Chapter 1

When my husband took his first love by the hand and led her onto the stage, I was wearing the white dress I'd worn the day we got married, waiting for him to call my name.

"This song is for the person who made me believe in love again."

Aiden lowered his head and kissed Selena.

I stood in the wings, clutching the pass he'd given me.

It read: Family.

Three hours earlier, he'd handed it to me himself and told me I wouldn't have to work tonight.

"Wear that white dress."

"Which one?"

"The one you wore when you married me."

I asked if he was finally ready.

He stroked my hair.

"Tonight, I'll give you the answer you've been waiting for."

It was our third wedding anniversary.

I'd spent ages in front of the mirror, struggling to pull up the zipper at the back of the dress.

I'd slipped the ring off the necklace where I kept it hidden and put it back on my finger.

Now, on the big screen, Selena lifted their joined hands.

The crowd screamed.

Aiden began to sing.

At the first line, my fingers clenched.

I'd written that song on our first night as husband and wife.

Back then, his gig had been canceled, and his credit card was almost maxed out.

We hadn't had a honeymoon, just one takeout meal we'd shared on the kitchen floor.

He'd put the biggest piece of chicken in my bowl and promised he'd make it up to me someday.

I'd told him all I needed was him.

Later, he'd turned those words into a hit.

But he'd never once said in an interview who he was singing them to.

"Could you step back, please?"

A crew member put out an arm to stop me.

A camera operator wheeled his equipment toward us, and I backed behind the curtain, my skirt brushing the cables on the floor.

"Aren't family members allowed to stand here?"

He glanced at my pass.

"Yes, but stay out of the shot."

Onstage, Selena rested her forehead against Aiden's shoulder.

I'd only ever rested mine there when no one could see.

She showed the audience the delicate chain around her wrist.

I recognized it.

Last week, he'd shown me a photo of that bracelet and asked if I liked it.

I'd said yes.

But when the gift box arrived at our house, he'd told me not to open it yet.

I'd thought he was saving it for an anniversary surprise and had even picked out earrings to match.

They brushed my cheeks, so cold it hurt.

When the song ended, the host asked if he was finally done keeping it a secret.

Aiden looked at Selena.

"She's waited long enough."

The applause drowned out whatever came next.

I looked down at my ring.

Three years.

He'd told me that going public would hurt his career, make people question my motives for writing songs for him, and take away what little privacy we had left.

I'd believed him.

So I never touched him on camera, never called him my husband in interviews, and even booked our anniversary dinner under his assistant's name.

So he did know how much it hurt a woman to be kept waiting.

"Leah?"

Someone beside me held out a coat.

"Aiden wants you to put this on. It's cold outside."

It was his assistant.

I didn't take it.

"When is he coming offstage?"

His assistant avoided my eyes.

"He still has photos to take."

I looked up.

Aiden was looking toward the wings.

Through the stage lights, he saw me—and the white dress I was wearing.

I took a step forward.

He gave a slight shake of his head.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

"Go home. Let's not talk about this here tonight."

Another message came right after it.

"Be good, okay?"

Onstage, Selena held his arm, waiting for the next photo.

I took off the family pass pinned to my chest.

The plastic edge dug into my fingers.

Even tonight, the place he'd made for me was out of the shot.