Chapter 2

I've always been a loner. So after college, I moved to this city by myself and started from nothing.

The first time I rented an apartment, I got scammed out of all my savings. I was squatting on the sidewalk with my suitcase, crying, when Charlotte handed me a tissue.

"I have an extra bedroom. I'll rent it to you cheap. Want it?"

She smiled with her eyes all crinkled, like an angel.

Later I found out she didn't need a roommate. She just felt bad for me.

We cooked together, binge-watched shows together, complained about work and our bosses together. She always said: "Jenna, you're way too quiet. You need to smile more."

She's the one who introduced me to Ethan.

"He's my childhood friend. Firefighter. Super reliable. You're alone here, so if you ever need anything, call him." She winked. "But don't get any ideas. He's mine."

I didn't have any ideas back then. But Ethan chased me hard.

Breakfast every day. Waiting for me after work. If I worked late, he'd sit in his car downstairs until midnight.

He said, "Charlotte's like a sister to me. You're the one I want. It's different."

I believed him.

The day I said yes to being with him, Charlotte stayed quiet for a long time. Then she hugged me and cried.

"You have to be happy. Otherwise I'll never forgive myself."

I thought that was a blessing.

Now I know. It was a warning.

I down the rest of my champagne. The cheap alcohol burns my throat, makes me cough so hard my eyes water.

"Enough, Jenna! If you have a problem, take it out on me. Don't do this here."

Ethan's voice. Angry. Familiar.

He pushes past the people blocking him and walks over, his eyebrows twisted tight.

"Five years and you're still like this. You have to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

He thinks I came to ruin his party. The disgust in his eyes is almost too much.

I don't know how to explain that I literally walked into the wrong room. I point at my work suit.

"I'm here for my company's year-end dinner. Wrong room."

But Ethan doesn't believe me. He grabs my wrist. Hard. It hurts.

"Stop pretending. I'm sorry about what happened. After the party, I'll drive you home."

Charlotte's face goes pale. She stands up with the baby. "Ethan..."

He turns to her, softer. "Charlotte, I just don't want her causing a scene in front of the baby. Don't worry."

But his grip on my hand doesn't loosen.

I pull free. Step back. Force a smile.

"Not appropriate. Your wife and kid are watching."

He acts like he didn't hear. Reaches for me again.

It's insane. Five years apart, and he's changed so much.

He used to be so careful about boundaries.

When we were dating, a female coworker kept finding excuses to be around him. One time it was raining. She asked for a ride. He called her an Uber instead and drove me home the long way. Next day, he announced at work: "I have a girlfriend. Don't hit me up for personal stuff. Work only." He pissed off his boss. Didn't care.

He shut down every possibility of anything shady.

Except Charlotte.

Eight out of ten of our dates got interrupted by her calls. Lost keys. Broken pipe. Feeling lonely and wanting to drink.

Even on our anniversary. Candles lit at the restaurant. Charlotte called.

"Charlotte's stomach hurts really bad. I'm going to check on her. Jenna, eat without me. I already paid."

When I complained, he'd ruffle my hair and smile. "Why are you jealous? She's like my little sister. She's alone here. Just be cool."

But I'm not a cool person.

I'm so uncool that seeing Charlotte walk around in his shirt — my shirt — would keep me up all night.

"Ethan! That's my pajama shirt!"

"Don't overthink it. She took a shower and didn't have clothes. She's been my friend since we were kids."

To make me feel secure, he bought a ring. Got down on one knee.

"Jenna, marry me. I'm only going to love you my whole life."

I believed him.

So when Charlotte sent me a photo late at night — her in my pajamas, leaning on Ethan's shoulder, both of them watching a movie on the couch — I told myself it was just the angle. They're like siblings.

Then I'd lie awake all night. Get up and scroll through their chat history.

Charlotte always started the conversations. Ethan replied short, but he never said no.

Once I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed his phone to send her a message about boundaries. He snatched it out of my hand so fast.

That was the first time he really yelled at me.

"Jenna! You're checking my phone? What do you think I am? Charlotte's my family. Don't be so disgusting!"

He slammed the door.

The phone screen was still on. Open to his chat with Charlotte.

Her last message: "Ethan, I miss you."

He didn't reply.

But thirty minutes later, Charlotte posted a photo on Instagram. Two hands, fingers laced together. A river view at night.

The caption: Some things don't need words.

I stared at that photo. Recognized the watch on Ethan's wrist. I gave him that for his birthday.