Chapter 2

This was Rosalie's usual playbook. She'd explain herself, then offer up something sweet to smooth it over, and whether I accepted it or not, she'd act like the matter was closed. As far as she was concerned, once she felt she'd explained herself, I had no business bringing it up again.

There'd been plenty of times I couldn't take it anymore and raised my voice, trying to get through to her, only to watch her look back at me like she genuinely didn't understand what the problem was, like I was the one being unreasonable. More often than not, I'd end up swallowing the hurt whole, playing the mature, easygoing boyfriend just to keep the peace.

I replied: [Sure]

Rosalie could handle spicy food, though she didn't love it, and she'd never once offered to take me out for it before. I should have been happy. Instead, I just felt numb.

I figured Rosalie wouldn't come pick me up, so I called a car.

Sure enough, I was right again. Her office sat right on the way to Diablo's Table, the little spot known for the hottest food in town, and through the window of my ride-share, I caught her smiling as Tyler shielded her head and helped her into a car.

In the past, whenever I'd tried something like that for her, she'd always pushed me away and told me not to be so dramatic about it.

Something in me shifted. I checked my phone and, sure enough, found a string of new messages waiting.

Rosalie: [Tyler's coming to dinner too. He hasn't eaten properly all week with the overtime.]

Rosalie: [He doesn't like spicy food, so I'll take you to Diablo's Table another time. We're going somewhere else tonight.]

Rosalie: [I'll send you the address.]

I turned my screen off and went to Diablo's Table anyway. Rosalie had already canceled our reservation there, so I ended up waiting in line. The place was packed. It took an hour before I finally got a table.

My phone kept buzzing, but I ignored it and focused on eating.

The food was genuinely, brutally spicy, hot enough to bring tears to my eyes. It felt fantastic.

I didn't check my phone until I was paying the bill. Sure enough, it was flooded with more than a dozen messages.

Rosalie: [Are you there yet?]

Rosalie: [Throwing another tantrum? I told you I'd take you next time.]

Rosalie: [Tyler has a bad stomach and can't eat spicy food. You're practically like his brother-in-law. Can't you show a little consideration?]

Rosalie: [He feels so guilty right now he can't even finish his meal. Get over here already!]

Same old song and dance. But it was still more than she'd texted me in the entire month before.

On the way home, I kept turning over the same question: why had I gotten together with Rosalie in the first place?

I remembered it now, that day she'd been rejected for the twentieth time trying to raise funding for her startup, and my design had been sent back for the thirty-fifth revision by my boss. We'd both ducked into the same shop to get out of a thunderstorm and ended up meeting there.

It started as small talk, one line at a time, awkward and stilted. By the time the rain let up, we'd hit it off. After that, being together just felt natural.

I've never believed in love at first sight. I always thought it lacked the weight of time and history behind it, that even if there was love in it, it was the kind of thing that faded fast because there was nothing solid holding it up.

And yet, six years into being with Rosalie, I used to feel lucky, like I'd somehow found the one person meant for me in a sea of strangers, all from that one chance meeting in the rain.

But thinking it over now, carefully: had these six years really been about two people who loved each other equally? Or had I just been the one stalling, all on my own?

Preston took me out drinking. He and his girlfriend were about to start planning their wedding, which meant things were going to get busy, so he wanted to unwind one last time before that happened. Nothing wild, just the two of us.

He couldn't hold his liquor and got drunk fast, though he still kept insisting he'd take me home first. It was funny and a little heartbreaking at the same time; even drunk, my best friend still thought of me first. Rosalie, given the choice between me and Tyler, would always choose Tyler.

I calmed him down. "I'm staying at your place tonight anyway. We can just go home together."

I'd been meaning to take some time to think through things with Rosalie, so I'd moved out for a few days. Preston's girlfriend happened to be away on a business trip, so he'd invited me to stay with him and keep him company through his last few days as a single man.

When I got him home and settled onto the couch, he mumbled something, half-slurred, "Reese, if something's broken, throw it out. Don't force yourself to hold on to it."