Chapter 1

Ethan Hayes was the worst germaphobe I had ever met.

In the four years we dated, he made me scrub my hands with sanitizer three times before he would hold them. At his house, I had to wear disposable shoe covers, eat off paper plates, and sleep on a set of hypoallergenic linens he unsealed in front of me.

Then a car hit me and broke my leg. I lay on the side of the road, unable to stand, and reached for him.

There was blood on my fingertips.

Ethan stepped back with ice in his eyes. Only then did he call 911.

After surgery, he hired the best home health aide he could find, retained an elite nutritionist, and added me as an authorized user to his Centurion Card so every expense of my recovery would be covered.

"Natalie, you know how I am. Please don't blame me for not touching you."

I looked into his apologetic eyes and convinced myself to understand.

When I was finally discharged, he threw a welcome-home dinner for me at his place. I balanced on my crutches and accepted the pair of blue disposable shoe covers he held out.

Then his childhood best friend came running out of the kitchen wearing a pair of Ethan's pajamas.

Her hands were streaked with dirt. She pinched a strawberry between her fingers and pushed it between Ethan's lips.

"Nothing beats strawberries from your own garden. Lucky you."

Ethan ate it straight from her hand.

She glanced at the blue covers over my shoes. "You always go completely overboard when you have company."

That was when I noticed her slippers. Soft suede house shoes, identical to Ethan's.

"Why doesn't she have to wear these?" I asked.

"Chloe grew up running wild around here," Ethan said. "Don't compare yourself to her."

"Did you just call me wild?" Chloe pounced on him. "You're going to pay for that."

She clung to him as they wrestled and laughed. I looked down at the blue covers over my shoes, then at the bottle of hand sanitizer in the foyer with my name printed on the label.

Pain pricked through my heart.

His germophobia had rules for me and no one else.

I was done bending myself around them.

I put my own shoes back on and turned toward the door.

"Your guest is leaving," Chloe called. "Go walk her out."

Ethan caught up to me and grabbed my arm. "Chloe was joking. Ignore her."

"She wasn't wrong." My voice cracked despite my best effort. "She wears your clothes. She has her own slippers here. She can touch you without disinfecting first. But me? I'm the guest who has to use disposable everything."

"That's not what this is."

I tore my arm from his hand. Ethan stopped speaking.

He stared at the spot on his fingers that had touched me, then sprayed them with sanitizer.

"You really find me that disgusting?"

I caught the flash of irritation he failed to hide. "How long are you going to keep making a scene?"

His friends had heard us arguing. They appeared behind him, calling out to me.

"Natalie, don't be mad at Ethan. Come back in and eat."

They carried real dishes. Every one of them wore soft house slippers.

Even his friends were allowed to feel at home in his house. His so-called condition applied only to me.

I turned away, braced myself on my crutches, and fought to hold back my tears.

Behind me, Chloe spoke with lazy contempt. "The old hard-to-get routine again. You're not falling for it, are you?"

The hand Ethan had extended toward me dropped to his side.

"Forget it," he said. "If she wants to throw a tantrum, she doesn't have to come back."

Ethan lived in one of the most exclusive gated communities in Los Angeles. On a broken leg, the walk from his house to the rideshare pickup area took me an hour.

Sweat covered my forehead. My arms shook from supporting my weight.

Then a video arrived from Ethan's account.

Chloe was stretched across the couch where Ethan always made me sit on a protective cover. Her head rested naturally in the crook of his arm.

"Ow," she whined. "I pricked my finger."

Ethan seized her hand in alarm and put her finger in his mouth.

"It's okay. I won't let it hurt."

His friends laughed around them.

"You two are sickeningly sweet. You might as well get together."

"Knock it off," Ethan said, but his rebuke was soft.

Chloe hugged his arm, her eyes shining. "Answer one question. If you could choose all over again, who would you pick?"

His friends hooted and demanded an answer. Ethan smiled helplessly.

"If you hadn't left for grad school in London, why would I have settled for some random girl?"

A breeze brushed my face. It felt like a slap.

A security guard walking past stopped when he saw me. "Miss, do you need help?"

I shoved my phone into my pocket and tried to get my crutches under me, but he had already brought over a wheelchair.

I protested. He insisted, helping me into it with patient care.

"Your ride is at the main gate, right? I'll take you. This place is enormous. Next time, have someone from your family come with you."

I lowered my eyes.

"Thank you," I said. "There won't be a next time."