Chapter 1

The Thanksgiving dinner was a disaster.

I stared at the two gifts on the table. One was a vintage Chanel bag, a gift from Carter' s mother to Sofia. The other was a twenty-dollar Starbucks gift card, her gift to me.

Seven years. I had been with her son for seven years.

Sofia Rossi, the daughter of their former housekeeper, smiled sweetly. "Oh, Mrs. Vance, you shouldn' t have. It' s too much."

"Nonsense, dear. You deserve it," Carter' s mother said, her eyes flicking to me for a second, cold and dismissive.

Later, in the car, the silence was heavy. I finally broke it.

"That hurt, Carter."

He didn' t even look at me. "What hurt?"

"The gift. A twenty-dollar gift card. After seven years, that' s all I am to her?"

Sofia, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward. "Amy, I think you' re overreacting. It' s the thought that counts. Mrs. Vance was just being practical."

Carter nodded, his eyes on the road. "Sofia' s right. You' re being materialistic. After everything I' ve given you, you' re upset about a gift card?"

My hands clenched in my lap. I looked at his profile, the handsome face I had loved for so long.

"I' m done, Carter."

"Done with what? Pouting?"

"I want to break up."

He finally turned to look at me, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

"You want to break up? Over a gift card? Amy, you gave up a full ride to Georgetown to be with me in New York. You sacrificed a real career to be my paralegal. And now you' re throwing it all away for twenty dollars? That' s insane."

His words didn' t defend us. They just listed my sacrifices as proof of my foolishness.

Sofia' s hand landed on his shoulder. "Carter, don' t be upset. Maybe she' s just tired."

He reached back, squeezing her hand. "Thanks, Sof. You always get it."

I watched their hands in the rearview mirror. It was so easy for them. So natural.

I had an awful thought then, clear and sharp. I wasn't the love of his life. I was just the girl who was there when Sofia was in Europe. I was a placeholder. And now she was back.

He pulled into the garage of our apartment building, his grip on the steering wheel tight. He turned to me, his voice low and commanding.

"We' re not breaking up. We' re going upstairs, and you' re going to calm down."

He got out of the car and walked around to Sofia' s side to open her door, leaving me alone in the passenger seat. The pain in my chest was a dull, heavy thing. He had never listened. Not when I told him I was unhappy at the firm, not when I said his mother' s comments bothered me, not ever.

He was listening to Sofia now, though. He was hanging on her every word. The difference was so stark, so brutal. It was all the clarity I ever needed.