Chapter 1

The Portuguese egg tarts I'd stood in line forty minutes to buy. I only went to wash my hands, and by the time I came back all four custard centers were gone.

All that was left was a box of crumbling pastry shells.

Garry Dickerson handed Doreen Simmons a napkin and explained it like it was nothing.

"Doreen ate the centers. I saved the shells for you."

I looked at the wreckage.

"Garry, I stood in that line for forty minutes."

He frowned at me.

"They're just egg tarts. Do you really have to make a thing of it?"

Something closed up in my throat and I couldn't speak.

These three years, it felt like it was always like this.

As long as Doreen was there, the best of everything always went to her first.

Breakfast sandwiches, he'd peel out the filling for Doreen and leave me the dry bread.

Buy-one-get-one lattes, the free one went to Doreen too, and if I wanted one I paid for it myself.

Every time I got upset, Garry would hold me and smooth it over.

"Doreen's your best friend. She's practically family to you."

"If I'm nice to her, it's so that when the two of us fight down the road, she'll put in a good word for me. What's wrong with that?"

Back then, I actually thought he had a point.

Doreen saw I'd gone quiet and set down her spoon.

"Tamara Coleman, don't be upset. How about I go buy you a few more right now?"

Garry grabbed her wrist at once, his tone put out.

"Buy what? She's always like this. Everything has to be measured out down to the last crumb."

Watching the two of them play off each other, I suddenly felt completely done.

I pushed my chair back and stood up and headed for the door.

Since I was never going to be the one who got favored.

Then I didn't want this love that was someone else's leftovers either.

...

I'd barely stepped out of the restaurant when Garry came after me.

"Tamara, that's enough."

"Doreen just said the centers looked good, so I gave them to her. That's all."

Doreen followed behind, holding my jacket, looking a little lost.

"I didn't know you wanted them. If it really bothers you, I just won't eat them next time."

When I didn't respond, Garry's frown deepened.

"She's already said all that. What more do you want?"

My steps slowed.

I was the one who'd bought the egg tarts.

And somehow, in the end, it looked like I was the one forcing some terrible injustice on Doreen.

It's not that I wasn't willing to give way to her.

In all the years we'd known each other, I'd never once kept score with her.

I just couldn't understand it.

I was Garry's girlfriend.

So why, every time there were two choices, was I always the one left over?

We'd walked a little way when Garry suddenly called out.

"Wait a second."

I stopped too.

He stared at Doreen's foot for a couple of seconds and frowned.

"Your shoe's rubbing you raw. Why didn't you say something?"

Doreen looked down and only then noticed her heel had gone red.

"It's fine. It'll be okay in a bit."

Garry turned and went to the convenience store next door for a box of bandages.

When he came back, he crouched right down in front of Doreen.

"I told you not to wear new shoes for so long. Now they've torn you up and it'll hurt for days."

Doreen braced a hand on his shoulder and lifted her foot obediently.

"Okay, okay, Mr. Fusspot."

They were still talking. I left first.

It wasn't until the stairs down into the subway that my own heel gave a sharp sting.

I looked down and realized it had rubbed raw at some point too.

I dug around in my bag for ages and couldn't find a single bandage.

In the end I could only pull out a tissue and tuck it against my heel.

Two steps later the tissue slipped out again.

I bent down and stuffed it back in.

Suddenly I felt tired.

When I woke the next day, Garry had sent me several messages.

"Don't work late tonight. I booked that restaurant you've been wanting to try."

Only then did I remember. Today was our third anniversary.

The phone buzzed again.

"Yesterday was my fault."

"I'll wait downstairs at your office tonight. Let's have a real talk."

My finger hovered over the delete button for a moment.

In the end, I still replied, "Okay."

When I got off work, Garry was already waiting downstairs.

I'd just walked up when the passenger window rolled down.

Doreen smiled and waved at me.

"Tamara."

My steps froze.

"She's coming too?"

Garry gave a casual little grunt, his expression easy.

"She was in a bad mood today, so I brought her along."

When I didn't move, he frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just one more person at dinner."

"Weren't you always saying three's more fun?"

For the rest of the meal, Garry and Doreen talked and laughed.

From embarrassing stories back in college to a movie they'd watched together a few days ago.

I sat across from them and couldn't get a single word in.

The phone buzzed. It was a message from my mom.

"Tamara, that thing I mentioned before, about coming home to build your career here. Have you decided?"

I glanced at the two of them across the table and lowered my head to reply.

"Mom, I'm coming home."