Chapter 2

After I left the hospital, I began packing a little of my life each day.

One afternoon, while gathering documents, I knocked a folder off Bryce's desk.

Papers scattered across the floor.

I knelt to pick them up, and that was when I saw the photograph.

It was old, its corners creased as if someone had taken it out and held it countless times.

Bryce and Mara were much younger in the picture, probably still in college.

His arm was around her shoulders, and she was beaming at the camera.

On the back, in Bryce's handwriting, were six words.

"She is the girl of my dreams."

My breath stopped.

Not "she was."

There was no past tense.

As if she still was.

As if she always had been.

Memories came rushing back without warning, sharp and merciless.

There had been a night when I drove through the rain to pick Bryce up from a lab gathering.

I watched him walk toward the car with his umbrella held completely over Mara. Half of his own shirt was soaked, but not a drop touched her.

"She's on our way," he said as he slid into the passenger seat. "We'll drop her off first."

Mara sat in the back and talked the entire drive.

"Nadine, that chicken pesto panini you make is incredible. You have to teach me sometime."

My body went rigid.

I packed Bryce's lunch every day. That morning, I had put a chicken pesto panini in his lunchbox.

How had she tasted it?

Bryce saw my expression and rushed to explain.

"Someone in Mara's family is in the hospital. She's been so busy she hasn't had time to eat, so I gave her my lunch."

I believed him.

Then there was the time Mara's apartment flooded.

Bryce brought her home without asking me.

"Nadine, Mara's staying with us for a few days. Can you get the guest room ready?"

So I cooked for three every day.

Every night, I ground the coffee beans she would use the next morning.

I even let them take my car so they could commute together.

I had been such a fool.

I wiped my face. My fingertips came away wet, and I did not even know when I had started crying.

I kept searching through his files.

Bank statements. Credit card receipts.

There was a hotel charge from three months earlier, dated the same weekend he was supposedly attending an academic conference.

A dinner bill for two.

A charge from a luxury boutique.

A receipt for a handbag I had never seen.

The lock clicked.

Bryce walked in and tossed his coat onto the sofa.

He looked exhausted. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes.

"My stomach is killing me. Can you make me some noodles?"

I looked up from the papers spread across my lap.

He did not ask how I was feeling.

He did not mention the procedure at all.

During the entire week I had been recovering, he had sent me two messages. Both were about his experiments.

"I'm busy," I said. "The kitchen is right there. Make them yourself."

His head came up.

I had never spoken to him that way before.

"What is wrong with you?"

Without another word, I picked up my laptop, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door.

An hour later, the door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps came toward me.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing both hands to my still-aching abdomen.

"I know I wasn't there during your procedure," he murmured into my hair. "The timing was terrible. But you know what it was like. My advisor was there, everyone from the lab was there, and I couldn't just walk out."

I said nothing.

"Once this project is over, I'll make it up to you. We'll go to Santa Fe, just the two of us. The trip we've always talked about."

His phone rang.

He let go of me at once.

One look at the screen, and he answered without hesitation.

"Mara? What's wrong?"

She said something on the other end.

His jaw tightened.

"Don't panic. Stay where you are. I'm coming right now."

He grabbed his coat and snatched the car keys from the hook.

I stepped in front of the door.

"I don't care where you're going, but leave the car. I have a follow-up appointment tomorrow. I need my car to get to the hospital."

"Nadine, don't be unreasonable."

He pushed past me and headed out.

"Mara has a 104-degree fever. I need to take her to the ER. This is not the time for you to be jealous."

"Jealous?"

The word scraped out of my throat.

"Bryce, I lost our baby seven days ago. You haven't asked me how I feel once. I have a follow-up tomorrow, and you're still taking the car I paid for to go pick her up?"

"I don't have time to argue about this."

He was already out the door.

I stood in the empty hallway and listened to his footsteps disappear down the stairs.

Then I made my decision.

I was done.

That night, I called my boss.

"Ms. Ralston? I'll take the position in Denver."

"You're sure?" Surprise filled her voice. "Nadine, that's a thousand miles away, and it requires at least a three-year commitment."

"I know."

"What about Bryce?"

"What does he have to do with me anymore?"

There was a pause on the other end.

Then she said, "Good for you. You leave in three days."

I ended the call and opened my laptop.

The divorce papers were ready.

All they needed was Bryce's signature.

In three days, I would be gone.

And Bryce Hensley would never see me again.