Chapter 10 Everything Has Changed

Erika’s POV

Candace showed up at noon in heels and a cream silk blouse, her dark hair blown straight. Her perfume reached me before she crossed the threshold.

I opened the door in jeans and a loose sweater with applesauce on my sleeve from Theo’s lunch.

“I thought we should talk,” she said, stepping past me into the foyer like she’d done it a hundred times. “Woman to woman.”

“About what?”

She set her purse on the kitchen counter and sat at the island like she owned the stool.

Her nails were perfect. Her skin was flawless—high cheekbones, full mouth, dark eyes lined in something that made them enormous. She crossed her long legs, let her gaze drop to the applesauce on my sleeve, and smiled without bothering to hide it.

“I’ve been in Damien’s life for a long time, Erika. Long before you. And I’ll be in it long after this arrangement of yours runs its course.” She tilted her head. “So I figured I should get to know the woman who’s keeping my seat warm.”

I stood there holding Theo’s empty sippy cup and frowned. 

I wasn’t angry, exactly, but something about the way she said that made me grip the cup harder than I needed to.

“Okay,” I said. “Would you like tea?”

“Yes, please.”

I made her tea because my mother raised me with manners. She took it without thanking me and pulled out her phone.

“Have you seen these?” She turned the screen toward me and tapped on a photo showing bright water, white cliffs, and a terrace overlooking the coast. “Amalfi. Three years ago.” She swiped. “This is the hotel we stayed at. That balcony was attached to our room.”

She swiped again and held the phone closer. Damien, in sunglasses, squinting against the sun on a boat. His face was more relaxed than I’d ever seen it and his hair was longer.

“He hates being photographed,” Candace said fondly. “I had to practically wrestle the camera away from him every time.”

She swiped once more. This one she held up deliberately—Candace with her head on Damien’s shoulder at a dinner table, candles between them, his hand resting on her knee. She watched my face while I looked at it.

“You look incredible.”

Candace’s smile went stiff. She’d been waiting for a flinch and I hadn’t given her one.

She pulled the phone back and set it face-down on the counter and started talking about Damien instead. 

Apparently, he hated surprises and had never worn brown in his life. He read before bed every night, always nonfiction, and he couldn’t sleep with the window open.

I didn’t know half of it and she could tell. I watched her sit up straighter, her shoulders settling back. She’d been losing all morning and she’d finally found ground to stand on.

“He doesn’t drink coffee after six,” she said. “It keeps him up.”

I pulled out my phone and started typing.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking notes. This is useful. I live with him and I don’t know most of this.” I looked up. “What else?”

She blinked. Then she rattled off again about the scotch he ordered and his hatred of small talk at parties. I typed every word. She watched me do it, almost preening.

“And he takes his watch off before bed,” she added. “He leaves it on the nightstand. Mine, usually.”

I typed that too.

“We have a date this Friday,” she said, checking her nails. “A new Italian place. He loves Italian.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“I’m good with outfits. Do you want help?”

That stopped her. “You want to help me get ready for a date with your husband.”

“You should look good. He clearly cares about you.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” She grinned, then stood up. “Sure, I’d like help.”

“Come upstairs. Damien bought me a bunch of dresses when I moved in, and I haven’t worn any of them. I’m too used to my old clothes.”

Candace stared at me. “You want to give me your husband’s gifts.”

“They’re just sitting there. Someone should wear them.”

We went upstairs. She sat on the edge of the bed—my bed, the one I shared with Damien—and I opened the closet and started pulling out the dresses he’d bought.

I’d shoved them all to one side weeks ago. They were beautiful and expensive, but I felt like a kid playing dress-up every time I looked at them.

I held up a black sheath, but Candace said it was too safe. The burgundy wrap was better, but the neckline on the green silk one would stop traffic.

“This one,” I said, holding it against her. “He won’t be able to look anywhere else.”

Candace took it from me and held it against herself in the mirror, running her thumb over the fabric. “He bought you this?”

“Try it on.”

She pulled it over her head and turned. It fit her perfectly. “You really think—”

Damien had appeared in the doorway, jacket on his arm. He stopped dead, taking in his wife sitting cross-legged on the bed holding up earrings while his ex was in front of his mirror.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Helping Candace pick an outfit.” I held up two pairs. “Gold hoops or the drops?”

“Those are yours,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but she wants to look good for you.”

“And you’re helping her.”

“You should thank me. She’s going to look incredible.”

He scoffed, then turned and went downstairs. The study door shut hard.

Candace pulled the green dress over her head and folded it carefully on the bed. She smoothed her hair and checked her reflection and went downstairs after him without a word to me.

I heard her knock on the study door, then heard his clipped voice before the door opened and closed. They were in there together, talking, and I was standing in the bedroom holding a pair of gold earrings like an idiot.

I put the earrings down and went to the kitchen. They needed a moment alone. I needed to be considerate.

Thirty seconds later Damien walked into the kitchen. Without Candace.

“Why are you in here?” I asked.

“Why are YOU in here?”

“I was giving you privacy.” I frowned. “You should go talk to her. She came all this way.”

He sat at the island and opened his laptop instead. I stared at the back of his head and gave up trying to understand him.

Candace left shortly after. She squeezed my arm at the door. “Thank you, Erika.”

I was drying dishes when he asked me if I could make him a cup of coffee.

I frowned. “Candace said you don’t drink coffee after six.”

Damien furrowed his brows. “I do.”

“She said it keeps you up.”

“She doesn’t know me that well.” He closed his laptop. “Candace knows the version of me from a year ago. She thinks nothing’s changed.”

“Has it?”

He looked at me. Work shirt, collar open, sleeves pushed up, the hollow of his throat visible. I could see the scar running from his thumb to his wrist and my face went hot.

“Yes,” he said. “It has.”

I nodded and turned back to the sink. “Sorry. You said that already. Never mind.”

“I cancelled the date.”

My hands stopped in the water. I stared at the plate I was holding.

“What? Why? She chose the green dress, Damien. I spent an hour—”

“Because I wanted to be home.”

I stood there, my heart hammering so loud I could hear it over the faucet.