LOGINMarcus’s POV She led me toward the display table, still talking, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Have you read any of her other books? She used to write these sweet little romances, the kind you'd take on a beach vacation and forget about by the time you got home. But this one? This one is completely unhinged in the best possible way. It's like she finally stopped caring what people would think and just went for it." "Sounds great," I managed. "It's more than great. It's iconic." She grabbed a copy from the top of the pyramid and pressed it into my hands. "The father-in-law character is unreal. He's so charismatic and intense that you completely understand why she can't resist him even though you're screaming at her to just walk away. Every time she tells herself she's done with him, he shows up and she loses all her brain cells. It's frustrating but also weir
Marcus's POVShe hung up before I could respond and I sat there with the phone in my hand and the book on my lap and the weight of everything pressing down on my chest until I could barely breathe. I needed to get out of this car. I needed to splash water on my face and look at myself in the mirror and figure out how I was going to drive across town to meet my wife's best friend without falling apart at the wheel.I shoved the book into the glove compartment and walked back toward the bookstore because it was the only place nearby with a public restroom and I wasn't in any shape to drive yet. The same bell chimed above the door and the same cat was still sleeping in the window, completely indifferent to the fact that my entire world had just collapsed in the parking lot outside.Chloe the cashier looked up when I walked in and her face shifted from recognition to concern. "Hey, you're back. Are you okay? You look kind of pale.""I'm
Marcus’s POVShe led me toward the display table, still talking, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Have you read any of her other books? She used to write these sweet little romances, the kind you'd take on a beach vacation and forget about by the time you got home. But this one? This one is completely unhinged in the best possible way. It's like she finally stopped caring what people would think and just went for it.""Sounds great," I managed."It's more than great. It's iconic." She grabbed a copy from the top of the pyramid and pressed it into my hands. "The father-in-law character is unreal. He's so charismatic and intense that you completely understand why she can't resist him even though you're screaming at her to just walk away. Every time she tells herself she's done with him, he shows up and she loses all her brain cells. It's frustrating but also weirdly relatable, you know?"I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore.The women from the table had noticed us now. One
Marcus's POV The bell above the door chimed when I walked in, a soft jingle that felt entirely too cheerful for the way my stomach was knotting itself into something unrecognizable. The bookstore smelled like old paper and fresh coffee, the kind of smell that used to make Iris close her eyes and breathe deep like she was trying to memorize it. She loved places like this. She loved the creaky floors and the mismatched shelves and the way you could get lost in the stacks for hours without anyone bothering you. I had spent whole afternoons trailing behind her in shops just like this one, holding her purse while she pulled books off shelves and pressed them into my hands. Now I was here alone, looking for a book she didn't want me to read. The store was busier than I expected for a weekday afternoon. A few people browsing the fiction section, an elderly man in the history aisle squinting at a biography of some dead president, and a cluster of women near the front of the store gat
Marcus's POV The house had never felt this empty before Iris started leaving. I noticed it first about a month after the wedding, when she flew to New York for some publishing thing and I came home to a dark kitchen and a sink full of dishes I hadn't dirtied. The silence wasn't the peaceful kind, the kind that settles over a house after a long day when all you want is a cold drink and a quiet room. It was the heavy kind, the kind that made you listen for sounds that weren't there. Footsteps on the stairs. The hum of her laptop from the study. The way she used to talk to herself while she cooked, narrating her own recipes like she was hosting a cooking show for an audience of one. She had been gone three days this time, and the house had started to feel less like a home and more like a museum of our marriage. Her books on the shelves. Her half-finished cups of tea on the counters, left behind in her rush to catch another flight. Her perfume still lingering in the bedroom, fading a
Victor's POVThe photographer's name was Daniel Mercer, and he worked out of a rented studio above a coffee shop in Seattle's arts district. Margaret had the file on my desk within four hours of Iris forwarding me the number, and by the time I walked into that studio on a gray Wednesday afternoon, I knew more about the man than his own mother probably did. He is thirty-four years old, divorced and two years behind on his taxes. A portfolio full of celebrity candids and literary event coverage that paid the bills but never quite covered the rent. He was talented enough to get the shot but not smart enough to understand what he was holding when he got it.The studio was cluttered with equipment. Light stands and backdrops and a desk buried under contact sheets. Mercer was sitting at that desk when I walked in, his feet propped up on a stack of photography magazines, a cup of cold coffee at his elbow. He looked up when he heard the door, and the color drained from his face so fast I tho
Marcus’s POVSunday mornings used to be my favorite day.I would wake up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of Iris moving around the kitchen in her bare feet, humming softly under her breath. I would lie there for a few minutes, just listening, just letting the warmth of knowing she was
Iris’s POV I stared at Victor’s message for a full thirty seconds before I finally typed a response.We need to meet. It is urgent.The three dots appeared almost immediately, which told me he had been watching his phone, waiting for me to say something. I told myself that did not mean anything. I
Iris’s POVI kept my hand over his, my fingers laced with his, and I watched the city lights blur past the window in streaks of gold and red. I should have felt settled. The dinner was over. I had survived. But Victor's voice was still in my head, his words still pressed against my skin like finger
Iris’s POV The house was bigger than I expected. A wide brick place set back from the road, with a circular driveway and tall windows glowing warm in the evening light. Marcus parked behind a line of cars and glanced at me with a small, reassuring smile. Through the windows, I could see people mov







