I married an older woman for money—after her funeral, her lawyer handed me a box that revealed what I truly signed up for

who?”

“Evie.”

“The old widow with the blue house?”

“Keep your voice down.”

He leaned back, grinning. “Damon, that’s not a marriage. That’s just shelter with benefits.”

“It’s a roof, Jesse,” I muttered.

“It could all belong to you if you wait long enough.”

I should have left. Instead, I stared at my beer and said, “I’m tired, Jesse. I’m tired of being cold.continue reading …