Chapter 4

With that, she turned and walked out.

She didn't come home for the next few days, which suited me just fine.

Then one day, Trevor called in a panic. He said Genevieve had been in a car accident and I needed to get to the hospital.

"I'm at work. I can't go," I said calmly. "If she really needs someone to look after her, call Ethan."

She didn't want to see me anyway. She'd probably be happier if Ethan went.

But when I got home from work, the woman who should've been in the hospital was sitting in the house without a scratch on her. She was just scowling.

When she saw me come in, she washed some fruit and brought it over.

And every day after that, she made me breakfast with a scowl and drove me to and from work with a scowl.

Eventually I couldn't stand it anymore. "If you hate eating with me that much, don't force yourself." It was ruining my appetite too.

She froze. Her face darkened even more, and she said stiffly, "I'm not forcing myself."

Then she lowered her head and kept refreshing her social media. She was probably waiting for me to do what I used to do: whenever she was the least bit nice to me, I'd post about it to show off.

But I didn't post anything. I'd even hidden my posts from her.

The divorce agreement sat right there on the coffee table, but Genevieve acted like she couldn't see it.

I didn't push. My attorney, Nathan Cole, had told me that at this stage, keeping a cool head was what mattered.

That weekend, Ronan and I were throwing a welcome-back dinner for a friend.

I'd just reached the floor of the address he'd sent me when a delighted voice rang out.

"Babe, did you come looking for me?"

Genevieve was overjoyed to see me. She hooked her arm through mine with a smile. "Everyone's here. Let's go say hi, then go home."

Before I could refuse, she steered me into a private room. When the door opened, I could hear what was going on inside.

Vanessa and Trevor were facing Ethan, calling him "Genevieve's boy toy" over and over.

The last time I'd heard that nickname was last year, when Vanessa told Genevieve to bring her boy toy to her winery.

On the way home, I'd joked, "Being called a boy toy makes me sound pretty young."

Genevieve had snapped at me. "God, you're annoying! How old are you? Do you even have a brain? Who are you trying to fool, acting like some young kid? You're nuts!"

So the nickname had never been about me at all.

Genevieve glanced at me nervously. "They're just being silly with the nicknames, honestly..."

I was answering a text. "It's just a nickname," I said offhandedly. "They can call him whatever they want."

Everyone's expressions shifted when they saw her bring me in with her arm around me. Vanessa quickly stood.

"Felix! I totally forgot to invite you to my birthday last time. That's on me."

I smiled and made a few polite remarks before Genevieve pulled me down into a seat.

Ethan's earlier sulkiness was gone. He gave me a sugary smile. "Felix, Genevieve always says you don't like this kind of thing. I actually believed her, but I guess you just didn't want to come."

The old me had wanted so badly to be part of Genevieve's life, but she rarely brought me out with her friends. She said I didn't know them well, and nobody would be able to loosen up if I came.

But now, with the room thick with smoke and the atmosphere this strange, I really didn't want to be there.

Over on the other side, everyone started egging Genevieve and me on to do an arm-in-arm toast. Ethan took it upon himself to bring over the glasses and set them in front of me.

Just as he'd intended, I noticed the watch and ring he was wearing.

Both looked familiar. Genevieve had the exact same ones.

A text from Ronan popped up: [She's here.]

My eyes lit up. I stood and, as everyone stared in surprise, took Ethan's hand.