Are you jealous yet?

The kitchen table groaned under the weight of overdue notices. Jessie sat across from Tessa, his broad shoulders hunched forward, dark hair falling across his eyes as he stared at the numbers that refused to add up. Construction had dried up two months ago. Tessa's shifts at the diner barely covered the interest on their credit cards. Six months of marriage and already the walls were closing in.

"We are fucked," Jessie said, voice low and rough. He scratched at the stubble along his jaw, the familiar gesture Tessa had learned meant he was thinking hard. "Eviction notice came this morning. Thirty days."

Tessa's fingers trembled around her coffee mug. The panic sat in her chest like a living thing, claws digging deeper with each breath. She wanted to be strong for him. She wanted to believe the promises he made when he pulled her close at night. But the bills kept coming, and their savings had vanished somewhere between his bad investments and the truck payment that always came due too soon.

Jessie reached across the table and caught her hand. His palm was calloused from years of manual labor, warm and steady against her cold fingers. "Hey. Look at me." When she lifted her eyes, he gave her that cocky grin that had first made her heart skip in that dive bar. "We got through worse. We will get through this too. You and me. Nothing touches us."

She wanted to believe him. The words settled in her like a drug she knew would wear off. She squeezed his hand anyway, because walking away was never an option. Not when she had already given him everything.

The mail slot rattled. A single envelope slid across the linoleum floor, black as oil and sealed with a silver emblem neither of them recognized. Jessie retrieved it, frowning as he turned it over in his hands. No return address. Just their names printed in crisp silver lettering.

He opened it. The paper inside was thick, expensive, the kind of stock reserved for wedding invitations or last wills. Tessa watched his eyebrows lift as he read. Then he passed it to her without a word.

The invitation promised two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. All they had to do was prove their trust. The rules would be explained only upon arrival at a private estate deep in the woods. A single line at the bottom caught her attention and refused to let go: If you have any doubt in your trust with each other, then you should not participate.

Jessie leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The tattoos across his forearms flexed as he considered the offer. "That is a lot of money. Enough to clear every bill. Enough to start over somewhere that does not smell like mold and desperation."

Tessa read the warning again. Her stomach twisted. She thought about the way his eyes had lingered on other women before he met her, the stories he had told about his past that he always cut short. She thought about the nights she lay awake wondering if she would ever be enough for a man who craved intensity the way other men craved air. The doubt was there. Small. Quiet. Real.

But the stack of bills was taller.

"We need this," Jessie said. His voice had gone soft, the way it always did when he was trying to convince her of something he already wanted. "One weekend. We drive up, we do whatever they ask, we come home rich. Simple."

Nothing about it felt simple. Tessa set the invitation down and pressed her palms flat against the table. "What if it is something bad? What if they want us to do things that will break us?"

Jessie stood and came around the table. He pulled her up into his arms, one hand sliding into her hair while the other settled at the small of her back. His body was solid against hers, familiar in a way that still made her breath catch. "Nothing breaks us. You hear me? You are mine. I am yours. We signed that paper six months ago and I meant every word."

She leaned into him, breathing in the scent of his skin and the faint trace of motor oil that always clung to his clothes no matter how many times he washed them. His mouth found hers in a kiss that started gentle and turned possessive, his teeth catching her lower lip the way he knew she liked. Heat pooled low in her belly even as anxiety continued its steady drumbeat in her chest.

When he pulled back, his blue eyes were dark with something she could not quite name. "We are doing this. I will not watch you cry over another bill. I will not let them take our house."

Tessa nodded because she had no other choice that made sense. The money was too big. The need was too deep. She signed the acceptance form with a hand that shook only a little, and Jessie added his name beside hers in bold, decisive strokes.

They packed in silence. One small bag each. Clothes for a weekend, toiletries, the kind of things people took on normal trips. Neither of them mentioned the warning printed at the bottom of the invitation again. Jessie moved through the bedroom with his usual confidence, tossing shirts into the bag while he hummed an old rock song under his breath. Tessa folded her dresses carefully, choosing the ones she knew he liked best, the ones that made her feel like maybe she could compete with the ghosts of his past.

Outside, the sky had gone the color of bruised fruit. Rain threatened. Jessie loaded the bags into the truck and came back for her, his hand finding the nape of her neck as he guided her toward the door. "Last chance to back out," he said, but his tone made it clear he did not expect her to take it.

She climbed into the passenger seat. The invitation sat between them on the console, black and gleaming under the dome light. Jessie started the engine. The truck rumbled to life, and they pulled away from the only home they had ever shared together.

Tessa watched the house shrink in the side mirror until it disappeared behind a curve in the road. Her fingers found the edge of the invitation and traced the silver letters. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Enough to fix everything. Enough to buy them time.

Jessie reached over and squeezed her thigh, his touch warm and grounding. "We are going to be okay," he said. "Trust me."

She wanted to. She really did.