Chapter 3

The living room light snapped on. The glare made me squint.

Elle had woken up, still a little drunk. She padded over barefoot and looped her arms around my neck from behind.

"Why aren't you asleep? Still upset with me? I know I've wronged you. From now on, whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

She cupped my face in her hands, her eyes dead serious. "A house, a car, even company shares. Take your pick."

I'd heard that kind of promise too many times before. It was as if, every time she did something wrong, throwing money at me was her way of making up for it.

She rambled on, then pulled a velvet box from her pocket. Inside sat a brand-new wedding band.

Before I could refuse, she was already forcing it onto my finger. It didn't fit. It caught halfway, stuck at the second knuckle.

I stared at the ring. It hadn't been bought for me. It had been bought for Rob.

It took Elle a long moment to realize her mistake, and her face fell. She pulled the ring off, then leaned in to kiss me, her breath hot with alcohol against my cheek.

I pulled back. I pushed her away and grabbed my jacket. "I'm staying somewhere else tonight. Get some rest."

I didn't wait for her to argue. I walked straight out.

For years, Elle had always drunk heavily on Rob's birthday. To look after her, I used to stay glued to her side the entire time. This was the first time I'd ever slept straight through until morning.

The sun had barely risen when Elle's call came through, her voice tight with restrained anger.

"Max, what exactly are you trying to do? You won't even sleep at home; you go get a hotel room instead. Where's my hangover tea?"

I answered flatly. "I didn't make any. You can make it yourself. Warm water, lemon, honey. It's simple enough."

Elle fell silent for a moment, as if something had just clicked, and her tone softened. "Are you still angry?"

She seemed to think this was the same as always, that I was jealous over her and Rob and just protesting in a different way.

"I told you, this is the last time. Didn't you say you trusted me?"

I answered without much interest, "I know. I'm not angry. We're divorced right now anyway, so whatever's going on between you and Rob has nothing to do with me. Besides, you said yourselves you're just friends."

There was a bite to my tone that lodged every excuse she'd been about to give right in her throat. All that came through on the other end was her breathing, growing heavier.

Just as my patience was about to run out entirely, Elle hung up. She probably assumed I was just throwing a tantrum. Too bad I genuinely didn't have the time to deal with any of it. Work alone was already eating up every hour I had.

For a long stretch after that, I never once reached out to Elle. If anything, she was the one who kept turning up wherever I was.

One day, after wrapping up a project, I swung by the apartment and found her, uncharacteristically, cooking dinner.

There was a note of complaint in her voice. "What have you been up to lately? Work's really that busy? Why is half the stuff in this house gone?"

It was the first time in ages we'd sat down and actually eaten a proper meal together. Elle talked nonstop, firing question after question at me.

I brushed off every one of them. "Some of it we don't need anymore. No point keeping it."

The moment the words left my mouth, Elle's expression darkened. She pointed at the bare wall. "Where's our wedding photo?"

I glanced up, then looked away. "I put it in the nursery."

The silence stretched out. That shut door in our apartment led to the nursery. Elle had arranged everything inside it with her own hands.

Ever since she'd lost the baby, we'd both silently agreed, without ever discussing it, to leave that room exactly as it was. For her, it was guilt. For me, it was that even thinking about it was unbearable.

"There's still soup on the stove. I should check on it." Elle's voice came out stiff. She turned and left, her retreating back looking almost like she was fleeing.

I sat there with my fork in hand, never once touching my plate, staring blankly into space.

The doorbell rang eventually. When I went to answer it, a delivery driver was standing there with a package. "Is this Elle Shannon's place? There's a delivery for her."

I glanced at the return address. It was from Rob. A suggestive sticky note was stuck to the top of the box.

[You mentioned liking some lingerie last time, so I bought it for you. Remember to model it for me later.]

I set the package down in the living room.

The moment Elle saw it, her face went ashen. She flung the box out the door, then spun around and grabbed my hand.

"That's just Rob messing around, don't pay him any attention. He knows I'm here cooking for you tonight, and he's throwing a tantrum about it..."

I pulled my hand free. "If he's throwing a tantrum, go smooth things over. Didn't you say Rob has a short temper? He might stop talking to you otherwise."

I thought I was being plenty understanding, not pressing her with questions, not making a scene about it. But Elle suddenly threw her arms around me, holding on so tight it was as if she thought I'd walk out for good otherwise.

Her voice came out trembling. "Max, don't be like this. Don't look at me that way."