In the end, I didn’t say anything. Just wondered, why couldn’t she be like me? Like Layla? Why couldn’t she want fun and casual and un-fucking-complicated?

“Goodbye, Chase.” She squeezed my hand one last time. She forgot to give me back the engagement ring. I didn’t ask her for it, because (a) I didn’t care about the damn ring, and (b) I knew she’d have to contact me again in order to return it. For all her faults, Madison was the furthest thing from a gold digger I’d ever met.

I leaned down and kissed her temple, letting my lips hover there. She took a step back and went inside.

I watched her disappearing behind her building door.

She kept glancing back.

I kept thinking she’d make a U-turn, like in the stupid movies she’d always tried to convince me to watch. Run back out, jump into my arms. We’d kiss. It would rain (even though it was summer). I’d hoist her up in the air, and she’d wrap her legs around my waist, and we’d go upstairs and make love, fade-to-black-style.

But after a few seconds of staring at me through the glass window of her entrance door, she shook her head and took the second flight of stairs.

I turned around and stumbled back home by foot, pressing my hand against my face, trying to breathe her in from the time she’d rubbed my fingers against her collarbone in the elevator.

Her scent was gone.

CHAPTER TEN

MADDIE

September 1, 2002

Dear Maddie,

Fun fact: The dandelion flower opens up in the morning to greet the sun and closes in the evening to go to bed. It is the only flower to “grow old.” When you were younger, I took you to the park every day. Do you remember, Maddie? We used to look at dandelions and try to determine which ones would turn white and frail first. When they finally did, we’d pick them and blow them. They’d dance in the wind like snowflakes, and you’d chase them and laugh.

I told you it was okay to pick up dandelions and blow on them, because we spread their seeds. Each dandelion that died was responsible for the birth of a dozen like it!

There is a twisted, jagged beauty to the ending of life. It is a bittersweet reminder that it happened.

Seize the moment.

Every moment.

Until we meet again.

Love,

Mom. x

Three Chase-free days had passed.

Three days without Post-it Notes.

Three days where Chase got in, took Daisy, got out, and was out of my hair, just like I’d begged him to be since he’d walked back into my life.

Three days in which Ethan and I were too busy—me with finishing a few sketches that were due by the end of the week, him with his post (half!) marathon rituals. Our official consummation date was postponed, since Ethan needed to sit in a bath full of ice and write a five-thousand-word post in his blog about the medical merits of ice baths (which he sent to me; I skimmed). I tried convincing myself that it was a good thing we didn’t try to have sex the day his muscles were aching and I was still mulling over every single minute from that dinner night with Chase. I was especially bothered by Hug-Gate. I tried to assure myself that nobody thought anything of two adults hugging outside a pediatric clinic. It sounded completely platonic, but the fact that Chase had looked like he was about to maim someone with a butter knife at the table, paired with Julian’s insanely sharp instincts, meant that I was still worried we were uncovered. If that could cause Ronan to faint, God only knew what could happen if he found out the truth.

Ethan and I made plans to hang out on Tuesday. Ethan suggested he bring Chinese food and I bring the “right mood.” I tried to muster every ounce of excitement for our evening plans while I was at work.

I found a romantic-songs playlist on iTunes, shoved my AirPods on, and bobbed my head to some Peter Gabriel and Snow Patrol. I planned on putting on soft music on my old record player, maybe scattering some flowers around the house.

I was working on my drawing board, outlining a simple dress for our Mother of the Bride fall collection (I hated working on this collection; it was a painful reminder I didn’t have a mother), when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around, fully prepared to see a DoorDash delivery guy holding a paper bag with my lunch. Or maybe Nina scowling at me and telling me to keep the music down on my AirPods. But I nearly fell off my stool when I saw Katie Black standing in front of me, waving at me with an apologetic smile.

“Hi!” I said too loudly, wobbling up to my feet. Flustered didn’t begin to cover what I was feeling. Technically, I could see why she’d be here. She thought we were soon to be sisters-in-law. In practice, I knew my colleagues were going to ask a lot of questions if they saw us together. Namely, Nina, who was already peeking over her shoulder, trying to figure out what Katie freaking Black was doing talking to me.

I’d managed to keep my six-month relationship with Chase a complete secret while we were dating. Knew people would have a field day if they knew I was sleeping with the billionaire from the top floor. The one who owned the department store that kept our business alive. The irony of getting caught dating a man I hadn’t really dated six months after we’d broken up wasn’t lost on me.

“Hi. Hello. Hola.” Katie waved again, her blush deepening. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I thought . . . well, I normally take my lunch at the office, but one of my meetings got canceled, and I thought it’d be a good idea if you and I maybe spent some time together. You know, just so . . .” She trailed off, looking at the ceiling and chuckling to herself, mortified.

“Yes!” I said too brightly, eager to get her out of the studio, fast. I patted my chair for my jacket before remembering it was a thousand degrees outside and I hadn’t brought one with me this morning. I dragged her to the elevators. Physically pushed her in their direction. “What a great idea. I’m starving. Where do you want to eat?”

“La Table?” She stared at me with a mixture of surprise and worry, hoisting her Balmain bag over her shoulder. La Table was a $300-per-plate, fixed-price French restaurant under our building. It was reservations only (unless your last name was Black or Murdoch), which meant that I was in no risk of bumping into any of my colleagues. It also meant I was going to shell out enough money to pay a whole week’s rent because of Chase’s stupid lie, but as with Daisy’s vet, I was fully prepared to send him the bill for this.

The elevator slid open, and Sven appeared. He looked at me in question.

“Hi. No questions, please. Bye.” I all but shoved Katie inside while he stepped outside. Katie opened her mouth to ask me what was going on, but I beat her to it.

“So how was the marathon?” I asked cheerfully.

“Half marathon,” she corrected (she and Ethan would get along; I inwardly smiled). “And it was really good, actually. I had fun, and we raised a lot of money for charity. I’m sure Chase told you he donated three hundred thousand dollars to sponsor me.”

I almost choked on my saliva. He’d done that? I had no idea. I always thought Chase would be the kind of guy to support the cause of burning down rain forests and wearing fur. He seemed so infuriatingly soulless. Even when we’d been together, there was a shell of something dark, made out of steel and misanthropy, I couldn’t quite get past. I nodded dutifully, still playing my role as a fiancée.