Chapter 1
The night my business trip ended early, I picked up a carton of my boyfriend's favorite lobster mac & cheese.
Riding the elevator up to our apartment, my best friend was still tearing into him over text.
Zoe Miller: [Julian is a smooth talker. Don't let him play you。]
I texted back: [I won't. He says I'm the only one for him.]
She fired off a barrage of voice notes, sounding angry enough to reach right through the screen. "And you actually believe him?
"Mia, what is going on in that head of yours?"
Smiling, I shoved the phone into my pocket.
Julian Sinclair really did love to sweet-talk me.
Whenever my stomach acted up, he drived out in the middle of the night for medicine.
Because I hated the dark, he never even turned off the bathroom light.
Even Zoe said he treated me like a skittish stray kitten he was terrified of losing.
But when I pushed open our front door, an extra pair of women's shoes sat in the entryway.
Familiar silver glitter dusted the stilettos.
The bedroom door was cracked open.
Julian's voice drifted out, low and husky. "Don't bite. I have to meet Mia's parents tomorrow."
A woman laughed, her tone teasing. "Are you actually scared she'll find out?"
"She's clueless," Julian replied. "Even if I told her you were terrible, she'd still make excuses for you."
The carton of lobster mac & cheese slipped from my hands and crashed onto the floor.
Through the narrow gap in the door, my best friend looked up and met my eyes.
*****
When the food hit the ground, the creamy sauce splattered against my ankles.
The cracked plastic container lay crooked, noodles spilling out, rich cheese mashed into the white floor grout.
My phone was still vibrating in my pocket.
Zoe's voice message was still lighting up the screen.
"Mia, are you home yet?"
"Don't get all lovey-dovey with Julian the second you walk in. Make him look at your dark circles first."
"If he drops the ball meeting your folks tomorrow, I will personally break his legs."
Another sound came from the bedroom.
It sounded like a glass bumping against a nightstand.
Someone pushed against the door from the inside.
Zoe's face vanished behind the narrowing gap.
A brief, chaotic scramble followed.
I heard her hushed, frantic whisper. "Don't move."
Julian let out a low chuckle. "Weren't you acting tough a second ago?"
"Shut up," Zoe snapped.
Her voice was tight, sounding like she had just kicked him. "If Mia knew you acted like this, we'd see if she still defended you."
Julian's voice dropped lower. "She won't find out."
"You're that sure?" Zoe asked.
"She told me just yesterday that even though Zoe Miller has a sharp tongue, she loves her the most."
The bedroom went dead silent for a beat.
When Zoe finally spoke again, her voice softened. "I do love her."
Julian seemed to lean closer, his voice muffled by the wood. "Then why are you here?"
Zoe gave a cynical laugh. "Julian, you are a real piece of work."
He didn't deny it. He just replied, "Aren't you exactly the same?"
The very next second, the sharp crash of a glass shattering on the floor rang out.
Through the gap in the door, Zoe looked up and saw me.
The smirk hadn't fully faded from her face before her eyes shifted in pure panic.
In a split second, she shoved the door shut.
"Damn it, Julian! Why would you leave a glass right on the edge? You got water all over me," Zoe shouted.
She spoke incredibly fast.
She sounded desperate, as if keeping the conversation moving would somehow erase the words they had just exchanged.
Julian chimed in. "Mimi?"
The bedroom door swung open.
When he walked out, his shirt was already buttoned.
However, he had messed up the top button, leaving his collar sitting unevenly against his neck.
The moment he saw me, the color drained from his face.
He recovered quickly and closed the distance between us.
"You're back early?" he asked.
His gaze dropped to the ruined food on the floor, then immediately snapped to my hands. "Did you burn yourself?"
I stared down at the mess of pasta.
I had waited in line for forty minutes for that.
The cashier had asked if I wanted to add hot sauce, but I remembered Julian hated spicy food, so I shook my head.
When I walked out of the restaurant, Zoe was still texting me.
Zoe: [Mia, you are unbelievable. He mentions a craving, and you take a massive detour in the middle of the night just to get it. No one simps harder than you.]
I had texted her back. [He drove out at midnight to get me stomach meds last time.]
Zoe instantly fired back: [A box of pills is seven bucks. You stood in the freezing cold for forty minutes for a bowl of pasta. Even a golden retriever would judge you for that math.]
I was standing in the freezing wind right then, my hands numb from the cold, but I was smiling so hard.
Julian crouched down, reaching out to wipe my ankles.
I took a half-step back.
His hand hovered in midair. "Mimi?"
I kept my eyes on the floor. "I dropped your food," I whispered.
Julian let out a visible breath, acting as if he had finally found a safe script to follow.
"It's fine. I'll buy another one," he said.
He stood up, cupping my cheek with his warm palm. "Don't worry about the food. Let me see your hands."
Zoe emerged from the bedroom then.
She wore Julian's oversized black jacket, her hair tied in a loose bun. Right behind her ear, a speck of silver glitter caught the light.
I knew that glitter all too well.
Zoe was a photographer who spent a lot of time shooting in studios.
When she came over last week, her hands and cuticles were covered in that sparkly dust, and it had rubbed off on my scarf.
She had teased me. "Stop rubbing at it, you dork. Be grateful I'm leaving some star dust on you."
Now, that same glitter was dusted behind her ear. And on the heel of those stilettos by the front door.