Chapter 1

On my 35th birthday, my husband canceled our trip for a ski weekend with his college ex.

Ten seconds earlier, Conrad had been holding my hand across the table.

Thirty-five candles burned between us. He had cooked my favorite meal, opened our anniversary wine, and promised the coast trip would be "just us."

Now Sloane stood in our dining room with a ski bag over one shoulder and Conrad’s red boots in her hand.

"Still leaving Saturday at eight, right, Con?"

My fingers stopped around my wineglass.

Saturday morning was when Conrad and I were supposed to drive to the coast.This was supposed to be our first trip alone since our honeymoon.

Sloane looked at the cake between us.

Thirty-five candles burned beside the wine Conrad had poured for me.

"Oh." She shifted the ski bag higher on her shoulder. "Am I interrupting?"

Conrad stood beside her, suddenly too still.

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

I looked from him to the ski boots in Sloane’s hand.

"Tell me what?"

It was not the first trip Sloane had taken with my husband.

It was the first time he had erased a trip with me to make room for one with her.

Sloane was Conrad’s college girlfriend.

They had broken up years before I met him.

They had never stopped traveling together.

Last summer, they flew to New Zealand because the flights were cheap and the snow was good.

That same month, Conrad told me he was too busy for three days at the coast with me.

Before that came ski weekends, hiking trips, and late-night calls whenever weather ruined one of their plans.

Whenever I objected, Conrad gave me the same answer.

They had always traveled together.

Sloane was only a friend.

I did not ski.

And I had known about their friendship when I married him.

For five years, I had tried not to become the jealous wife.

Tonight, her ski bag was leaning against my dining room wall.

Conrad rubbed the back of his neck.

"There’s fresh powder coming this weekend. Probably the best conditions they’ve had all season."

"So you’re going skiing with Sloane."

Conrad rubbed the back of his neck.

"The beach isn’t going anywhere. We can move it a few weeks. But snow like this doesn’t happen whenever we want.""

For a second, I thought I had misheard him.

I had booked the cottage two months ago.

I had moved two client meetings, requested the days off months ago, and made a reservation at the seafood place Conrad once said he wanted to try.

Two months of planning became "a few weeks" in his mouth.

"When did you book the cabin?" I asked.

Neither of them answered immediately.

Sloane looked at the candles. Conrad looked at me.

"Yesterday," he finally said.

I felt something cold settle beneath my ribs. "So she knew my birthday trip was canceled before I did."

"Nothing was canceled yet," Conrad said. "I was going to talk to you."

Sloane looked at my angry face. She let out a soft, easy laugh.

She smoothly played the peacemaker.

"Maren, please do not be upset with him. The timing is just bad. You do not even ski. You would hate being up there all day."

I looked at her. "I am not asking to go skiing."

Then I looked back at my husband.

"Stay home with me. We take the trip you promised me, or you take the trip you planned with her. Pick one."

The room went quiet enough that I could hear wax dripping onto the cake plate.

Conrad's expression changed. "Why are you turning this into a competition?"

"I did not book two trips for the same weekend. You did."

Sloane pushed away from the chair. "I can go alone. It is fine."

Conrad turned toward her immediately. "That is not what I said."

The speed of it hurt more than I expected.

She only had to offer to leave, and he rushed to make sure she did not feel unwanted.

I was his wife, sitting in front of my own birthday cake, and apparently I could wait a few weeks.

Conrad faced me again. "I know you put work into the cottage. I will cover the cancellation fee. Whatever you lose, I will pay it back."

I stared at him.

He thought the problem was the deposit.

Not the weekend he had promised me. Not the fact that he had replaced our plan before he bothered to tell me. Not even that Sloane had known first.

He reached for my hand again. "We will do something when I get back. I promise."

When I get back.

He had already chosen.

My laptop was still open on the kitchen counter. The cottage confirmation filled the screen: three nights, ocean view, check-in Saturday.

I stood and walked over to it.

Conrad watched me. "Do you want me to call them?"

My finger hovered over the cancellation button.

Then I closed the page without touching it.

"No," I said. "Do not cancel it."