Chapter 2

After I finished explaining what I had in mind, Yale only rubbed his brow and said gently, "Quincy, I've been tired lately. I really don't want to put this much thought into it."

I'd believed him. In the end, I'd quietly gone online and ordered ready-made favor boxes myself.

Now I understood. He hadn't been too tired to bother. He just hadn't wanted to bother for me.

I took a deep breath and stood. Yale looked up at the sound, his mouth parting as if he wanted to say something, but Nora caught his arm first.

"The photography studio has a new package. Which one do you think we should pick?"

He hesitated, then turned to her.

I picked up my bag, left the studio, and hailed a cab. When the driver asked where I was going, I sat there for a long moment without an answer. I'd lived in this city for three years, yet somehow there wasn't a single place I could think of going.

In the end, I gave him my home address.

Some things needed to be brought to a proper close.

I didn't turn on the lights when I got home. I sat down on the floor by the entryway and called the hotel to cancel the wedding.

The clerk searched for a moment before saying, "Mr. Sutton already canceled the reservation last month."

My ears rang as if something had gone off inside my head.

I tightened my grip on the phone. "Are you sure you have the right reservation?" My voice shook. "Could you check again, please? The wedding reception under Yale Sutton..."

"Ma'am, the deposit was refunded on the seventeenth of last month. It's clearly noted in the system."

The seventeenth.

That very night, Yale had held me in his arms and told me we'd have the wedding in the spring. He'd told me to get ready, and I'd believed every word.

Like an idiot, I'd spent my time touring venues, comparing quotes, choosing flowers, and going over the schedule. All the while, when he'd smiled and held me that night, our wedding had already been canceled for three days.

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor, leaving a crack across the screen. I didn't even bend down to pick it up.

I could barely stay upright.

A while later, the door opened, and Yale came in. He switched on the light, then stopped when he saw me sitting on the floor with my phone beside me.

He came over, crouched down, and reached for me. "Why are you sitting here in the dark? Have you eaten?"

He poured me a glass of water, checked the temperature with his hand, and only then passed it to me.

He had always been like this. Even when he worked until the middle of the night, the first thing he did when he came home was gently touch my hair and ask, "Quincy, are you hungry?"

If I nodded, then no matter how exhausted he was, he'd take off his suit jacket and go into the kitchen to make me a bowl of noodles.

And now he was going through those same familiar motions while still carrying the dessert samples he'd picked up for Nora.

"You know."

His voice trembled slightly.

"I was going to tell you. But you were so busy with the wedding, and I didn't know how to bring it up." He paused before continuing. "I'll still marry you. You'll be my wife legally. I'll handle things with her, and after that..."

"Stop."

I cut him off, my voice shaking so badly it barely sounded like mine.

When we'd first gotten together, all we'd had was each other. We were trying to build a life in this city, so we'd rented a dark, damp basement apartment and struggled through it together.

Yale had gone drinking with clients to bring in business until he landed in the hospital with a stomach bleed, yet even then he'd forced a smile and told me he was fine. I'd gone with him from one office building to another all over the city until I'd worn out the heels on two pairs of shoes.

That New Year's Eve, we were completely broke. All we could afford was one plate of home fries from a food truck. He gave me the only fried egg on top, held my hand, and said with red-rimmed eyes, "Quincy Sawyer, I promise that for the rest of my life, you're the only person I'll ever be this good to."

His eyes had been so bright then, as if he wanted to promise me his entire future.

I looked straight at him. "When did it start?"

Something shifted in his eyes.

"Two winters ago, during those two weeks you were away meeting clients. One night I drank too much, and she brought me home. I didn't let her leave."

Those two weeks had come at the most critical and difficult point in our company's transition. Every day, I'd been buried in work until well past midnight.

I'd thought he was doing the same thing, working just as hard for our future.

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know."

His voice dropped, heavy with guilt and helplessness.

"Quincy, she's young. She didn't know what she was doing. That night... it was her first time."

He looked at me. "I'm a man. I made a mistake, so I have to take responsibility. I owe her a wedding."

His phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen, got to his feet, and headed for the balcony.

"Yale, stop."

I called after him, feeling cold all the way through.

He hesitated, but didn't break stride. Once he stepped onto the balcony, he slid the door shut behind him.

Nora's voice came faintly through the glass.

"Yale! The designer says the train on the main wedding dress would look more dramatic if we made it ten feet. What do you think?"

Yale sent a voice message back, speaking to her as gently as if he were soothing a child.

"Whatever you want. You'll look beautiful in anything."

His voice was so soft with her.

And suddenly, I remembered another winter years ago, when I'd gotten chilblains so badly that my hands were swollen and I could barely hold a pen. Yale had cupped them in his, breathing warm air over my fingers before carefully rubbing ointment into my skin.

Back then, he'd spoken to me in that same feather-light voice.

"There, there. You're okay, Quincy. Someday we'll get a place with real heat."

I slowly sank down against the wall.

Apparently, even promises had expiration dates.