Chapter 3

I went back to the apartment I'd shared with Avery for a year.

On paper it was the home we were going to be married out of, and the curtains were the near-black I hate most.

The floors were gray tile instead of the warm wood I'd wanted.

Even the art on the walls was that grim, shadowy style that made my chest tighten if I looked at it too long.

More than once I'd said the place felt oppressive and asked whether we could change the palette, or at least swap out some of the decor.

Avery never answered. She never even looked up.

Maybe she didn't hear me.

Or maybe she heard me perfectly and didn't care.

I didn't turn on the lights. In the dark I wrote a short resignation letter, bought a one-way ticket home, shut off my phone, and went to sleep.

At four in the morning the door banged open.

Avery came in and hit the bedroom light.

The white glare went through my eyes like a blade.

"Lucas, why would you take off without a word? Do you have any idea how worried Mason and I were?"

I squinted and rasped back, "Worried enough to come home at sunrise?"

She faltered. Her voice lost some of its edge.

"That's — that's because we were out looking for you. Mason got so upset he was crying. I had to calm him down first."

I gave her a flat smile and held up my phone. "Is this how you calm him down?"

On the screen, Avery was on Mason's back with her mouth against his ear.

The room went quiet for several seconds.

Avery cleared her throat. Something guilty went through her eyes.

"I'm short. I couldn't see over anybody. He gave me a lift for a second. You're seriously jealous of your own best friend?"

A lift. For a second.

I wanted to ask whether putting her jacket on him was a second. Whether lacing her fingers through his was a second. Whether that kiss was a second.

How many intimate things had the two of them managed in seconds?

In the end I just rolled over and closed my eyes.

"From now on, do whatever you want. Both of you."

When I woke up the next morning there was nobody beside me.

There was a mug of tea with honey on the nightstand, still warm.

I got up and found Avery busy in the kitchen.

"You're up. Come eat, I made your oatmeal."

I sat down at the table and looked at the peeled egg and the bowl steaming in front of me.

As if none of yesterday had happened.

As if she still loved me.

Avery came over smiling and took a ring out of her pocket.

"Lucas, we've been together too long for a big sappy speech."

She slid that delicate ring onto my finger, steady as anything.

Before yesterday I'd imagined this moment more times than I could count.

Now there was only an ache spreading through my chest, and my eyes went red on the spot.

Avery thought I was overwhelmed. She pulled me in and rubbed my back. "Oh, honey. Don't cry."

The year I turned twenty, my father died and my mother collapsed, and the two of them together crushed me. I didn't sleep for weeks.

Avery was the one who ran all over the city and handled everything my family couldn't.

Late at night she'd hold me exactly like this and pat my back. "Oh, honey. Don't cry. I'm here. I'm going to be here the whole time."

The memories wound around my heart like fine wire and pulled until I couldn't breathe.

Finally I couldn't stop myself. I leaned close to her ear and asked, quietly, "Avery, why did you stop loving me? What does Mason have that I don't? You loved me first..."

"Lucas, what was that? I didn't catch it."

Her phone lit up on the marble counter.

Avery let go of me fast and picked it up, and the glow caught the corner of her mouth turning up.

Less than four inches away.

I saw it clearly.

The person messaging her was saved as Mase.

He was at the top, on the gray of a pinned chat.

I was underneath, on white.

"I need to go deal with something. Eat without me."

Then she took the phone into the study without looking back.

It was a while before I could look away. I dropped my head and turned the ring on my finger.

It was a little tight.

It caught on my knuckle, and it hurt.

I tried a few times. It wouldn't come off.

I looked at my swollen finger, gave up, put my head down on the table, and cried.