Chapter 2

Zilker Park, years ago.

Their second anniversary as a couple.

The sun was beginning to dip below the Austin skyline, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

Olivia sat on a checkered blanket, a picnic basket beside her, the sounds of a local band tuning up for the evening concert drifting on the warm breeze.

She checked her phone again.

No messages.

Ethan was late.

Very late.

An hour now.

Worry gnawed at her.

This wasn't like him, not back then.

He was usually so punctual, so considerate.

Her breath caught in her throat when she finally saw him hurrying across the great lawn, looking flustered, his usually neat hair slightly disheveled.

He was clutching a large, awkwardly shaped object wrapped in newspaper.

"Liv, I am so, so sorry," he panted, collapsing beside her.

"My phone died. I was at this place, and I completely lost track of time."

Olivia, her initial worry quickly morphing into relief and a touch of annoyance, just looked at him.

"I was starting to think a rogue longhorn had abducted you," she said, trying for a light tone.

He winced. "Worse. I was attempting art."

He carefully unwrapped the object.

It was a pottery vase.

Large, a bit lopsided, glazed in a surprisingly beautiful shade of blue that reminded her of Texas bluebonnets.

"I made it," he said, a proud, sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been taking this secret ceramics class over on South Lamar. I wanted to surprise you."

Olivia stared at the vase, then at him.

The worry, the annoyance, it all melted away.

The sheer effort, the thought behind it, touched her deeply.

He' d spent hours, secretly, learning something new, just for her.

"Ethan," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He took her hands, his gaze earnest, full of the remorse she now knew so well from that younger version of him.

"Liv, I swear, I'll never be out of touch like that again. You'll always be able to reach me. Your messages are the most important ones I get."

His eyes, the color of warm honey, were so sincere.

"I was imagining all sorts of horrible things," she confessed, her voice small.

He pulled her close, his arm warm and reassuring around her shoulders.

"Never again," he murmured into her hair. "Promise."

She had believed him.

Implicitly.

That promise had been a cornerstone of their relationship, a symbol of his devotion.

The memory, so vivid, so sweet, now felt like a shard of glass in her heart.

The Ethan who made that promise, who looked at her with such untainted love, seemed like a different person entirely from the man in that Instagram photo.