Chapter 1

During our three years together, Carter took "going Dutch" to a pathological level.

Even when we ordered pizza, he would look at the receipt and deduct the price of the mushrooms I didn't eat from the total.

"Chloe, I’m a professional," he would say. "Feelings are feelings, but keeping money crystal clear is the only way a relationship lasts."

I used to think he was just naturally rigid. That was until Clara, the girl he grew up with and always called his "little sister," returned from abroad.

On that pouring, stormy night, I was running a 103-degree fever, trying to patch up a leaking window in our apartment by myself.

Carter, on the other hand, spent $85,000 on a down payment for a brand-new Porsche just because Clara said she "didn't want to take an Uber." He then drove 120 miles through the storm just to grab late-night tacos with her.

He didn't crawl back until noon the next day, looking exhausted. He completely ignored me, even though I had just walked in the door from the ER.

Without a word, he tossed the coffee mug I had used for three years straight into the trash can.

"Clara is staying with us for a few days," he said casually. "She’s a germaphobe, and your old mug looks like an eyesore."

"She’s never had a hard day in her life. As the older one here, just let her have her way. I’ll add another $100 to our shared grocery budget this month."

The sound of the ceramic shattering in the trash was deafening.

For years, I thought if I just played the role of the perfect, low-maintenance girlfriend, I could finally melt his icy heart.

It turned out his heart wasn't made of ice.

It was just that his fire was never meant to burn for me.