Chapter 1

When I got home, only one floor lamp was on in the living room.

Ace Hensley still wasn't home.

The vase I'd swapped out before leaving that morning sat on the dining table, the white roses inside already drooping. I'd originally prepared them for our anniversary.

Now they looked more like a small funeral held in advance for our marriage.

I stood in the entryway and slipped off my shoes.

Ace used to say he could always recognize the sound of me coming through the door. He said that no matter how late it was, as long as he heard those sounds, he knew someone was waiting for him at home.

But now I understood.

It wasn't me he loved. He loved having a home where the lights were always on, and someone was always waiting for him.

I didn't go to the kitchen. I went straight to the study. In the cabinet at the very back was the bag where I kept my important documents: my passport, bank cards, my dad's medical records from all his surgeries over the years, and the deed to the small house my grandmother had left me.

None of those things had anything to do with Ace, but they were the things I needed most to take with me after leaving him.

I'd just put the documents into my bag when I heard the lock click.

Ace was home. He changed his shoes while looking down at his phone, exhaustion written across his face after dealing with whatever trouble had come up.

"I finished helping Peyton with everything." He tossed his car keys onto the entryway cabinet, as though only then remembering I was there. "You're home?"

I hummed in response.

He glanced toward the dining room and paused when he saw the wilted flowers on the table. "Still mad?"

He loosened his tie, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. "Didn't I say I'd make it up to you next time? Peyton was moving by herself, and she had so much stuff. Her mentor asked me on his deathbed to look after her. I couldn't just ignore that."

I zipped my bag shut. "Of course you couldn't."

Ace looked up at me. Maybe it was because my voice was too calm. He seemed more uncomfortable because of it. "Angel, you weren't like this before."

"What was I like before?"

"At least you used to listen to me when I explained."

I looked at him. For seven years, he had an explanation every time he broke a promise.

Peyton's cat was stressed, so he had to take it to the vet.

Something was wrong with the plumbing at Peyton's place, so he had to go take care of it.

Peyton's allergies. Her colds. Her move. Her locks. Her insomnia.

Her life was like a house that was always leaking.

And Ace was always the first person to show up with a toolbox.

As for me, I could endure a stomachache. Our anniversary could be made up later. My father's surgery could wait.

Even if the courthouse closed before we got there, we could always go another day to make our marriage official.

I used to think he was simply too responsible.

Later, I realized that responsibility had never been the problem. Favoritism was.

Ace walked over and reached out to touch my face. "Don't be mad. I'll make a reservation tomorrow night and take you to that Japanese place you love."

I turned away, avoiding his hand.

His hand stopped in midair, and his expression darkened. "Angel."

"Ace, I have to go out tomorrow."

"Where?"

"To take care of something."

He frowned. "What could possibly be more important than our anniversary?"

Hearing those words from him was almost laughable.

I didn't answer. I simply put the bag of documents at the very bottom of my suitcase.

Ace saw it and finally realized something was wrong. "Why are you packing?"

"Just taking some of my own things."

He stared at the suitcase for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. "All right, enough with the act. Isn't this just your way of getting me to comfort you? I already said I'd make it up to you. What more do you want? If you're still upset, we'll talk about it tomorrow."

As he reached the door, he added one more thing. "Oh, right. Peyton has a follow-up appointment at the hospital tomorrow. You don't have anything scheduled in the morning, do you? You can give her a ride on your way."

I stood where I was and said softly, "I'm not free."