Chuck said, "I've got to get back to my friends, Lorrie. This place is too rowdy. I'll have someone take you home."
Lorrie followed his gaze and understood immediately. He wasn't rushing back to his friends. He was rushing to Lylith.
Then, a commotion broke out in the hall.
"Get off me! Chuck already paid for my time!"
Peter Hodgins, drunk and insistent, was forcing liquor down Lylith's throat. He snorted. "You're nothing but a used-up hostess every guy's taken a turn with. Who the hell do you think you are?"
The second Chuck saw that, he dropped Lorrie's hand and lunged forward. His furious swing sent Peter crashing off the couch.
Terrified, Lylith threw herself into his arms. "You paid for me. You're taking me with you tonight, right?"
Lorrie watched the scene unfold, a cold weight sinking in her chest.
She remembered the time some thugs had harassed her at a bar. Chuck's response had been to tell her, "Stop going to those kinds of places," before assigning her a bodyguard.
At the time, she'd been naive enough to believe he didn't know how to say the right thing, that his way of caring was through action, not words.
Only now did she realize he had never cared at all.
A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd.
Lylith's eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor, out cold.
Chuck's eyes flashed with hurt. "Lylith! I paid a fortune just to have you to myself. You were supposed to wait for me!"
He swept her into his arms and strode off, not even glancing at Lorrie.
The crowd burst into hushed chatter.
"Chuck's engaged, isn't he? Why's he suddenly back to his first love?"
"Back then, Lylith left him to marry some rich tycoon. Chuck was so hung up on her that he found over 40 lookalikes just to get over her. You really think he'd stay away from her now?"
"Word is, Lylith was forced into that marriage. This time, her own parents talked the bar owner into turning her into some kind of prize for men to bid on…"
Lorrie had known for ages that Chuck was crazy about Lylith, but seeing him throw himself at her still stung badly. She spotted his phone on the floor and reached down to grab it.
That was when Peter lurched to his feet. Mistaking her for Lylith, he swung a champagne bottle right at her head.
…
Lorrie woke up to find herself sitting in the lounge. Bandages clung to her head, and a sharp pain pulsed through her skull. She was soaked through, reeking of alcohol.
The bar owner kept apologizing, explaining that the police had taken Peter away. He pleaded with her to put in a good word with Chuck so he wouldn't close the place down.
Lorrie gave a wry smile. "Chuck and I aren't even married. My opinion doesn't mean anything."
She hailed a cab, and on the way home, she typed "Lylith" into Chuck's phone. The screen unlocked.
She opened the couples app, and a towering tree filled the screen. The status read, "Watered for 2,899 days."
Lorris once asked Chuck to do a couples' challenge with her. They'd get matching rings for just three days of check-ins.
He'd tossed her a black card instead, told her to buy whatever she wanted, and said the whole thing was a waste of time.
Lorrie opened Chuck's email. His drafts folder was packed with unsent letters, each pouring out his heart to Lylith.
"Lylith, you always said you wanted a private island. But since you can't stand the cold, it has to be drenched in sunshine year-round."
"You told me you envied birds—how they could soar freely and see the whole world beneath them. So I bought millions of drones behind her back. Now you can see every corner of the earth from above."
"You used to say that tattooing a lover's name meant you'd be bound together forever. I couldn't stand the idea of you going through that pain, so I lied and told you I hated tattoos. If anyone's going to do something that reckless, it'll be me."
The more Lorrie read, the heavier her heart grew. Every sweet gesture Chuck had done for her was actually for Lylith. She had only ever been Lylith's shadow in his eyes.
Lorrie turned off the phone, her chest burning as if a thousand arrows had struck at once.
When she got home, she bore the searing pain of her wounds as she set fire to every last thing that reminded her of them.
Next, she grabbed a pair of scissors and sliced through the clothes she'd spent sleepless nights designing for Chuck.
At last, Lorrie faced the mirror, a towel clamped between her teeth, and pressed a white-hot spoon to her tattoo. The smell of burning flesh hung thick in the air.
Sweat dripped down her face as agony tore through her, but she bit down hard and didn't make a sound.
After wrapping her wounds, Lorrie called her friend in Pavrielle and said she was ready to accept the job offer.
Her best friend, Laura Winslow, was thrilled. "The world needs to see your talent, Lorrie. You should've made this decision ages ago! Give me two weeks to set everything up, and I'll send someone to bring you over."
…
Lorrie had fallen ill. Her wound was infected, and the fever burned through her. She opened her eyes to find Chuck by her bed, pressing a cool patch to her forehead.
The moment he saw she was awake, guilt twisted his expression.
"I'm sorry. I lost my phone last night. I had no idea you got hurt until the bar owner sent someone to find me and said you'd been hit in the head. Where's your bodyguard? Why wasn't he with you?"
The memory of Chuck bolting out the door with Lylith in his arms flickered through Lorrie's mind. She turned away, a tear escaping down her cheek.
"Are you mad at me?" Chuck paused. "You said you'd give me three months. I only bought out Lylith for one. I swear, you'll never see me with her again after this."
"Do what you want. Just keep her out of my sight!"
By now, it didn't matter who Chuck picked in the end. Lorrie was done either way.
"I promise," Chuck said, his tone gentler now. "You're the best, Lorrie. You never let me down."
Lorrie closed her eyes, done listening to him.
Chuck had been doing his best to make it up to her. He'd looked after her for two days without bringing up Lylith.
But on the third day, someone showed up uninvited at their estate.
