Chapter 2

The moving company dropped off the last three boxes at our new apartment.

Sienna was already on the couch, flipping through Vogue.

She'd come over to scope out the aisle entrance for the maid of honor.

The TV was on. Midday news.

Sienna raised a hand to her right ear.

Julian was out of the kitchen in two steps. TV off.

I stood in the hallway holding a box of books.

"Master bedroom shelf. Left wall or right?"

He was pouring Sienna a room-temperature water. Back to me.

I asked again, louder.

He didn't turn.

Sienna took the glass and walked toward the master bedroom.

Sat on the edge of the bed. Tilted her head up at the vintage Murano wall sconce.

"This light's a little dim."

Quieter than my voice had been. By half.

Julian was in the room in seconds. Up on a stool. Sconce off the wall in three motions.

That sconce was a 1960s Venini I'd hunted down on 1stDibs. Seven days of watchlist alerts.

I walked in.

"Why are you taking it down?"

Julian read Sienna's lips. Translated.

"The light's harsh on her eyes. We need something brighter."

Sienna, right on cue. "It's fine, honestly. Don't switch it because of me."

Julian handed the sconce to me.

"No big deal, babe. Sienna's eyes are sensitive. Grab another one. You're on 1stDibs every week anyway."

I didn't answer.

Turned around. Dropped the sconce into the box by the door.

Bergdorf Goodman delivered the bridal party garments in the afternoon.

Sienna tried on the short bridesmaid dress. Stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her eyes dropped to her right calf.

A three-inch scar on the outside of her leg. Just visible below the hem.

She tapped the scar with her fingertip. Didn't say anything.

Julian's eyes followed her fingertip down.

His brow furrowed.

Sienna reached for the hanger holding my reception gown.

Oscar de la Renta. Long train. Two months of hand-embroidery. Custom fit.

She held it up against her body.

"This length would cover it."

Julian looked at me. Voice as casual as ordering takeout.

"Sienna's got that scar on her leg. Short dress isn't going to work for her. Nora, wear the backup short one. Let her have this one."

He paused. Pulled a check out of his wallet. Three thousand.

"For a replacement. Get yourself something new."

The frostbite scars on my calves were three times the size of Sienna's little line.

Cambridge winter. Three jobs. Saving up for his Phonak Lyric implant. My knees down were raw for two months straight.

He'd cried at Mount Auburn Hospital, holding my leg, swearing he'd buy me the longest dress in New York on our wedding day.

I took the check.

The associate led Sienna to the fitting room.

Julian watched until the curtain dropped. Then turned to me. Clapped my shoulder.

"You're the best, Nora. Nobody handles things like you do."

I smiled back.

Opened my phone. Pulled up the Amtrak reservations.

Six Acela first-class tickets. Vermont. Connecticut. Boston.

Cancel. Cancel. Cancel.

The refund notifications chimed.

Julian didn't hear.

Sienna stepped out of the fitting room in my reception gown.

Train dragging behind her. Embroidery catching the light.

Julian looked at her. Eyes lit up.

"Beautiful."

He'd never once said that word to me.

I saved the cancellation screenshots to my camera roll.

Labeled the folder: T-minus 2 days.