Chapter 3

Logan stared at the ring.

For one second, something like relief flashed in his eyes.

It was small.

Ugly.

Fast.

But I saw it.

Then he covered it with a sigh.

"Ava, don't say things you can't take back."

"I already did."

"If you don't want the party in January, we can delay it." His tone turned patient, like he was negotiating a contract with a difficult client. "I've been under pressure. The company is preparing for funding. You know how busy I am."

I looked at his collar.

The pink gloss was still there.

"You were busy in Sienna's car too?"

His face darkened.

"That's enough."

No.

It had been enough a long time ago.

Five years together.

Two years long-distance.

Hundreds of flights, drives, calls I stayed awake for because his schedule mattered more than mine.

The night I was supposed to meet his parents, I had cried from nerves in a hotel bathroom and then smiled through dinner because his mother called me "our future daughter-in-law."

When Logan asked to postpone the Christmas engagement announcement, I had swallowed my disappointment and said work came first.

Now I knew whose feelings came first.

Not mine.

"All this because of a few stupid posts?" he asked.

"Not the posts."

My voice was quiet.

"It's the fact that every post is believable."

Before he could answer, his phone rang.

Not his normal ringtone.

A girl's voice filled the bathroom.

Mr. Pierce, pick up. Your Christmas princess is calling. Ignore me and I'll cry.

The sound bounced off the tile.

Logan snatched the phone and declined the call.

His face tightened.

"It was a joke."

The phone rang again.

Same voice.

Same Christmas princess.

This time, he walked into the hallway and answered.

He lowered his voice, but not enough.

"What happened? The heat went out? Did maintenance come? Don't cry. I'll be there."

He came back into the bathroom with that look on his face.

The one I already knew.

He was going.

"There's an issue at the office."

I laughed once.

On Christmas Eve, he couldn't even respect me enough to invent a decent lie.

"At the office?"

He avoided my eyes.

"I don't know when I'll be back. You should sleep here tonight."

Sleep here.

In the apartment where I had cooked his Christmas dinner while his assistant waited for him downstairs.

The apartment that smelled like vanilla perfume and cold gravy.

"No," I said.

I walked out of the bathroom and grabbed my suitcase.

Logan followed me.

"Ava, don't do this."

"Don't do what? Leave a man who is leaving me?"

His phone buzzed again.

Sienna.

Of course.

He looked at it.

That was answer enough.

I took my coat from the chair.

When I reached the door, he said, "I'll make it up to you tomorrow."

I turned back.

He looked handsome in the warm Christmas light. Tired. Expensive. Ruined in small ways only I knew how to read.

"Tomorrow," I said, "I'll be gone."

Then I left.

I checked into a hotel ten blocks away.

Outside the window, the city glittered with Christmas lights. Couples crossed the street hand in hand. Someone in the hotel lobby laughed under a hanging wreath.

I sat on the bed in my coat and opened Sienna's profile again.

I hated myself for it.

But I looked anyway.

Fifteen minutes earlier, she had posted a carousel.

Christmas with the person I actually want.

Nine photos.

Logan's hand on a steering wheel.

His coat thrown over the back of her chair.

Two mugs beside a half-built gingerbread house.

Her legs tucked under the pink blanket in his passenger seat.

A close-up of the glitter sign on his dashboard:

Sienna's Seat.

The last photo was a mirror selfie.

Her face was tilted up.

His face was half-hidden behind hers.

His hand rested low on her waist.

The caption read:

His fiancée can have the ring. I get Christmas Eve.

I stared until my vision blurred.

Then I booked the earliest flight home.

At 2:13 a.m., Logan called.

"I'm staying late," he said. "Sienna's heat is out, and she's scared. Go to bed. I'll explain tomorrow."

In the background, she laughed softly.

Not scared.

Satisfied.

I ended the call before he finished speaking.

Then I typed one message.

Logan, we're over.

This time, I did not wait for him to reply.