Chapter 3

Olivia had always known that. She'd known it for years.

She'd thrown it anyway.

"Serves you right," she said.

"You ruined one of the happiest days Julian and I have ever had. So don't come near me for a while. I'm busy.

"Take your mother and go."

I hadn't thought she could be that cold.

Eight years together, and there wasn't a scrap of feeling left in her for me. Not one.

My eyes swelled shut. My face went hot and thick. Breathing turned into work.

I tried to ask for help.

Olivia took Julian's hand and walked out.

She never looked back.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

A stranger from the restaurant had called for both of us. The doctor said that if we'd come in much later, the reaction could have killed me.

I thought about the restaurant, and the pain came back in waves.

Then I thought about Mom.

She came in a few minutes later with a bandage on her head, telling me she was fine, that it was nothing.

I let out a breath I'd been holding since the ambulance.

And once I was calm, the decision hardened all the way through.

I was leaving.

Then my phone rang.

Her name on the screen.

"Come home and cook tonight," she said. "I'm bringing friends over."

For a second I thought I'd misheard.

"You put me and my mother in the hospital.

"I can't cook."

Her voice hardened.

"Ethan, what is your problem?

"I pushed your mother one time and now you're punishing me?

"Did you forget what you promised me? You said you'd take care of me for the rest of your life."

I remembered.

I also remembered her saying the exact same words to me.

She'd broken that promise ten times.

"No."

Her tone changed.

"Then I'll send people down to your mother's grocery store. I wonder how much of it will still be standing when they're done."

My blood went cold. That store was Mom's whole life.

"Don't."

"Then come home."

The line went dead.

I went.

Olivia's family had money and reach. There was no version of this where I won.

I wasn't going to let her hurt my mother again on my account.

I cooked. Olivia came home with a crowd of friends behind her, Julian among them.

She held his hand the entire evening, and her face stayed soft the whole time.

A new diamond sat on her left hand.

Julian wore the match.

Something in my stomach dropped.

Then Julian stopped at the display cabinet.

"Whoa. This thing is incredible."

He lifted out an old limited-edition figurine.

Olivia barely glanced at it.

"If you like it, keep it."

"No."

The word was out before I could stop it.

I crossed the room.

"Put it down."

My father gave me that figurine when I was a kid. After he died, it became one of the last things I had that still felt like him. I'd taken care of it for twenty years.

I reached for it, and Olivia swung her purse into my chest.

Her eyebrows drew down. Her eyes were furious.

"It's a toy, Ethan.

"Can you seriously not stand to see Julian happy for one night?

"The man is dying. Why do you have to keep at him?"

My hands started shaking, and so did my voice.

"Olivia. That was the last thing my father ever gave me."

For half a second she faltered.

Then her face closed.

"So what? He's dead. Hanging on to a piece of plastic doesn't bring him back."

Her voice was flat.

"But fine. If you want it that badly, take it."

She snatched it out of Julian's hands.

It slipped.

It hit the floor and broke into pieces.

Something in my chest went with it.

"No. No, no—"

I dropped to my knees and started gathering fragments off the tile.

Julian crouched down beside me, pretending to help. When Olivia wasn't looking, I saw it in his eyes.

Satisfaction. He thought I had it coming.

The anger got out ahead of me.

I hit him.

The slap landed a second later. Olivia's palm across my face, hard enough to turn my head.

Her cheeks were red with it.