Chapter 2

The next morning, sunlight streamed into my guest room.

I hadn't slept.

The door opened abruptly. Marcus.

His face was grim. He didn't speak.

He grabbed my hand, his grip like iron.

He pulled me out of the room, down the stairs, and out to his car.

He drove, fast and silent, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Scottsdale Memorial Hospital.

He dragged me through the sterile corridors to a private room.

Chloe lay in bed, her arm bandaged. She looked pale and fragile.

"Apologize to Chloe," Marcus commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

I stood my ground. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Chloe offered a weak, sweet smile. "It's okay, Marcus. Ellie's just young, probably not used to you having someone else."

Marcus's eyes narrowed at me. "She's only a year younger than you, Chloe. And she's an adult. Apologize, Ellie!"

His conviction of my guilt was a physical blow.

Exhaustion washed over me. He'd already judged me.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, the words tasting like ash.

Marcus still looked dissatisfied.

"I need to use the restroom," I said, needing to escape his gaze.

In the cold, tiled restroom, I splashed water on my face.

*He'll always believe the worst of me now.*

It was a bitter pill.

When I came out, Marcus was waiting.

"Chloe wants some specific artisanal gelato from that place downtown. The one near the civic center. I need to stay with her. You go get it."

His tone was flat, devoid of emotion.

I nodded silently. What else could I do?

As I passed him to leave, he spoke again, his voice a low warning.

"Chloe and I are getting married. Drop whatever fantasies you still have."

I stopped, my back to him.

"Don't worry, I have. In a month, I'll be-"

"I hope you mean that," he cut in, his voice sharp. He walked back into Chloe's room.

I turned, calling after him, the words escaping before I could stop them.

"You love Chloe that much? She can be with you, but I couldn't?"

It was a desperate, foolish question. Referencing our non-blood status, the thing he'd twisted into something ugly.

He reappeared at the doorway, his face hard.

"Yes. Anyone but you, Ellie! Don't ever bring that up again."

His words were like slaps.

I nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't."

The gelato place was across town. The line snaked out the door.

I rushed back, the container cold against my hand.

Chloe took one delicate bite, then pushed the container away.

"It's melted. And the flavor is wrong. Get me that vegan cupcake from the bakery near the university. The red velvet one."

I stared at her. Then at the barely touched gelato.

I said nothing. I went.

This continued all afternoon.

A specific brand of imported water.

A magazine from a boutique newsstand.

Fresh-cut flowers, but only white peonies, and they had to be from a particular florist in Old Town.

Ellie, the errand girl. Running across Scottsdale for things Chloe barely touched, or tasted once and discarded.

Each task was a small humiliation.

Each complied-with demand, a confirmation of Marcus's unwavering support for her.

A few days later, Chloe, "recovered," her arm still lightly bandaged for show, approached me.

"Ellie, darling," she cooed, "I'm having a little get-together with some old friends from high school. At 'The Jade Scorpion' lounge. Just a reconciliation thing. You should come."

Old friends. Her clique. The ones who made my life a misery alongside her.

"I don't think so, Chloe."

"Oh, but you must," she insisted, her eyes glinting. "Marcus thinks it's a wonderful idea. He said, 'Chloe's trying, Ellie. Don't make it difficult.'"

Marcus. Of course.

He wanted me to play nice, to validate Chloe's charade of magnanimity.

I felt trapped. "Fine."

"Wonderful!" Chloe chirped, her smile not reaching her eyes.