Chapter 1

On our third anniversary, my boyfriend, Ryan Cooper, rented the entire bar and flew in all our friends to celebrate.

A few rounds in, the spinning bottle landed on him. Roars of cheers erupted.

"Alright, Ryan. Truth time: name the biggest reason you asked Emma Scott out!"

I lifted my gaze to Ryan beside me.

Ryan chuckled. "Easy. Emma's hot, and among the hot girls, she was the easiest catch."

The room went dead silent.

Ryan's friends were totally caught off guard by his answer. Their faces were priceless.

No one dared to say a word.

But I, the one at the center of the storm, decided to break the ice.

I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "Oh, he's just joking! I told him not to drink so much, and look what happened. Guess booze really gives you guts, huh?"

The tension finally eased, and a few of Ryan's close buddies chimed in to keep the banter going.

"Yeah, Ryan, only Emma's got the patience to put up with your jokes!"

"No way, that answer was wild! Ryan, you owe us three shots."

Ryan just smirked, not a hint of annoyance on his face. He took the drink with a grin, acting like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

Seeing that, I made up an excuse about needing the bathroom and ducked out of the private room.

Sure enough, as soon as I closed the door, the vibe inside changed instantly.

"Ryan, are you nuts? How could you say that? Aren't you worried Emma's gonna get mad?"

"Why bother?" Ryan replied, sounding totally laid-back. "If she gets upset, I can swap her out for another girlfriend whenever I want. Girls like her? If you've got enough cash, you can get a whole bunch of them."

Was that so?

I stood in the hallway, running my fingers over my cheek as I looked in the mirror.

He really did think I was pretty.

Honestly, I didn't expect that.

I composed myself in front of the mirror, timed it just right, and then calmly walked back into the private room.

Inside, everyone was back to joking around like nothing had happened, as if that whole cringey moment never even existed.

"What took you so long?" Ryan drawled, lounging on the couch, his voice thick with booze.

"Just touched up my makeup," I said with a smile, settling down next to him. I grabbed a slice of fruit and offered it to him. "Don't drink too much, okay? I'm your designated driver tonight."

By the time the party wrapped up, Ryan was totally wasted.

Just like I'd done a hundred times before, I fished his car keys out of his pocket, propped him up, and waved goodbye to his friends.

Everyone kept teasing, saying I was so thoughtful and Ryan was lucky to have me. I just smiled and nodded, then got Ryan settled in the passenger seat.

The car glided smoothly through the night.

Ryan had his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed.

I turned up the heater a notch and cracked his window just a bit, so a little fresh air could drift in.

When we got to his apartment, I slipped off my shoes, turned on the lights, and helped him lie down comfortably on the couch.

I headed to the kitchen, grabbed the honey and lemon from a cabinet he could never remember, and made a soothing hangover remedy at just the right temperature.

When I brought it over, he was half-awake, drinking it with my help, one sip at a time.

"My head hurts..." he mumbled, sounding totally out of it.

I set the bowl down, knelt on the carpet by the couch, and pressed my fingers just right against his temples.

The pressure and angle were exactly how he liked them.

He let out a satisfied sigh, his whole body gradually relaxing.

All that remained in the air was the ticking of the clock and the soft sound of my fingers moving against his skin.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice husky and relaxed from the massage. "Emma, about what I said at the bar earlier... You're not mad, right?"

I didn't pause for a second, still working my fingers over his temples, my voice easy and light. "Of course not. I know you were just messing around because you were drunk.

"If I'd taken it seriously, it would've just put you on the spot in front of everyone."

Ryan seemed pretty satisfied with my answer. He opened his eyes, a hint of approval flickering in his drunken gaze. "You're a lot more mature than you used to be."

I just smiled and didn't say anything.

He looked genuinely pleased with how "mature" I was acting. He reached out, wrapped his hand around my wrist, and his thumb gently stroked my skin, with a teasing edge in his touch. "Why don't you stay over tonight, hmm?"

I lowered my gaze, keeping my voice soft. "Maybe not tonight, okay? It's just not the best time."

The warmth between us vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold chill.

Ryan's face fell, and he jerked his hand away, clearly pissed off at being rejected. "Then get the hell out."

Not a word. No drama. No confrontation.

Without a word, I stood up, picked up my bag from the couch, and changed into my shoes at the door.

I opened and closed the door in one fluid, silent motion.

The sensor light blinked on, then quickly died out, leaving the hallway in darkness again.

Standing in the shadows, I listened to the muffled crash of glass from inside. A faint smile curled at the corner of my lips.