Chapter 4

Ethan stared at me for a few seconds, as if I'd just told him a joke.

"Break up? You want to cancel the wedding?"

His brows pulled tight, impatience coming off him in waves.

"The invitations are out. We've paid deposits on the venue and the photographer. And now you're canceling?"

"What am I supposed to tell my parents? All our guests?"

I looked at him, and the words wouldn't come.

Because for one second there, I'd still been waiting.

Waiting for him to explain. To ask me to stay. Or at the very least to ask why I was leaving.

But what he cared about was the money and the explanations he'd owe other people.

Olivia tugged on his sleeve.

"Ethan, she's still upset. Don't fight with her."

Her eyes went red.

"It's all my fault. I'll step back, okay? I shouldn't be standing between you two."

She leaned into his chest, looking hurt.

Ethan took her hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You hear that? She's already willing to back off. Fine. I won't go to Miami with Olivia either. Satisfied now?"

"All this noise you've been making — it's about getting me to cancel the trip, isn't it?"

Suddenly I wanted to laugh.

The old me would have explained.

I would have told him it wasn't just about the trip.

But now even explaining was too much work.

"We're done."

Ethan's face hardened.

"Natalie. Quit playing."

I knew that every time I'd backed down first, I'd only made him more certain I would never leave.

But this time, I was exhausted.

"I'm serious. I'll cover the cancellation costs."

"Fine."

He was quiet for two seconds, then let out a short, ugly laugh.

"I wasn't the one pushing to get married for three years. You want to cancel? Be my guest."

He grabbed his jacket, put his arm around Olivia, and slammed the door on his way out.

Once the door closed, I picked up my phone and messaged my realtor.

[The house we were going to move into after the wedding — I don't want it. List it as soon as you can.]

For the next several days, Ethan didn't come back.

I knew what he was doing. He was waiting for me to fold.

Waiting for me to reach out like I always did and coax him back.

I didn't want to anymore.

I'd just booked my flight to Europe when Jason Reed — one of Ethan's friends since childhood — messaged me.

[Natalie, Ethan got in a fight protecting Olivia. His head's split open. These guys won't let him leave. You need to get down here, he's in real trouble this time.]

[Olivia's already had a second panic attack. Whatever's going on between you two, can you please just get here?]

I opened Olivia's Instagram.

One story, posted two minutes earlier.

A dim bar booth, music pounding.

Ethan had a Band-Aid on his forehead and was laughing, glass raised. Olivia was tucked against his shoulder, making a heart at the camera.

Jason's voice came from off-camera:

"When Natalie gets here, nobody crack up and blow it."

The whole "fight" was a setup to get me through the door.