Chapter 1

I watched the video over and over, dragging the progress bar back again and again just to see the way Quentin York used to look at me when he still loved me.

Just then, the front door opened, and the click of Lena Xavier's heels echoed through the apartment.

Quentin dropped into a practiced half-crouch without a second thought and pulled out a pair of slippers for her. They were pink with little bunny ears, a pair he'd bought specifically for Lena.

She rested a hand on his shoulder as she changed shoes, her leg brushing against his forearm. The whole scene was so intimate it was almost impossible to look at.

It suddenly reminded me of the last time we'd gone out together. My shoelace had come undone, and I'd playfully asked Quentin to tie it for me.

He'd only glanced back at me.

"Jenna Nash, we're adults. Don't act so childishly."

My face had gone bright red. I'd immediately crouched down, tied it myself, and hurried after him.

So it hadn't been that he thought the behavior was childish.

I simply wasn't the person he wanted to indulge.

Lena finally seemed to notice me.

"Jenna, you're home."

She lifted her legs onto the coffee table, then casually picked up one of the throw pillows beside her and hugged it to her chest. She looked completely at ease, as if this were her own home.

But everything in this apartment had been chosen by me, carefully and deliberately, because I'd wanted Quentin and me to be comfortable living here together.

Quentin came back with the first-aid kit and crouched beside Lena again. With practiced ease, he took out a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and gently cleaned the scrape on her leg.

Lena frowned at the sting, then turned toward me.

"Jenna, I seriously don't know how you put up with Quentin as your boyfriend. It's such a tiny injury, but he insists on treating it. He even tries to control how much I drink..."

"So you do know he's my boyfriend."

I cut her off and looked up at her with a smile.

Lena froze.

Quentin's hand stopped as well.

Where neither of them could see, I clenched my hand tightly. The pain helped keep me clear-headed, stopping me from letting my emotions show.

Lena looked at me, visibly annoyed.

"Jenna, you don't seriously think I have feelings for Quentin, do you? You're the one who said the two of you couldn't make your relationship public. I come over all the time because I'm helping cover for you."

She was right.

Quentin had been the one to tell me that going public too early would only hurt my reputation if we didn't end up staying together. That was why we'd spent five years dating in secret.

Quentin carefully placed a Band-Aid over Lena's scrape, then stood up and looked at me with unmistakable reproach in his eyes.

"Jenna, there's a limit to how much you can overthink things. If it weren't for you, why would I bother with her at all?"

The moment he finished speaking, Lena grabbed the throw pillow and hurled it at him.

"Who asked you to bother with me?"

She started to stand, but Quentin immediately pressed her back into her seat.

"Sit down. I just finished treating it."

They teased and bickered with each other so naturally, without the slightest hint that anything about it was inappropriate, that every emotion I'd been about to show was driven back into my throat and lodged there.

The ingredients I'd bought for fajitas were still sitting in the kitchen. I'd planned to celebrate properly after Quentin and I finally made our relationship public today.

Most of the dishes were things I loved.

But now, I supposed they could just as well be our farewell dinner.

The skillet hissed and steamed as we sat down to eat.

Lena sat beside me, while Quentin took the seat across from us.

Lena added a generous spoonful of hot sauce to her salsa. Quentin frowned the moment he saw it and took it away from her. Then he slid the mild salsa I'd already prepared for myself over to Lena instead.

"You just got hurt and you're still eating spicy food? Do you not want it to heal?"

Lena loved cilantro.

I hated it, and Quentin knew that better than anyone.

Before, even if I woke him in the middle of the night because I was hungry, he could be half asleep and still remember to add "no cilantro" when he ordered food for me.

But now, I stared at the cilantro in my bowl for several seconds.

And suddenly, after five years together...

letting go didn't seem quite as difficult as I'd thought.