Chapter 1
Ten days before our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband brought his recently divorced first love into our home and asked me to give her the next ten days.
I was in the kitchen, reviewing the final menu for our anniversary dinner. It had taken me three months to reserve the window table. I wanted one quiet evening with Grant—proof that our ten years were still worth celebrating.
Then Grant opened the front door, and Vanessa Hale walked in behind him.
She wore a pale cashmere coat and pulled a cream suitcase across the entryway rug. Its wet wheels left two dark tracks beneath our wedding portrait.
Grant placed her suitcase outside the guest room.
"Vanessa has been having episodes of memory loss," he said. "She's undergoing neurological testing. She'll be staying here for a few days."
Vanessa removed a medical folder from her purse. A neurology appointment sheet showed through the clear cover, but her eyes moved past me to the anniversary menu.
"I don't want to interfere," she said. "I'm afraid I'll wake up one day and forget my entire youth."
Grant pulled out a chair for her. I remained standing.
Vanessa unfolded a worn piece of paper. Ten items were written across it: their first real date, senior prom, the proposal dinner, a honeymoon, their first Christmas.
"They're the things we never got to have," she said. "I want to fill in the missing pieces before my results come back."
Grant ran his thumb over one crease.
"You're planning to do all of this with her?" I asked.
"It isn't dating. I'm helping an old friend say goodbye to the past."
"During the ten days before our tenth anniversary?"
The kitchen went quiet. A cube of ice dropped inside the refrigerator, and Vanessa flinched.
Grant immediately rested a hand on the back of her chair.
"You've had me for ten years, Natalie. She only needs ten days."
He said it calmly, as if he were dividing something that belonged to him alone.
Half an hour earlier, I had been choosing white roses and a chocolate hazelnut cake. Now his first love was sitting in my kitchen, asking him to recreate the life they had missed—and he believed ten years of marriage meant I had already received enough.
Vanessa's sleeve brushed the anniversary confirmation on the island.
"Is this for your dinner?" She studied the gold lettering. "It's beautiful."
Our names were printed in the corner.
Grant and Natalie Bennett. Ten Years.
Grant recognized the restaurant.
"This is where I promised to take Vanessa when we were younger."
He picked up the confirmation and searched for the reservation number.
"Our dinner is in ten days," I said.
"I know."
He called the restaurant in front of me and asked whether a table was available that evening. While he waited, two fingers covered my name on the confirmation card.
Less than a minute later, the manager returned. A cancellation had opened our preferred window table at eight.
"Move the reservation to tonight," Grant said. "Keep the deposit and the custom menu."
I stared at him.
"That is our tenth-anniversary dinner."
Grant raised one hand, silencing me while the manager explained that the names printed on the menu could not be changed on such short notice.
"That's fine," Grant said, looking at Vanessa. "Use the original menus."
The new confirmation reached his phone seconds later. Our reservation for ten days from now had been canceled.
The deposit I had paid, the table I had chosen, the white roses, and the menu bearing my name would all be used that night.
Vanessa hesitated at exactly the right moment.
"Grant, we can go somewhere else. This was supposed to be your anniversary dinner with Natalie."
"It's only a reservation. I'll arrange something else for her."
Her.
Not my wife. Not Natalie. Just the person outside their ten-day plan who could be rescheduled.
Grant folded the original confirmation and slipped it into his suit pocket. Then he helped Vanessa into her coat and picked up his keys.
Her suitcase remained outside the guest room. She did not ask whether she could return after dinner.
She already knew there would be a place waiting for her.
At the door, Grant looked back at me.
"We'll use this reservation tonight. I'll reschedule our anniversary."
The door closed between us.
Cold air moved through the entryway. One white rose petal fell onto the unfinished menu and covered my name.
I left it there.