Chapter 2

The next day was Saturday.

I woke up naturally and made myself breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, toast, and a cup of hot milk.

I sat alone at the dining table, eating slowly.

Halfway through, the doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole—it was Ethan.

He stood at the door, holding a bag, head down, lost in thought.

I opened the door.

He looked up, saw me, and forced a smile. "Morning."

I didn't speak.

He handed me the bag. "I bought you your favorite bagels. They're still warm."

I glanced at the bag. That shop was on the east side of the city, a forty-minute drive from here.

"You went all the way there this morning?"

"Yeah. I was worried you'd be angry and skip breakfast."

I took the bag and placed it on the shoe cabinet by the door. "Come in."

He followed me inside and sat on the couch.

I went to the kitchen, poured him a glass of water, and placed it on the coffee table.

He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept well.

"Skylar, about yesterday, I'm going to be completely honest with you."

I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"Ashley Miller is indeed my secretary. She's been with me for three months. Her boyfriend is out of state, they see each other once a month. Yesterday she asked for time off, saying she was going to see him, and I approved it."

"Later, she called me again, saying she forgot her pills and was worried something might happen, asking if I could help her buy some and deliver them."

"I didn't think much of it at the time, so I bought them and dropped them off for her. I delivered them to the lobby of her hotel. She came down to get them. I didn't even step inside the hotel."

He looked at me. "Skylar, I swear, there's nothing going on between us. It's just a secretary-boss relationship. If you're upset about it, I'll fire her tomorrow."

I looked at him.

His expression was sincere, his eyes earnest.

If I hadn't seen what I saw yesterday, I might have believed him.

But I remembered.

I remembered how close he was to her when he was helping her read the instructions.

I remembered that different spark in her eyes when she looked up at him.

I remembered how natural his tone was when he said, "Once a day is enough," as if he'd said it many times before.

"Ethan," I began.

"Hmm?"

"Why did she ask you to buy them?"

He paused. "Didn't I tell you? She asked me."

"Why did she ask you?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Does she have other friends? Coworkers? Why did she specifically ask you? You're her boss. Shouldn't she keep her distance from you?"

"Skylar, she's just a young girl. She didn't think much of it."

"Ethan." I cut him off. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

His face changed.

"Over the past six months, how many times have you worked late? How many business trips have you taken? Who did you go with each time?"

"I was really with clients..."

"Clients? Or her?"

He fell silent.

I stood up and walked to him. "Ethan, I'm asking you one last question. Answer me honestly."

He looked at me.

"Do you like her?"

His eyes flickered. Just for a second. I saw it.

He opened his mouth, trying to say something.

I waved my hand. "Alright, you don't have to say it."

I turned and walked toward the bedroom.

He followed, grabbing my arm.

"Skylar, I don't know if you'd call it liking her. But she's different from you. She needs me. She relies on me. She'll flirt with me. She'll say, 'Ethan, you're so great.' We just have this... this kind of relationship. It's not what you think."

I looked at him. "What about me? Don't I need you?"

He said nothing.

"I helped you through the toughest times, supported you with my salary, washed your clothes and cooked your meals, stayed up all night when you were sick. Don't I need you?"

His gaze shifted away. "Skylar, I know you're good to me. But you're too good. So good that I feel... I feel like I owe you."

I laughed.

Owed me.

So, in his eyes, my goodness to him was a burden.

And that woman's reliance on him was what he truly wanted.

"Ethan, you should go."

"Skylar... I..."

"Go."

His face went white.

He stood there, looking at me. His lips moved, but nothing came out.

Finally, he lowered his head and walked toward the door.

At the door, he stopped. "Those bagels, eat them while they're warm."

The door closed.

I stood in the living room, staring at that door for a long time.

Then I walked to the shoe cabinet, picked up the bag, and opened it.

The bagels were still warm. He'd driven out early to buy them.

I took one and bit into it.

It tasted good, from my favorite shop.

But as I ate, tears started to fall.

Not because I missed him.

But because I regretted the three years I'd given.