Chapter 1

My husband canceled our eighteenth-anniversary trip so he could take his childhood friend in my place.

Ten minutes earlier, I was packing my suitcase in our bedroom. I carefully folded a new summer dress. I placed my grandmother's necklace in my jewelry bag.

Now, Brooke stood in my living room.

She wore a light jacket. She held my printed itinerary in her hand.

"I just need to check what time we're leaving Friday."

My hand stopped on the banister.

Friday was my anniversary trip.

Four nights by the water, followed by three in the little town where we'd spent our honeymoon.

I had booked it three months ago.

I looked at Daniel.

Instead of taking the paper from her, my husband pulled out a chair.

"Come sit down, Brooke."

That hurt before he even answered me.

He was making her comfortable while I waited to learn what had happened to my vacation.

"Claire," he said. "I was going to tell you tonight."

I looked at the itinerary in Brooke's hand. My handwriting filled the margins. Ferry times. Restaurant addresses. A note about the balcony room Daniel liked.

"Tell me what?"

"Brooke's divorce has been awful," he said. "She needs a break."

For one stupid second, I thought he meant she was joining us.

"So she's coming too?"

He looked away.

"Your ticket was refundable. I canceled it and booked hers."

For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard.

I took out my phone and opened the airline reservation.

My name was marked CANCELED.

I checked the modification date.

Last Tuesday.

For the past weeks, I sat next to him on the couch every single night. I showed him pictures of the private beach. I read the dinner menus out loud to him.

He smiled. He nodded. He kissed my cheek.

He had watched me plan a trip he already knew I was not taking.

"Put it back." I said. My voice sounded strange in the quiet room."This is our anniversary."

Daniel glanced toward Brooke.

That one look told me everything.

Brooke immediately touched his arm.

"Daniel, maybe we shouldn't go."

I looked at her.

For half a second, I almost believed her.

Then she added quietly, "I don't want Claire thinking I took something from her."

Daniel's expression softened.

"You didn't."

Brooke gave him a small, grateful smile.

Then she looked at me.

"I really don't want this to become a problem between you two."

The itinerary was still in her hands. She did not hand it back to me. She did not offer to stay home.

She only needed to apologize, and my husband would step forward to protect her.

Daniel stepped in immediately.

"She shouldn't have to sit home alone right now."

"And I should?"

"That's not what I said."

It was exactly what he had arranged.

He sighed.

"Haven't you been really tired from work lately?" he said. "This is a good chance for you to rest at home. We can go to the beach next time. Maybe for Christmas."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

I was tired because I took extra shifts. I worked late to save money for this exact trip.

I had taken extra bookkeeping work for months to pay for the ocean-view room.

I had requested the week off.

I had booked the hotel six months ahead.

Now my husband was telling me staying home was somehow a favor.

Brooke unfolded the itinerary.

"Should I call the hotel about check-in?"

She had heard everything.

She was still asking how to use the trip I had planned.

Daniel reached toward the folder beside my laptop."It's all in there."

My hand landed on it first.

I pulled the folder toward me.

It held our reservations, insurance information, and the list of places Daniel and I had said we'd finally visit.

I wasn't going to hand it over while they waited for me to stop objecting.

"If you're taking my trip," I said, "you can plan it yourself."

Daniel's face tightened.

I closed the folder.

Then I turned toward the stairs.

I was done standing there while my husband explained why another woman deserved the week I had planned for us.

Then, Brooke took a step forward.

She tilted her head. She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.

"Claire," Brooke asked softly. "What about the anniversary dinner? Since you won't be needing the table anymore, can Daniel and I take it?"

I turned around.

She was holding my itinerary open now.

Her finger rested on the line I had circled three months ago.

Saturday. 7:30 p.m.

18th Anniversary Dinner.

"If you're not going," she said, "I thought maybe we could still use it."

My husband had not only given her my seat on the plane.

He had given her my eighteenth anniversary too.