Chapter 1

I was about to leave when someone slapped the table and stirred things up again. "Don't go, Ethan. One more round. Let's make it interesting—who's got the most messages in their chat history?"

Dylan Peterson smiled and slid his phone onto the table. "Sure, I've got nothing to hide."

But when the results popped up, the room went quiet for a beat. The person Olivia Clayman texted the most wasn't me. It was Dylan.

Someone let out an awkward laugh. "Wow, Olivia and Dylan sure do talk a lot."

Dylan blinked, his tone light. "What can I say? Ethan's just too responsible—he carries everything on his own. Olivia gets stressed sometimes, she needs someone to vent to, right?"

Then, almost casually, he tapped open one of their conversations. Olivia's message appeared on the screen. [Ethan keeps asking about the wedding timeline again. He's so uptight about it.]

Dylan had replied: [He's just too wound up. Unlike me. Weddings are supposed to be fun.]

Olivia sent back a laughing emoji. [That's why I say talking to you is way easier than talking to him.]

My fingers curled tight.

Another message scrolled up. Olivia had written: [Ethan wore that white shirt again today. Does he actually think white looks good on him?]

Dylan replied with a crying-laughing emoji. [Don't be so hard on him. But yeah, it's not really his color—he's got too muted a vibe.]

Olivia answered: [Yeah, you'd look better in it.]

The room went dead silent.

I stood there, my throat tight, a slow, aching burn spreading from my chest until even my breathing felt thin. So all those little hopes I'd been carrying—the nerves I felt trying on my suit—to Olivia, they were just stories to share and laugh about with Dylan.

Dylan walked over and threw an arm around my shoulder, all buddy-buddy.

"Come on, Ethan, don't be mad. If Olivia were saying this stuff to anyone else, I'd chew her out for you. But I'm your best friend, right?" He tilted his head, all wide-eyed innocence. "I'm just looking out for her—for you. Isn't that a good thing?"

I looked down at the hand resting on my shoulder. On his wrist was a silver watch. A few days ago, Olivia had sent me a photo of it while she was on a business trip, asking if I liked it. I'd stared at that picture for a long time, then answered, beaming, "Looks great."

I thought it was a surprise she was planning to give me. I'd even imagined pretending I didn't know and teasing her about bringing me a gift when she got back. But days passed, and the surprise never came.

Now it was on Dylan's wrist.

I slowly pulled my arm away.

Dylan's eyes went red-rimmed in an instant. "Ethan, are you really not going to trust me anymore?"

Olivia finally frowned. "Ethan. It's just a game. Don't be so sensitive."

The second those words left her mouth, I realized I wasn't even hurt anymore. I was just done.