Chapter 1

Quinn Bayer chose the diamond necklace without hesitation.

Alex Feinn fastened it around her neck himself before looking at her with open admiration.

"You look beautiful."

Quinn laughed softly, then fished for another compliment with a smug smile. "So, who's prettier? Cathy or me?"

"She doesn't even come close."

The way Alex answered without a second thought left me deeply disappointed.

Quinn slipped her arm through his with a satisfied expression and walked toward the car. They looked like a perfect couple.

When she was getting in, Alex held his hand over her head to keep her from bumping it against the frame.

A cab pulled up beside me.

The driver rolled down his window and asked where I was headed.

Watching their car pull away, I said evenly, "Follow that car."

The driver followed their car with practiced ease, keeping a steady pace.

The car stopped outside the hottest date-night restaurant in town, a place that was all over social media.

It was where I had planned to surprise Alex.

I sat at the table I had reserved and quietly watched the two of them by the window.

Over dinner, Alex patiently cut Quinn's steak into bite-sized pieces before sliding the plate over to her. He had never shown me that kind of care.

I suddenly remembered how I had playfully asked him to cut my steak for me when we first started dating. He had snapped at me to stop being so childish.

He could be tender, apparently. He just could not be bothered with me.

Then the lights dimmed. Two servers approached their table, one wheeling out a cake and the other carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

Alex took the bouquet and gazed lovingly at Quinn.

"Happy birthday, Quinn."

Cheers broke out around the restaurant at the romantic gesture.

Sitting there watching him surprise Quinn, I felt like a fool.

On Valentine's Day, I had told him how much I would love a bouquet of red roses, which was a romantic promise that we would always be together.

He had said that we had been together for too long to bother with pointless gestures like that.

The server bringing my food noticed where I was looking and assumed I was just as envious as she was.

"Every woman who sees what Mr. Feinn plans for Ms. Bayer wishes she were in her shoes. He's booked that table for his girlfriend's birthday five years in a row, and he does something different every time."

Memories came flooding back before I could stop them.

On my last birthday, I was miserable with a nasty cold. I had called Alex ten times, but he had not answered.

I was beginning to worry that something had happened to him and was about to call the police when he finally picked up.

"I'm at work. Could you be more sensible and stop calling?"

I had faintly heard a woman's voice in the background and had assumed that she was a coworker.

The year before that, a drunk man had followed me on my way home.

Terrified, I had called Alex for help, only to hear him telling me, "Cathy, you don't have to make things up just because I'm not there for your birthday. Look, I'm busy."

Then, he hung up. When I called again, his phone was off.

On the two birthdays before that, I had been alone in an empty apartment.

I had stayed up all night worrying about him, sending message after message to remind him to stay safe. By dawn, I had not received a single reply.