Chapter 2

Everyone around me said I was the luckiest woman alive, marrying a man like Bennett. But only I knew the truth. This marriage was a one-woman show, and I was performing for an empty theater.

He treated me like a polite acquaintance. There was never a flicker of warmth between us. Even when we had to play the part of a real couple, I could always feel the wall he kept firmly in place.

The only time he ever wrapped his arm around my waist and called me "Vee" was when the Sinclair family was watching.

The bathroom water shut off. Bennett walked out with a towel slung low on his hips, water still trailing down the sharp lines of his jaw before disappearing over the muscles of his stomach.

He dried his hair as he walked to the bed, picked up his phone, and unlocked it. The screen lit up.

I caught a glimpse of a new message popping up in his pinned chats. The name at the top read Meredith.

[Benny, did you make it home okay? Thank you so much for spending my birthday with me and for the bracelet. It's absolutely gorgeous. I adore it! Get some rest. Sweet dreams.]

My breath caught in my throat.

Meredith Warren was the girl Bennett had protected like she was made of glass for ten years. She was the one he always called his lifesaver, his so-called distant cousin.

I'd seen Meredith plenty of times. I saw her at Sinclair family dinners. I saw her standing outside Bennett's office downtown.

She had those big, dewy eyes and a voice that was always soft and sweet. She wore white sundresses constantly and carried herself like an angel.

Every time she saw me, she'd chirp my name in that syrupy tone, but her eyes always flickered with something else, a flash of jealousy mixed with pride that she couldn't quite hide.

Bennett told me once that ten years ago, he nearly drowned during a senior trip to a lake house upstate. Meredith had risked her own life to pull him out, and she'd been sickly ever since.

He said he would spend his whole life protecting her and repaying that debt.

Every time those words left his mouth, it felt like someone was pouring acid straight into my heart. The pain was so sharp my bones ached.

Because I knew the truth. Ten years ago, in that freezing, dark lake, the person who jumped in and dragged him to safety wasn't Meredith. It was me.

Bennett caught me looking at his screen. He tapped out a quick reply, then set the phone face down on the nightstand. He glanced up at me, and there was a flicker of impatience in his voice. "What?"

I dug my nails into my palms and forced the words out. "Who's texting you this late?"

"Meredith," he said, barely looking at me. His voice stayed flat and careless. "She started as my assistant at the office. Something came up with a project today, so she's giving me a heads up."

It was another lie. At the family dinner last week, he'd told everyone that Meredith was still overseas finishing her master's degree in art history and wouldn't be back until next year.

What kind of assistant would get her boss to spend his wedding anniversary celebrating her birthday?

What kind of assistant would have her boss pin her chat and send her sweet goodnight messages?

What kind of assistant could make him break a rule he'd held onto for a decade, letting him come home reeking of peach, the one scent his own wife could never even be near?

I looked into his cold, unreadable eyes, and my best friend's voice echoed in my head. She'd said it to me the night before the wedding. "Vee, Bennett doesn't love you.

"He married you because you're gentle and obedient, and you never cause any trouble. You're good at keeping Leon happy. Don't let yourself fall too hard for him.

What did I tell her back then? I said it was okay. I had a whole lifetime to make him love me.

Now I knew the truth. If ten years couldn't warm his heart, a lifetime was nothing more than a foolish dream.

I didn't say any of it out loud. I lowered my head and spoke quietly. "Nothing. It's late, and you seem tired."

His shoulders relaxed a little. He reached out and ruffled my hair. It was a rare, gentle touch, but it felt as light as air, never quite reaching me.

"Get some rest," he said. "I'm leaving for a business trip in the morning. I'll be gone for about a week. Don't worry about packing my things."

With that, he turned his back to me and lay down. Within minutes, his breathing slowed and steadied. He was asleep.

I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

Beside me lay the man I'd loved for an entire decade, but it felt like an ocean stretched between us, one I would never be able to cross, no matter how far I swam.

When the morning light crept into the room, I watched him get up, wash his face, and get dressed, all without a single word to me. He grabbed his briefcase and walked out without looking back.

The second the front door clicked shut, my legs gave out. I sank to the cold floor, buried my face in my hands, and cried without making a sound.