

  Two

  Luca

  “Your mother’s hoping you’ll be able to make it to dinner on Sunday.”

  I glanced up from the slider I was currently slathering with sriracha aioli and shrugged.

  “Not sure yet. Things are pretty crazy at the office.”

  Campanella’s was packed, but my father and I often came here after work for a drink or a bite and had no problem grabbing a couple seats at the bar when necessary.

  “And they always will be crazy, son, but you have to learn to balance work and family. It’s important. You haven’t been to a Sunday dinner in over a month.”

  I knew he was right, and I also knew I didn’t want to suffer through another phone call with my mother where she went on and on about how disappointed she was when I missed another family dinner.

  “I’ll be there,” I said definitively.

  Once I made up my mind about something, that was it. I went after it with a single-minded focus and did whatever I needed to do to make it happen.

  In this instance, it would be staying up late on Saturday to ensure I got everything done and was able to be at my mother’s table the next day. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. I loved my family and enjoyed spending time with them.

  But when you were the son of one of your firm’s partners, you tended to either work your ass off to prove yourself or skated by on the family name. I fell into the former category. My father understood this, which is why this was the first time he was bringing up my absence at dinner.

  “Perfect. I’ll let your mother know,” my dad said, before draining his bourbon and signaling the bartender for another round. His head turned toward a couple staff members from the firm who were talking loudly and raising their glasses to another table.

  We both shifted to see who they were toasting and when my gaze landed on the table of three very beautiful women who were ignoring my idiot coworkers and throwing back shots, my world tilted.

  I’d seen, dated, and bedded my share of beautiful women. From models to co-eds, to up-and-coming businesswomen … I loved them all. But there was something about one of the women in that group that made my pulse quicken.

  They were an odd trio. One blonde bombshell, one maneater/ballbuster, and then there was her.

  Decidedly feminine, in her navy-blue dress with white polka dots, which seemed to float around her. Her chestnut hair hit her shoulders and looked incredibly soft, making my hands itch to touch. Her face was captivating. The slight smile on her lips as she listened to her friends and the way her eyes seemed to complete that smile made her seem not only approachable, but like she would be a kind and understanding person.

  It could all be bullshit, of course.

  I’d had plenty of instances where my first impression of someone was way off and I’d ended up with a stage-five clinger on my hands, or on a date with a woman who was so self-involved there wasn’t room for anyone else in her life.

  I was an optimist at heart, however, so I embraced my first impression and vowed to talk to her before I left the bar.

  “Quite an attractive group,” my father said, pulling my attention from the women. “That Margo is a force to be reckoned with, or so I’ve heard.”

  “Which one is she?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew who he meant.

  “The tall dark-haired woman,” he said, eyeing me curiously.

  “And the brunette? Do you know her?”

  He raised an eyebrow and said, “Can’t say I do … Why the interest?”

  “What’s not to be interested in?”

  “Well, I’d guess she’s closer to my age than yours…”

  I took a sip of my drink and grinned at him.

  “Come on, Pops,” I joked, knowing how much he hated being called that. “Age is just a number.”

  My father simply shook his head, downed his drink, and said, “See you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good night, Dad. Drive safe.”

  “You too, Luca.”

  He paid the bill and walked out into the cold evening. Not that I was alone, considering I knew fifty percent of the people in the place. Still, there was only one person I was interested in talking to at the moment.

  I swiveled on the bar stool just in time to see my pretty brunette sliding off her chair and heading toward the restrooms in the back.

  Seeing an opportunity, I picked up my glass and made my way to
the back of the bar to the jukebox, which was near the bathroom. Most of the customers thought it was just a nice piece of nostalgia, but the jukebox actually worked and was stocked with classic rock, top forty hits, and a little jazz.

  I kept a lookout for her blue-and-white dress as I scanned the offered tunes and when I saw her coming, I felt the thrill of anticipation and maneuvered my body slightly toward her.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” I called when she was about to pass me.

  I gave her a onceover, noting her ballet slippers, shapely calves, and absence of a wedding ring, before I gave her my most charming smile.

  When her dark, chocolate eyes met mine, a jolt rocked through me and I knew my initial attraction was nothing compared to seeing her up close.

  “Yes?” she asked, her tone friendly, yet apprehensive.

  “I was wondering if you could help me … I can’t decide between Wicked Game and Fade into You.”

  Her lips quirked up and she met my gaze straight on.

  “Why not just go for it and choose Let’s Get It On?”

  “I was trying to be subtle,” I countered.

  “Oh, is that what you’re doing?” she asked with a laugh, looking down at the ground briefly before meeting my eyes once again and tucking her hair behind her ear in what I assumed was a nervous gesture.