Chapter 2

Vivian sat down on the edge of the bed and took one look at how serious I was.

Then she let out a long, put-upon sigh.

"Aaron, I've been working all day and I'm wiped. I really don't have it in me to sit here and go over every little thing.

"Just go to sleep. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow."

She dropped flat onto the mattress beside me, turned her back, and closed her eyes.

The room went horribly quiet.

All I could hear was her breathing leveling out.

Everything I'd meant to say was stuck in my chest, and my throat ached with it. I cried without making a sound.

It was my phone that pulled me back.

A text from the airline. Ticket confirmed.

A flight out just after midnight, tomorrow night.

Vivian and seven years, left behind in this city together.

I wiped at my face, curled up, and fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Vivian was up before me for once, bustling around the kitchen in an apron.

When she saw me come out, she smiled at me, soft and warm.

"You're up? I made you breakfast. Eat it while it's hot."

I blinked, thrown. It had been so long that I didn't quite know what to do with it, and my face tried out a smile.

"Thanks. I won't leave a bite.

"What did you ma—"

I stopped halfway through the sentence.

On the table sat two boiled eggs with the yolks scooped out, a pile of hard, blackened crusts, and a few lettuce leaves gone limp at the edges.

Vivian untied her apron as she explained. "Miles said he wanted a sandwich the way I make it, and we had everything, so I made him one. He likes the yolks and the soft part of the bread, so I saved those for him."

She nodded at the scraps.

"You've got a bad stomach, sure, but that's no excuse to be picky. Finish the rest."

Then she took the calcium milk I'd bought for myself, two bottles of it, and dropped them into her lunch bag.

"Looks like we're almost out, so I'm taking these. Remember to pick up more. Oh, and be a dear and do the dishes for me.

"I've got to drive Miles to work. I'm running late."

The door slammed.

I stood beside the table, looking at the leftovers she'd left on the plate.

I wondered if it was some aftereffect of the surgery, because everything hurt. All of me. I couldn't get a full breath in.

I sank into a chair and cried, hurt and humiliated.

I cried until my eyes swelled shut. Then I got up slowly, and scraped every last bit of it into the trash without touching a bite.

I went back to the bedroom and started packing.

I didn't own much. Seven years, and it came out to the weight of two large suitcases.

It wasn't until noon that the hunger finally registered.

I thought about it for a long time, and then I messaged Vivian anyway.

"Are you free at lunch?"

"I'll come to you. Let's eat. There's something important I need to tell you."

Vivian didn't answer, which surprised no one.

I scrolled through my feed. Three minutes earlier, she'd been commenting under one of Miles's posts.

I set my jaw, copied my own message, and pasted it into the comments under that post.

She replied instantly.

"Busy. No time."

Something in me went bitter, but I didn't send anything else.

I just called her.

"Aaron, I told you I—"

"Twelve-thirty. I'll be at the place across the street from your office."

Then I hung up.

I didn't give her room to back out. I didn't give myself room, either.

I sat in that restaurant until ten past one. Vivian still hadn't shown. I'd decided she was standing me up and had picked up my phone to call again—

Vivian finally walked in.

I opened my mouth, and Miles popped out from behind her.

"Hey, Aaron. I saw your comment, so I figured I'd crash lunch.

"You don't mind, right?"