Chapter 1

On our third wedding anniversary, I watched my husband promise another woman’s daughter that he would never miss another family dinner.

He made that promise into a microphone.

I sat alone at the restaurant where he had sworn to meet me by eight.

On my phone, a livestream from Sophie’s private school filled the screen. Mason sat at a crowded table between Sophie and her mother, Vanessa—his PR manager and an old college friend.

He was wearing the silver tie I had chosen for his birthday.

A cheerful host stopped beside their table and smiled at Sophie.

“What a beautiful family. Is this your dad, sweetie?”

Ten-year-old Sophie wrapped both hands around Mason’s arm.

“Will you come to every family dinner with us from now on?”

Mason looked down at her hopeful face.

“Of course,” he said softly. “I promise.”

He did not correct the host.

He did not say he was only Vanessa’s boss.

He simply smiled while the room applauded them.

Beside my hand lay a black leather booklet.

Mason had given it to me on our wedding day. Inside had been fifty-two dinner vouchers—one Friday night for every week of our first year as husband and wife.

Unused dinners could be moved to a later date.

Every time Mason canceled, the voucher remained inside the booklet, waiting for another Friday.

What should have ended during our first year had followed us into our third.

Tonight, I was using Voucher Number 50.

Alone.

The waiter approached my table for the third time and glanced at the untouched place setting across from me.

“Ma’am, should I clear the other set of cutlery?”

I looked at the time.

Nine forty-two.

More than two hours had passed since Mason texted that he was leaving the office. The ice in both water glasses had melted. The candle between us had burned down to a pool of wax.

This was not the first promise he had broken.

He had missed my birthday dinner because Vanessa could not handle a client alone. He had left our Christmas trip early when Sophie became upset. He had canceled so many Fridays that I had stopped dressing for them until he confirmed he was already on his way.

But tonight was our third anniversary.

And my mother had finally agreed to see him.

She had opposed our marriage from the beginning. Now she was in the hospital, and her doctor had warned me that we might not get another chance.

I had planned to tell Mason over dinner, then take him to the hospital to meet her.

This morning, he had kissed my cheek before leaving.

“I’ll be there by eight, Avery,” he had said, looking directly into my eyes. “I swear.”

He had sounded sincere.

Mason always sounded sincere.

That was how he kept me waiting.

On the livestream, Sophie rested her head against his shoulder. Vanessa leaned closer as someone raised a phone to photograph the three of them.

They looked like a family.

I looked at the empty chair across from me.

“You can take it away,” I told the waiter. “He isn’t coming.”

The pity in his expression hurt more than I expected.

He quietly removed the second place setting.

I paid the bill and handed him Voucher Number 50.

A few minutes later, he returned with the receipt.

Two lines were printed beneath the date.

Dinner 50 completed.

Guests attended: 1.

I folded the receipt and placed it inside my bag.

My phone lit up before I could stand.

Three messages from Mason appeared on the screen.

Avery, I am so sorry.

I know how important tonight is to us.

But Sophie only has me tonight. You always have me.

I read the final sentence twice.

You always have me.

That was what he believed.

No matter how many dinners he missed, no matter how many times he chose someone who needed him more, I would remain exactly where he had left me.

Waiting.

Above his messages was a missed call from Lena at Hart Hotels—the company I had walked away from when I chose Mason three years ago.

I dismissed it.

Then I opened Claire Bennett’s contact.

Claire had handled every legal matter for my family since I was nineteen.

I typed three lines.

Prepare a divorce petition for me.

Do not file it yet.

And do not contact Mason.

I pressed send.

Then I opened the black leather booklet.

Two vouchers remained.

Dinner 51.

Dinner 52.

I had already made myself one final promise.

Not a single dinner would follow me into our fourth year.