Chapter 3

The get-together was at a private club Adrian frequented.

Before we entered the private room, he took my hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of it.

"Don't drink tonight. Your stomach can't handle it."

He remembered my stomach but forgot the thing that mattered more.

The room was full of familiar faces.

Someone teased, "Finally tying the knot, huh?"

Adrian didn't banter back the way he usually would. Instead, he pulled out my chair and poured me a glass of warm water himself.

When the fish course arrived, he picked out every bone with care and placed the tenderest piece on my plate.

"I'm having the kitchen torn out tomorrow."

He said it so quietly only I could hear.

"New dress too. Stop throwing things away, okay?"

My fingertip touched the side of the glass. Warmth seeped in, degree by degree.

He hadn't always been bad to me over the years.

The year my father died, I couldn't sleep for months.

Adrian canceled every engagement and walked with me along Lake Michigan every night.

He never pushed me to pull myself together. He'd just turn around when I got too tired, crouch down, and carry me home on his back.

Back then, I believed the person who'd stayed through my worst days would stay for the rest of them.

A server brought out dessert, cutting through the memory.

Lily reached for it first and slid one of the bowls in front of me.

"Claire, this place just started making a pistachio cream brûlée. Adrian ordered it especially for you."

My hand stopped midair.

Adrian was still cutting his steak. He glanced up at the mention and smiled.

"Lily stood in line for ages this afternoon to get it. Try some."

Others in the room had already picked up their spoons. No one noticed anything wrong.

I'm severely allergic to tree nuts.

The first episode happened in our second year together.

Adrian carried me—struggling to breathe—into Northwestern Memorial Hospital's ER, his entire arm shaking.

After that, he checked every ingredient list. He even asked restaurants whether their cutting boards were shared.

And tonight, he told me to try some.

"You don't remember?"

Adrian's brow furrowed. His gaze dropped to the dessert.

Lily's hand tightened around her spoon.

"Claire, you don't like it? But Adrian said you have the biggest sweet tooth."

Adrian seemed to finally register what was happening and reached to take the bowl away.

"Don't eat it. I'll get a different one."

I stood up. My elbow caught the porcelain bowl.

Dessert splattered across the table's edge. The bowl hit the floor and shattered. The room went dead silent.

"Claire."

Adrian rose to his feet.

"It didn't get on you, did it?"

His hand reached for me. I grabbed my coat and sidestepped him, heading straight for the exit.

At the end of the corridor, he caught up and blocked my path.

"Fine, leave if you want. But take your medication first."

He found the emergency supply in my handbag and held it out.

See—he still knew exactly where the medication was.

"You remember the medication but not why I need it."

Adrian's hand froze in midair.

"I wasn't paying attention tonight. That's on me."

"Who chose the menu?"

"Lily picked it."

"Did you check it?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his tone dropped a register.

"I've given you plenty of face tonight. Everyone in there is someone we know. You smashed the bowl, walked out without a word—how do you think that makes Lily look?"

I took the EpiPen from him and gripped it in my palm.

"And how does it make me look?"

"No one's going to misunderstand you."

"Because I'm your future wife, so I should be the bigger person—is that it?"

"You're being impossible."

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing his impatience.

"I agreed to redo the kitchen. I agreed to a new dress. I'm addressing everything you asked for. Tonight was an accident—don't drag Lily into every single thing."

"I'm tired."

I didn't argue further.

"Go back in and keep her company. I'm going home."

Adrian's expression softened. He smoothed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Text me when you get there. I'll pick you up in the morning—we'll look at new countertops."

I nodded, and he turned back to the private room.

Through the slowly closing door, I caught a glimpse of Lily sitting in the chair beside his, red-eyed and gazing up at him.

Adrian bent over, plucked a tissue from the box, and placed it in her hand.

I walked out of the club and didn't go back to the apartment we shared.

The taxi stopped in front of my old studio—vacant for two years.

Dust coated the lock, but inside, everything was exactly as I'd left it when I lived alone.

I pulled out a suitcase and packed only my documents, my laptop, and a few changes of clothes.

The clothes, bags, and jewelry Adrian had given me over the years—I didn't smash them. I didn't throw them away.

I left them where they were, inventoried every item, and sent the list to my lawyer for safekeeping.

At one in the morning, Adrian texted:

Lily's calmed down. I'll pick you up at eight. Don't sleep in.

I tapped the message field.

My fingers hovered for a long time. In the end, I only backed out of the chat and canceled the morning appointment with the renovation company.