Chapter 1

At the farewell party for my best friend, Beatrice, everyone started egging her on to make a wish list.

Beatrice blushed a little and smiled at us.

"There's something I've never told Elisa."

The private room went silent.

"Actually, I liked Owen before you two officially started dating."

Everyone froze for a second.

Then they laughed and cheered, teasing her to go on.

Beatrice lowered her eyes. Her voice was soft.

"I'm moving to Seattle next week. I'm not going to ask him to kiss me, and I'm definitely not asking him to sleep with me."

"I just want Owen to do seven small things with me—just a proper goodbye to a crush I’ve had for years. Would that be okay?"

Every eye at the table turned to me.

I sat there, my fingertips going cold.

On one side was my best friend of twelve years.

On the other was the man I'd loved for eight years, the man I was about to marry.

The three of us had grown up together.

We rode bikes down the same street in the summer and shoveled our driveways together in the winter.

The year my parents were going through their divorce, Beatrice came over almost every day to keep me company.

Even when Owen was at his busiest in med school, he still went two blocks out of his way to pick me up from school.

To everyone else, the three of us had always seemed unbreakable.

So in that moment, I trusted them.

I nodded.

I thought they were just a few harmless little things.

On day one, she wanted him to go with her in the middle of the night to see the lights along the Hudson.

On day two, they changed their profile pictures to the same photo of the two of them.

...

On day six, she wore the Valentine's bracelet Owen had originally bought for me.

Over and over, I told myself it was fine.

It was just her last bit of selfishness before she left.

I only had to get through seven days.

And day seven happened to fall on Valentine's Day.

Her final request was for Owen to spend her last day in New York as her "boyfriend."

For the first time, I gave him a flat no.

"If you go today, we're done."

Owen stood in the entryway, staring at me.

"It's only one last day," he said. "I'll spend every Valentine's Day after this with you."

Then he turned around and left anyway.

The next morning, I saw Beatrice's new Instagram post.

The photo showed a cup of coffee and morning light outside a hospital window.

The caption was just two words.

"Transfer canceled."

At ten that morning, Owen came home.

I put my apartment key in his hand.

"She's staying."

"I'm leaving."

His eyes flicked to the suitcases in the living room.

Then, to my disbelief, he laughed.

"Because Beatrice is staying?"

"Something changed with her transfer approval at the last minute. She didn't lie to you on purpose."

I folded the last two pieces of clothing and put them into my suitcase.

"I already found a short-term rental near the school. I can move in Sunday."

Owen put his hand on the lid of my suitcase.

"Elisa, come on. Enough."

He'd worked an overnight shift, and the exhaustion showed between his brows, but somehow he still sounded as if he were the one in the right.

"The seven days are over. Valentine's Day is over. I didn't touch her, and I didn't spend the night at her place."

"I was downstairs by eleven forty. You're the one who didn't pick up her phone."

My phone was sitting on the coffee table.

Seventeen missed calls.

Every single one after 11:40 p.m.

But he'd left at four in the afternoon.

He'd taken Beatrice to the restaurant I had reserved.

He'd walked with her along the riverside path we visited every year.

He hadn't come home until nearly midnight.

And now he was treating the fact that he hadn't physically cheated as proof he'd done nothing wrong.

I closed my suitcase.

"Did you even ask her whether she decided to stay at the last minute, or whether she never planned to leave in the first place?"

Owen's face darkened.

"It's bad enough that you're suspicious of me. Now you're suspicious of Beatrice too?"

"She's practically been family to you since you were twelve. When your dad was in the hospital, her mom drove him to the ER. When you were applying for residency and basically living at the hospital, she helped you get your application together."

I remembered all of it better than he did.

That was exactly why I'd said yes at the farewell party.

Owen and Beatrice.

One was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

The other was my best friend.

I used to think I was lucky.

Then Owen's phone rang.

Beatrice's name lit up the screen.

He glanced at me and didn't pick up.

A second call came in.

Then a third.

"She's returning to work in the pediatric unit today. People are going to talk."

Then he left anyway.

After the door shut, Beatrice sent me a voice message.

"Elisa, you're not seriously going to leave Owen over some stupid goodbye list, are you?"

I didn't answer.

A moment later, she sent me a picture.

Owen was at the nurses' station talking to two people.

Underneath, Beatrice wrote:

"He just came to help me clear things up. I didn't ask him to stay. Don't read into it."

Owen hadn't even told me which floor of the hospital he was going to.

Yet she'd rushed to report it to me before he could.

The picture and the explanation made her look thoughtful, considerate, innocent.

But I only remembered one thing.

Owen was with her. Again.