Chapter one

Chapter One

Priscilla’s POV

 

"The number you dialed is not reachable at the moment. Please leave a message, or try again later."

 

Who would've thought this was how I'd be spending my 5th year anniversary. No, that's the wrong way to put it. Who deluded me to think this year would be any different from the others.

 

I stared at the screen of my phone as it dimmed and went black. The clock in the corner read eleven forty-two.

 

Outside, the rain was coming down hard against the tall windows of the dining room. Thunder rattled the glass every few minutes, making the small flame on the candles flicker.

 

The music from the record player was supposed to be romantic, but right now, the soft jazz just felt loud. It filled up the space in the room that Creighton was supposed to be filling.

 

I looked down at the table. The steak was cold, and a thin white layer of grease had started to form around the edges of the plate.

 

The asparagus looked wilted. I had spent three hours in the kitchen making sure everything was exactly how he liked it.

 

I even let the staff go to sleep early because I wanted us to be completely alone tonight. I wanted it to feel like we were a normal couple for once.

 

That was pretty stupid of me, looking back.

 

I pulled at the skirt of my dress. It was a dark green silk thing that I bought months ago because he casually mentioned he liked the color once.

 

He probably didn't even remember saying it. But I remembered everything he said, mostly because he said so little to me these days.

 

Five years is a really long time to love someone who treats you like a roommate they didn't ask for.

 

I still loved him, though. That was the most annoying part of all of this.

 

Every time he gave me a tiny bit of attention, like holding my hand for a second too long or looking at me with something close to warmth, I fell right back into it.

 

I woke up at five this morning just to make his favorite breakfast before he left for work. He had looked at the plate, taken two bites of toast, and told me he had an early meeting.

 

He didn't even look at the calendar on the fridge where I had drawn a little red heart over today's date.

 

I thought maybe he was just trying to surprise me later. I spent the whole afternoon convinced he was going to walk through the door with flowers and that look he used to give me when we first met.

 

The headlights of a car cut through the dark living room windows, throwing long shadows across the walls.

 

My heart did a stupid little flip, and I stood up so fast I almost knocked my chair over. He was finally home.

 

The relief was so heavy it made my knees feel a bit weak. I smoothed down my dress and took a deep breath, trying to wipe the annoyed look off my face.

 

I didn't want to start our anniversary with a fight. I wanted to be nice.

 

The heavy front door clicked open, and the cold wind from outside rushed into the hallway.

 

"Creighton?" I called out, walking toward the foyer. "I saved you some dinner. I can heat it up."

 

The words caught in my throat when I saw who was standing next to him.

 

Chloe Harrington was shaking out her wet umbrella, looking like she had just stepped off a movie set despite the storm. Her hair was perfectly damp in a pretty way, and she was smiling.

 

She was also wearing Creighton’s suit jacket around her shoulders. It was way too big for her, and the sleeves covered her hands.

 

Creighton looked up at me, his face completely flat. He didn't look guilty at all.

 

"Priscilla," he said, his voice smooth and calm. "Chloe’s back in town."

 

"Hi, Priscilla," Chloe said, giving me a small, sweet wave from inside his jacket. "I’m so sorry to crash like this."

 

I just stood there, looking from him to her. The silence in the hallway was so loud I could hear the rain hitting the roof again.

 

"Her flight got in from overseas this afternoon," Creighton explained, stepping past me to take off his coat. "She had a severe panic attack at her hotel earlier. I couldn't just leave her there by herself."

 

"Her divorce just went through," he added, as if that explained why he missed our anniversary dinner.

 

"It was just so awful, Priscilla," Chloe said, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. "The walls felt like they were closing in. Creighton has always been the only one who can calm me down when it gets that bad."

 

She looked up at him with this look that made my stomach turn over.

 

"I told him he should come home to you, but he insisted," she said, turning her big eyes back to me. "He has always taken such good care of me."

 

"It’s fine," I lied. My voice sounded small, even to me. "I made plenty of food. You should eat."

 

I turned around before they could see my face change. I walked back into the dining room and started grabbing the cold plates to take them to the dining area.

 

They followed me in a minute later. Creighton sat down at the head of the table, and Chloe took the seat right next to him, the seat I had been sitting in all night.

 

I set the reheated plates down in front of them. Creighton picked up his fork but just pushed a piece of meat around without eating it.

 

"Wow, Priscilla, you really went all out," Chloe said, looking at the candles. "Is it a special occasion?"

 

Creighton didn't say anything. He didn't look at me either.

 

"It's nothing serious. Just a random Tuesday," I said, sitting down at the far end of the table.

 

"Oh, good," Chloe laughed, a little musical sound that made me want to cover my ears. "I would feel terrible if I interrupted something important."

 

She turned to Creighton then, reaching out to touch his arm.

 

"Do you remember that time in high school when it rained like this?" she asked him. "We got stuck under the bleachers for three hours because the field flooded."

 

Creighton actually smiled. It was a real smile, the kind I had not seen in months.

 

"You cried because your shoes got ruined," he said.

 

"They were expensive," she pouted, leaning closer to him. "But you carried me all the way to your car so I wouldn't have to walk in the mud."

 

I sat there at the end of the table, watching them talk. They had a whole language of old jokes and memories that I had no part of.

 

I felt like a stranger sitting in my own dining room. I felt like the person who had rented the space for them to hang out.

 

Every time I tried to say something, Chloe would bring up another story from their childhood, subtly pushing me out of the conversation.

 

Creighton didn't try to include me either. He just listened to her, his attention completely locked on her face.

 

By the time midnight came around, Chloe finally said she was tired and needed to get back to her hotel.

 

Creighton called a car for her and walked her out to the porch. I stayed in the dining room, listening to the murmur of their voices over the sound of the rain.

 

When he came back inside, he didn't even look at the table. He just went straight upstairs to his office without saying a word to me.

 

Not even a goodnight.

 

I carried the rest of the plates into the dark kitchen and stacked them in the sink.

 

The house felt bigger and emptier than it had before they arrived.

 

I turned on the faucet, letting the hot water run over my hands. I picked up a sponge and started scrubbing at a plate, staring at the bubbles.

 

Suddenly, the kitchen counter felt like it was tilting under my hands.

 

The lights overhead seemed to blink, and a weird wave of heat washed over my neck.

 

My head was spinning, a sharp, heavy dizziness that made me drop the sponge back into the water.

 

I gripped the edge of the marble counter, closing my eyes tight to try and make the room stop moving.

 

A heavy wave of nausea hit me right in the center of my chest, making me gasp for air.

 

Oh, God. Being sick was the least thing I wanted. Not when I've just had a horrible day.