Chapter 1
On our third wedding anniversary, I placed the divorce papers in front of Gavin Moore.
He didn't look up. "Are you sure about this? Without me, who's going to cover your medical bills for your heart condition?"
I smiled and signed my name, my pen shaking in my hand.
Three months later, at my funeral, Gavin stormed into the chapel, eyes bloodshot. "Naomi, did you fake your death to trick me into that divorce?"
But the casket was empty. Only my letter remained: [This time, there's no pain. Don't look for me.]
*****
Naomi Lynn had been on her feet in the kitchen for three hours straight.
She was cooking pot roast, a dish she'd spent a whole month learning from the lady who ran the breakfast place downstairs, and even now, it was barely good enough to serve.
Gavin didn't like sweet food, so she cut the sugar by two-thirds. He liked his meat falling-apart tender, so she watched the stove like a hawk, not daring to leave until a fork slid right through the beef.
Outside, the sky shifted from bright to dusky amber, then sank into a heavy gray-blue. The clock in the living room chimed seven, then eight.
Naomi kept lifting and replacing the lid of the pot over and over, watching the steam gradually dissipate.
On the dining table, there were four dishes and a soup, with a six-inch red velvet cake right in the center. She'd made it herself because red velvet was the first dessert Gavin ever bought her.
She'd scrawled "Happy Third Anniversary" in frosting across the top, the letters wobbly and uneven.
She instantly regretted it, wishing she could scrape it off and start over, but the frosting had already hardened.
She let it go. He never paid attention to such things anyway.
At 7:50, Naomi finally heard the key turn in the lock.
Her heart suddenly sped up. She stood up without thinking, her fingers tightening around her apron before she let go. She put on the smile she'd practiced countless times for the entryway.
"You're back? I made..." Naomi started, but her words trailed off.
Behind Gavin was a young, beautiful woman with flawless makeup, wearing killer heels, her arm hooked around his.
Naomi knew her. She was Olivia Brown, Gavin's secretary, or rather, his not-so-secret mistress.
"Hi, Naomi," Olivia greeted her, her voice syrupy sweet. "Mr. Moore said you cooked up a whole feast tonight and let me crash dinner. You don't mind, do you?"
Naomi's gaze lingered on the hand hooked around Gavin's arm. The nails were freshly manicured, studded with rhinestones that glittered under the lights.
Naomi thought of her own nails: clean, neatly trimmed, and bare. With all the chores, the soup she made for Gavin, and the late-night meals she prepared when he worked overtime, she'd given up on manicures long ago.
"Not at all," Naomi heard herself reply, her voice so steady it felt almost unfamiliar. "Come in and have a seat."
Gavin never spared her a glance.
He swapped his shoes, strode straight to the table, barely glanced at the spread, and finally let his gaze linger on the cake.
The wobbly lettering must have finally caught his eye. He frowned, then reached out and coldly pushed the cake aside. "It's too sweet. Don't bother making it again."
Naomi watched as the cake bearing the words "Happy Third Anniversary" was shoved to the far edge of the table, right next to a plate of salad, untouched and wilted.
The frosting on the cake had smeared under the lights, reducing the message to an unreadable blur.
"Alright," Naomi replied quietly.
Olivia covered her mouth, giggling as her eyes swept over Naomi from head to toe with undisguised scrutiny and contempt. "Naomi, you're so domestic. Did you make all these dishes yourself?
"Amazing. I could never manage that. I can't even make boxed mac and cheese without burning the pot."
Gavin sat down and looked up at Olivia. "If it burns, just toss it. No need to bother."
Olivia gave Gavin a flirty shove. The two locked eyes, exchanging a look Naomi couldn't read and honestly didn't want to.
Naomi stood by the table, suddenly feeling like an outsider.
This was the table she'd set herself, the dishes she'd spent all afternoon making, the anniversary she'd been waiting for with all her heart. And yet, standing here now, she felt like she didn't even have a place in her own home.
"Naomi, come sit down," Olivia called out, as if she were the hostess here.
Naomi sat down in silence, right across from Gavin.