Chapter 1

I'd been with Ethan for seven years before my mom finally agreed to meet him.

At dinner, the moment my mom raised her cup, Ethan's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and gave my mom an apologetic smile. "Just a moment, I need to take this call."

That moment turned into forty minutes.

The food on the table had long since gone cold.

When he came back, his jacket reeked of women's perfume.

My mom said nothing. She just looked at me. The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than any words of blame ever could.

Ethan sat down beside me and ruffled my hair.

"Sorry about that. Had a last-minute issue with a project."

I forced a smile.

A few days later, I got my marriage certificate. Only the groom wasn't him.

When my mom left the restaurant, her back was slightly hunched.

A taxi waited by the curb.

Before she opened the door, she turned to look at me. "Rachel, just trust your own judgment."

Nothing more.

I nodded and watched the taxi disappear into the night.

Ethan stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "Is your mom upset?"

"No," I said.

"That's good." He let out a relieved breath. "Next time I'll put my phone on silent. Today was really just an accident."

I turned away, slipping out from under his hand. "What project?"

"Hmm?" He looked confused.

"You said there was an issue with a project," I said, meeting his eyes. "What project requires you to step outside for a forty-minute phone call?"

He paused, then smiled. "Listen to that tone. You sound like you're suspicious of me. It was Serena's proposal---there was a problem with it. It's her first time handling a project this big, and she panicked. I had to calm her down."

Serena.

His assistant. Six months with the company. Twenty-three years old.

"That took forty minutes?"

"Well," he said, pulling me close---this time I didn't dodge. "It should've taken ten minutes, but she started crying. I couldn't just leave her like that. You know how girls are---once the emotions start, it's a whole thing."

"Not like you, though." He looked down at me, his gaze tender. "My Rachel always understands."

A bitter taste spread through my chest.

It was always like this.

He always said I was the most understanding, then felt perfectly justified giving his time and patience to someone else.

"Ethan."

"Yeah?"

"Today was the first time my mom met you."

His hand stilled. "I know."

"She dyed her hair specially for today." My voice was flat. "She hasn't dyed her hair in ten years."

Ethan was silent for a few seconds.

Finally, he just patted my shoulder. "I know. That's why I feel even worse. Next time, I promise I'll make it up to her properly."

"Let's find a time. I'll take her to that Italian place she likes. Sound good?"

He finished speaking and glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Let me take you home. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

He raised his hand to hail a cab.

I stood there, watching his profile.

The streetlight stretched his shadow long across the pavement.

He was still the same Ethan---always saying things no one could fault.

But suddenly I remembered three years ago, when my mom first said she wanted to meet him.

Back then Ethan had said, "Let me get a bit more established first. I want to give her a better impression."

Two years ago, my mom brought it up again.

He'd said, "Next year. Once this project wraps up, I'll have more free time."

Last year, he said he was preparing for it.

This year, they finally met.

And then came today.

The car stopped in front of my building.

Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a goodnight kiss.

I lowered my head, pretending to search through my bag, and avoided it.

"I'm tired. Drive safe."

His hand froze mid-air. After a moment, he pulled it back. "Alright. Get some rest."

I got out of the car.

The moment I closed the door, I heard his phone ring again.

He answered it, his voice warm with laughter. "Still awake? Don't cry. I looked over the proposal for you..."

The car started and drove away.

I stood downstairs, watching the taillights disappear around the corner.

My phone buzzed.

A message from my mom:

"Are you asleep yet?"

My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed: "Not yet."

After a while, she sent another message:

"Rachel, I'm not old-fashioned. If you really love him, I won't stop you."

"But I'll say this once."

"Don't undervalue yourself."