Chapter 1

My name is Alex Carter.

The woman walking ahead of me was my fourth girlfriend, Emily Lane. She was beautiful, gentle, and always knew how to make me feel understood. When she smiled, two dimples appeared on her cheeks. She loved white dresses, and she turned heads wherever she went.

But right now, she was holding hands with a middle-aged man, laughing and chatting as they headed toward the motel glowing with pink neon lights.

I stood on the corner, gripping half a can of beer that had gone warm, my shadow stretched long and thin under the neon lights.

This wasn't the first time.

Honestly, this wasn't the first time.

I closed my eyes, and it was like a movie reel playing in my head. My first love, Chloe Brooks, was the campus queen. I thought I was the luckiest guy alive.

But three months into our relationship, she cheated on me with the basketball team captain. He was 6'8" and could dunk. I had to admit, I couldn't compete with that.

My second girlfriend, Sophie Reed, was a literary type. She loved Haruki Murakami, folk music, and called me "interesting."

Six months later, she ended up with a senior from her club. He played guitar, wrote poetry, and his social media was all about living the good life. I had to admit, I couldn't compete with that.

My third girlfriend, Grace Taylor, was a total boss at work. She was sharp, decisive, and said I was the gentlest guy she'd ever met.

A year later, she cheated on me with a married client who could bring her multi-million-dollar projects. I had to admit, I still couldn't compete with that.

Every single one of them cheated on me. Every single one made me feel like I wasn't enough. And every single one said the same thing to me before leaving. "Alex, you're a good guy. I just don't deserve you."

That sounded like bullshit to me.

They were perfect for me. It was I who didn't deserve a girlfriend who stayed loyal.

I watched Emily and that guy walk into the motel, the pink neon lights making them look like they were coated in cheap candy.

I was pissed.

But more than that, I was lost.

I was pissed because I got screwed over again. I was lost because I couldn't wrap my head around why every girl I ever dated ended up betraying me.

Was it me? Was I not handsome enough? I mean, I'm not a star like Ryan Evans, but I'm definitely not ugly.

Was I not rich enough? I made 120 thousand dollars a year. That's not filthy rich in this city, but it's decent.

Was my personality the problem? I asked my exes, and they all said I was a good guy and that I was gentle, considerate, and never lost my temper.

So what the hell was it?

Is faithful love even real in this world?

I chucked the beer can away. It rattled twice on the pavement, echoing hollow in the night.

Forget it. Time to go home, crash, and get up for work tomorrow. This was the fourth time. I should be numb to it by now.

But I just stood there.

It felt like my feet were nailed to the pavement. My eyes were fixed on that motel door, refusing to look away.

Hell no. I wasn't fucking okay with this.

I'd be going in. I wanted the truth. Even if it would break me again, I needed to hear it straight from her.

I took a deep breath and strode toward the motel.

The front desk was run by a woman in her forties, scrolling through short videos on her phone without even looking up. "Hourly or overnight?" she asked.

"Hey, which room did those two who just walked in take?" I asked.

She finally looked up, giving me a once-over like she'd seen this a hundred times before. "Checking up on someone, huh, kid?"

"I'm her boyfriend," I said.

"Then I really can't tell you," she said, slapping her phone down on the desk. "You young folks are always snooping around. What if it's some domestic dispute? What if it's something criminal? I'm not getting involved."

I took a deep breath, doing my best to sound calm. "I'm not here to make a scene. I just want to talk to her, that's all. Don't worry, I'm not going to hit anyone or trash the place. Just tell me the room number, and I'll go up myself."

She stared at me for five seconds, sizing me up like she was trying to figure out if I was dangerous. Finally, she sighed and pointed toward the stairs. "Second floor, room 207."

"Thanks."

I climbed the stairs, each step feeling like I was walking on cotton. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear my pulse thudding in my temples.

I saw Room 207.

The door was closed but not locked, leaving a thin crack.

I could hear voices coming from inside.

Emily's voice came through, thick with tears. "I really don't know what to do. It's not that I don't love him, it's just..."

Then the middle-aged man's voice, deep and gentle, cut in. "Take your time. I know you've had it rough all these years, Dad knows."

That guy was her father? I froze in place.

Seriously? It wasn't a lover, not a sugar daddy, not the guy she was cheating with. It was her father?

My hand froze in midair, just inches from the door.

Emily was still crying. "I don't want to break up, I really don't. But Alex is just too good for me. I feel like I don't deserve him. And there's this weird thing that happens when I'm with him. My mind starts wandering to other guys. I swear, I don't mean to, I just can't control it."

"It's not your fault," the man said, his voice steady. "When I left you and your mom when you were a kid, it made you feel insecure about relationships. This isn't on you, it's on me."

I stood there at the door, listening, and it felt like someone had just dropped a bomb in my brain.