Chapter 8

Dorian laughed in disbelief.

"Apologize? Check the security cameras before you decide who owes whom an apology."

She hadn't even looked at the footage before deciding he had pushed Elias toward the stairs.

"Elias is sick!" Marielle snapped. "You think he'd deliberately risk hurting himself?"

Panic flashed across Elias's face.

"Forget it, Marielle. He's upset. I understand why he'd lash out. Let's go."

"No. He's apologizing."

Dorian stood his ground. He wouldn't admit to something he hadn't done.

Elias realized that if they kept arguing, Marielle might actually ask for the camera footage. He clutched his stomach and complained that he felt ill.

Her anger instantly became concern. She supported him and hurried off to find a doctor.

Dorian watched them leave, a familiar ache spreading through him.

Twenty years of friendship and five years together hadn't earned him even a moment's benefit of the doubt.

At least he'd finally seen the truth. He could still walk away.

Marielle didn't return home that night. Dorian assumed she was tending to Elias at the hospital.

The day before his departure, he shipped the luggage he'd packed to the research facility, keeping only a backpack.

That evening Marielle came home, still furious.

"Elias is lying in a hospital bed. Even if you didn't mean to hurt him, couldn't you be the bigger person? Why do you have to argue over everything?"

The bigger person?

Dorian thought he'd been remarkably generous. He'd let Elias use his wedding suit and photographer, and accepted that the woman he was supposed to marry was carrying Elias's child. Now he was giving up his place beside her altogether.

Marielle noticed the date circled in red on the calendar. Her expression eased.

"We're getting married tomorrow. I'm not arguing with you tonight. After the wedding, apologize to Elias. Then we can go on our honeymoon. Have you planned the itinerary?"

Dorian said nothing.

If she'd paid any attention, she would have noticed there wasn't a single wedding decoration in the apartment.

"We..." he began.

Her phone rang. Elias's voice came through, and her face tightened with worry.

"Just stay there. I'll be right over."

She hung up and headed for the door.

"Elias isn't feeling well. I need to check on him. I'll be back before the ceremony. Go to the hotel first thing tomorrow and wait for me there."

The door closed behind her.

Only then did Dorian finish the sentence he'd been trying to say.

"We're over, Marielle. The wedding is canceled."

His words disappeared into the empty apartment. The only answer was the ticking wall clock.

He stayed on the living-room couch until dawn, watching the windows change from black to gray.

His phone buzzed with a reminder: two hours until boarding.

Dorian collected his backpack, took a marker, and drew a heavy X through the tenth on the calendar.

Beneath it he wrote, "Marielle, we're breaking up."

He left the calendar where she couldn't miss it.

Then he took one last look at the home where he'd spent five years of his life, stepped outside, and hailed a cab to the airport.

Goodbye, Marielle.