Chapter 7

Jamie's POV

When Ethan got home that evening, I was in the middle of packing.

Two large suitcases lay open in the center of the living room. The things that were mine were quietly disappearing.

Half the bookshelf was empty. The flat shoes I always wore by the door were gone. Even the pair of matching toothbrush cups on the bathroom counter had been reduced to one.

Ethan stood in the doorway and stared.

"Already?" He nudged one of the suitcases with his foot. "You don't have to rush. You can stay. I'm not asking you to leave."

"It's better this way." I didn't look up, my hands still moving. "We can't keep living together once the divorce is final. Sophia would mind."

Ethan loosened his tie with a mildly irritated tug. "I've already explained everything to Sophia. Our marriage was never real. And you're my best friend. Divorce doesn't change that. What's wrong with taking the guest room?"

Family.

What a word.

I finally set down what I was holding and looked at him.

The chandelier above us was bright. It lit up every line of his face, every trace of his easy, unbothered certainty.

"Ethan. Men and women can't just be friends."

I said it calmly, like a fact he had always chosen not to hear.

"Especially not when one of them is about to get married. I don't want to be someone people whisper about. And I don't want to make things harder for you."

He blinked. Then almost laughed, like I'd said something absurd.

"Who's going to say anything about you? You're VP of Foster Group."

Then his voice shifted. "And where would you even go? Back to your dad's? You think your stepmother and your sister are going to roll out the welcome mat?"

"I'm not going back there." My lashes flickered. I raised my eyes and looked directly at him. "I'm going to stay with my fiancé."

The room went silent.

The smile on Ethan's face didn't just fade. It froze, then cracked.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I'm going to stay with my fiancé."

I held his gaze and told the lie as steadily as I had ever told the truth.

"He's someone I knew in college. He's been waiting for me. I kept putting things off because of you. Now that you have what you want, it's time I went and lived my own life."

Ethan couldn't move.

"You can't have a fiancé."

I wasn't surprised. Of course he thought that. I had spent every hour orbiting him. My entire world had been his world.

"You're making it up," he said, voice going strange. "Jamie, don't joke about something like this. Who is he? What does he do? Does he treat you right? Is he after your money?"

The questions came fast, almost frantic.

I watched him unravel and felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. Just a quiet, exhausted stillness.

"He treats me well. The same way you treat Sophia." I kept my voice even. "He remembers when my cycle is and makes me warm milk. He knows my stomach is bad and won't let me drink cold water. He turned down an arranged match his family set up for me."

"Ethan. You're not the only person in the world who knows how to love someone."

I let that sit for a moment.

"And Sophia isn't the only person in the world worth loving."

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"Is that so?" He laughed, but it came out unsteady. "That's great, then. Why didn't you ever tell me? You could have said something. I'm your friend. I can't believe you kept this from me."

"Because you never asked." I picked up my bag. "I have to go. Ethan, I hope you and Sophia are happy. I really do."

I didn't look at him again. I pulled my suitcase toward the front door.

The wheels hummed against the marble floor, and the sound filled the empty house.

"Wait!"

The moment my hand touched the cold door handle, Ethan crossed the room in a few strides and slammed his palm flat against the door, trapping himself between me and the exit.

His eyes were wide and unsteady. Like a child about to lose something he had never thought to value until right now.

"Tonight, just have dinner with me tonight. You're leaving. It's the least we can do. Invite them, invite your friend, and I'll check them out for you too."

I knew he was just making excuses.

I looked down at the hand he had pressed against the door. Long fingers, clean knuckles. Beautiful, even now.

"That's not necessary." I gently moved his hand aside. "He doesn't like me staying close with my ex-husband."

Ex-husband.

That word drew the line. It cut off every way back.

I opened the door and walked out.

Outside, the night was deep and dark.

There was no fiancé. No college friend.

The only person I had ever cared about, my whole life, was the one inside that house behind me.

And now, I was letting him go.

"Ethan," I whispered to myself, "this time, I really mean it. I'm done."