Chapter 2

The next morning, the city' s biggest music blog, "ATX Soundwaves," had a new post.

The headline screamed: "Ethan Reed of The Wandering Echoes: New Muse or Just Mentoring?"

Below it, a series of photos.

Ethan and Chloe at Book Nook Brews yesterday.

Ethan' s arm around Chloe' s shoulder as they walked down South Congress.

Chloe looking up at him, her eyes wide.

The comments section was already a warzone of fan theories and outrage.

My phone buzzed with a call from Ethan.

I let it ring, then go to voicemail.

He called again immediately.

I answered.

"Sarah, thank God. Did you see that stupid blog?" His voice was urgent, a little too loud.

"I saw it," I said, my voice flat.

"It's nothing, okay? Chloe is just... she' s young, she looks up to me. We were just grabbing coffee, talking about the band."

"You told me you had rehearsal," I said.

A pause. "Yeah, well, it got moved. Look, this is a mess, but I have a plan."

His "plan" was always about him.

"The label thinks we can spin this. Chloe and I... we do this short promotional trip to Nashville. Just a few days."

"A promotional trip?" I asked, disbelief making my voice tight.

"Yeah, like, we lean into it a little. Let people think she' s my temporary PR girlfriend. It' ll generate buzz for the new album. They say all press is good press."

My breath caught. A PR girlfriend.

"And our wedding, Ethan? It's in three weeks."

"It's still on, babe, of course it is! This is just... business. It' ll make the wedding even bigger news when we 'reunite'. Think of the publicity."

He sounded excited, like this was a brilliant idea.

My heart felt like a stone.

"Okay, Ethan," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "If you think it' s best for the band."

"Great! I knew you' d understand. You always do." He sounded relieved. "I gotta go, meetings all day. Love you."

He hung up.

I stared at my phone.

Love me.

The words felt like ash in my mouth.

I took a deep breath.

Then I called Aunt Carol.

"Aunt Carol," I said, my voice steady now. "I need a favor. A big one."

"Anything for you, sweetheart. What is it?" Her voice was warm, concerned.

"The wedding invitations. Can you change the groom's name?"

A beat of silence. "To who, Sarah?"

"To David. David Miller."

Aunt Carol had always liked David, an old family friend, now a successful architect. She' d introduced us years ago, long before Ethan. David had always been kind, respectful, a quiet admirer.

"Consider it done, honey," Aunt Carol said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "I always knew that boy was no good."

Ethan would find out soon enough.

He had just called me from our shared apartment.

He was probably packing for his "promotional trip" with Chloe.

He would soon overhear me on the phone if he hadn't already left.

I walked into the living room. He was there, a suitcase open on the bed in our room, visible from the hall.

He looked up, phone still in his hand from his call with the label, a confused frown on his face.

"Who' s David Miller?" he asked, his voice sharp. "And why are you changing the groom's name on our wedding invitations?"