Chapter 2

"Tired?" He sounded surprised. "Is everything okay, Eli?"

"Just a long day," I lied, moving towards the stairs.

"Well, let me make it better," he said, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive purr. He followed me, his hand reaching for mine.

I flinched away from his touch.

He stopped, a flicker of something-annoyance? confusion?-in his eyes. "Okay. I get it. I' ve been working a lot. Let' s have a date night tomorrow. Just the two of us. We can go to that place you love, the one by the coast."

"Fine," I said.

He smiled, relieved. "Great. I have a surprise for you, too."

"I have one for you, as well," I said, thinking of the gray velvet box upstairs.

His smile widened. "Oh yeah? Is it my birthday already?"

The question was a bitter joke. My own birthday had been last week. He' d forgotten. Sent a text from a meeting in Tokyo. 'Happy bday, babe. Super busy. Celebrate when I' m back.' He never mentioned it again.

"No," I said. "Just because."

He came closer, trying to kiss me. I turned my head, and his lips met my cheek.

"Okay," he said, pulling back, looking a little hurt. "I' ll see you in the morning."

I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, listening to his steady breathing beside me. This was a performance now. The last act of a long-running play. And I knew my lines.

The next evening, he was all charm, holding the car door open for me, his hand on the small of my back.

He chattered the whole way to the restaurant, talking about a new deal, a difficult board member, a rival company' s failure. I made the right noises, nodding and smiling in the right places.

As he pulled into the valet line, something on the passenger side floor caught my eye. A single, long, blonde hair.

Jami' s hair.

I looked at it, then looked away. I didn' t pick it up. I didn' t point it out.

There was no point in fighting anymore. You don' t argue with a ghost. And he was already a ghost to me.

The restaurant was where he' d proposed. Perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the waves crashing below. It was supposed to be our place.

Tonight, it would be the place where it all ended.

As we walked in, a woman at a nearby table gasped. "Oh my God, it' s Dustin Powell!"

He gave her a gracious nod, the tech king in his element.

He' d just called work, a "quick emergency." He stood a few feet away, his back to me, his voice low and urgent.

"I' m sorry, baby, I have to step out," he said, turning back to me, his face a mask of regret. "Something' s come up at the office. A server farm in quadrant four is down. It' s a mess."

"Go," I said.

"I' ll be so quick. Twenty minutes, tops. Don' t you move, okay? Order us a bottle of the good stuff." He winked.

A woman at the next table sighed dreamily. "He' s so dedicated. And so in love with his wife."

I knew where he was going. He wasn' t talking to his head of engineering. He was talking to Jami. The "server farm" was her apartment. The "emergency" was her.

I went back to the car. I told the valet I' d forgotten my wrap.

His second phone, the one he thought I didn' t know about, was in the glove compartment. It was unlocked.

The texts were right there.

Jami: 'Heard you' re on a date with the old lady. Boring.'

Dustin: 'Have to keep up appearances. Be there in 10. Wear that red thing I like.'

Jami: 'Hurry up. I have a surprise for you.'

Then a photo. Jami, pouting at the camera, wearing a red lace teddy. On the nightstand behind her was a small, blue box from Tiffany' s.

My stomach churned. I felt a violent, visceral need to throw up. The perfectly cooked scallops I' d just eaten threatened to make a reappearance.

He came back twenty-five minutes later, looking pleased with himself. "All handled. See? Told you I' d be quick."

I forced a smile, the muscles in my face protesting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeing my pale face. "You look a little green."

"Just... the scallops," I managed to say. "Maybe they were a bit off."

"That' s it," he said, his face darkening. "I' m going to have a word with the manager. This place has gone downhill."

"No, Dustin, don' t," I said. "It' s fine."

He looked at me, his brow furrowed. "You know, I was thinking about what you said. About my birthday. I know I forgot yours. I' m a jerk. I' m so sorry, Eli."

The apology, so late, so hollow, hung in the air between us.

"I' m going to make it up to you," he said, his voice earnest. "I promise."

I thought of the red lace teddy. The Tiffany box. The server farm in quadrant four.

I felt the vomit rise in my throat. I stumbled out of my chair and ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the stall before I was sick.