Chapter 2

Finley Church POV:

Later that night, I was pretending to be asleep when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. The scent of Ezekiel's cologne, usually a comfort, now made my stomach turn.

"Sorry, had a last-minute work thing," he whispered against my hair, his voice a low murmur. "You didn't wait, did you?"

I didn't answer. I lay there, rigid as a board, every muscle in my body screaming.

He seemed to take my silence as confirmation, and I could feel the relief in the way his body relaxed against mine. "Good girl. I knew you wouldn't. You hate the heat."

He tried to press a kiss to my neck, but I flinched and shoved him away, rolling over to face him in the dim light. "That's right, I didn't wait. Happy now?"

His eyes widened, stunned by my sharp tone. For a moment, he just stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. "Finley, what the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You've stood me up ninety-nine times for Blake since she started six months ago. Ninety-nine times I made excuses for you. I told myself you were busy. I told you I didn't wait so you wouldn't feel guilty. And you just took it for granted."

Just then, his phone, lying on the nightstand between us, buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification.

Blake: Goodnight, Zeke. Sweet dreams. <3

He snatched the phone, his movements jerky, and quickly silenced it, turning the screen down. "It's just a coworker thing," he lied, and he was terrible at it. His eyes wouldn't meet mine.

He tried to change the subject, to smooth over the crack that had just split wide open between us. "We have the company farewell party tomorrow. Let's just get some sleep."

He reached for me again, trying to pull me into an embrace, but I scrambled away, moving to the very edge of the bed. His face hardened. With a frustrated sigh, he got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the guest room door behind him.

The next day at the party felt like a waking nightmare. It was supposed to be a celebration of our next chapter, but instead, it was the final, ugly scene of our ending. Blake was attached to Ezekiel's arm, her fingers laced through his, looking every bit the triumphant victor.

When she saw me approach, she put on a show of feigned panic, her eyes wide. "Finley! Don't get the wrong idea. Zeke just felt bad for me since I don't know anyone here, so he offered to be my date."

I met her gaze, my own expression cold as ice. "So? Don't create drama where there is none."

As if on cue, Blake's eyes welled up with tears. Her lower lip trembled. It was a performance she had perfected over the last six months.

Ezekiel immediately rounded on me, his fingers clamping down on my wrist like a vice. "Finley! Have you had enough? Blake is my intern. I invited her. We'll talk about this at home. Now, apologize to Blake!"

I laughed. A raw, humorless sound that turned heads nearby. I yanked my arm from his grasp, the stinging sensation on my skin a dull echo of the pain in my chest. "What if I say no?"

Six months. Blake had been here for six months, and he had fought with me more in that time than in the previous nine and a half years combined. All she had to do was look sad, and I was automatically the villain.

I turned and stormed out of the ballroom, my heart aching with a familiar, sickening thud. This wasn't the first time. I remembered the day I came home to find Blake in our bedroom, a necklace Ezekiel had given me for our anniversary clasped around her neck. He hadn't even let me explain before he was yelling at me for "making her uncomfortable."

When I got back to the apartment, he was already there, pacing in the living room. His face was a thunderous mask of impatience.

"Finley, can you stop being jealous over nothing? It's exhausting," he said, the moment I closed the door.

"You're right," I said, my voice flat and devoid of all emotion. "It is exhausting." I looked him straight in the eye. "Let's end this. It's better for everyone."

He stared at me, his jaw working silently. I expected him to argue, to yell, to try and manipulate me again. Instead, he just nodded slowly, a dark look in his eyes.

"Fine. We'll cool off for a bit." He took a step closer, leaning in so his voice was a low, menacing whisper. "But listen to me, Finley. That transfer application can still be edited until midnight tonight."

He smirked, that old, confident smirk that I used to find so charming. "Look at my LinkedIn profile carefully, Finley. Don't fill it out wrong."