Chapter 2

From our apartment to Kayla's lakeside neighborhood and back was about forty minutes.

But Noah left at eleven and didn't get home until two in the morning.

For those three hours, my mind ran through scene after scene like a movie reel.

Kayla was always getting a sudden urge to visit some shop, some stretch of beach, or some waterfront food-truck row.

Did Noah frown as usual, pretend he didn't want to go, and drive her there anyway?

Sure enough, he came home complaining.

"She insisted I take her to Old Harbor for grilled wraps. When I refused, she threatened to call you and complain."

He sat on the edge of the bed, touched my hand, and frowned in surprise.

"Why are you freezing?"

He got up, turned the heat up, and tucked the blanket in around me.

I buried my face in the pillow and pretended to be asleep.

I'd turned the heat down on purpose.

I didn't want him to know my hands and feet had been cold all night.

Noah washed up for bed and lay down soon after.

Before long, his breathing was even.

His phone lit up.

When you pick me up tomorrow morning, grab a cinnamon roll from Harbor Street Bakery, plus a cheese bagel and hot cocoa from the place across the street.

When you come get me tomorrow morning, grab a cinnamon roll from the Harbor Street bakery on the way, plus a cheese bagel and a hot cocoa from the place across the street.

I lay back down.

The group chat the three of us shared had been dead for a long time.

Whenever I sent something, they responded with a couple of throwaway emojis.

So this was where all the conversation had gone: private messages.

I lay awake almost until dawn.

I had barely drifted into a proper sleep when Noah woke me.

The bedside clock read six, an hour and a half earlier than usual.

"We need to leave early. We'll pick up Kayla first, then drop her at the office."

I sat up and looked at him.

"Have her take a cab. I'll pay for it."

"Do you really want to drive that far first thing in the morning?"

Noah's fingers stilled on his cuff link. Then his usual look of distaste returned.

"You really think your best friend will settle for a cab?"

"It's fine, just for these few days."

"Otherwise she'll complain to you again about how heartless I am."

I kept my eyes down and said nothing.

After a long pause, I said, "Go get her, then. I'll sleep a little longer and head to the office on my own."

The sound of water in the bathroom stopped for a moment.

Then he said, "Okay."

I might have said I wanted more sleep, but once he left, I couldn't drift off again.

I boiled myself an egg for breakfast.

I thought about the cinnamon roll Kayla wanted from Harbor Street Bakery, plus the bagel and hot cocoa from across the street.

It sounded close, but driving meant looping around one-way streets, while walking meant crossing two cold, rain-slicked blocks.

When I wasn't there to see it, did Noah still scowl and act put out?

Those thoughts followed me all the way to the office.

I had barely sat down when an email confirming my promotion appeared in my inbox.

The promotion I had spent three years fighting for was finally mine.

My coworkers crowded around my desk, cheering and insisting we celebrate that night.

I agreed, laughing louder than I meant to.

"Dinner's on me tonight. We're going all out."

Someone teased me.

"I'm so jealous. Your career is taking off, and you have the perfect husband on top of it."

Noah and I worked for the same tech company, but in different divisions.

By the time I joined, he had already launched a product that swept the industry. Everyone at the company considered him its young star.

When he was pursuing me, it wasn't just his talent that won me over.

There was also his empathy, his respect, and his quiet, grounded tenderness.

He understood why marriage and motherhood gave me pause.

He respected how fiercely I wanted to advance my career.

He quietly handled the tedious, time-consuming things for me without ever seeking praise.

Noah proposed three times before I said yes.

That day, I told him, "My father abandoned my mother and me. I don't believe in marriage. Don't make me regret this."

His eyes held absolute certainty.

He said, "I never will."

My coworker was still marveling.

"And it isn't just your love life. Your friendship is straight out of a movie. You and Kayla have had each other's backs since high school, and after graduation you stayed in the same city and joined the same industry."

Kayla and I both came from single-parent homes.

My mother was bedridden for years; her father was an alcoholic.

In high school, when the other kids shunned us, we clung to each other as if together we could shut out every judgmental stare.

When my mother became gravely ill, Kayla pressed $600 in crumpled rent money from her part-time job into my hands.

When her father got violent after drinking, I threw myself between them without a second thought. The scar is still on my arm.

We promised we would get out together. When our college acceptances arrived, we sobbed in each other's arms.

"Your life is basically Friends," my coworker said with a laugh. "No money troubles, and love and friendship are always right there."

I laughed harder.

I laughed until my eyes burned and my shoulders shook.

My coworkers exchanged glances.

"I'm just so happy," I said quickly.

"Then invite your perfect husband and your ride-or-die best friend."

I nodded and sent a message in our group chat of three.

"I got the promotion. Dinner's on me tonight. My coworkers want to meet my perfect husband and my legendary best friend."