Chapter 2

2.

The next morning, when Garrett came downstairs for breakfast, I was spreading butter on my toast.

He sat down and scrolled through his phone without looking at me.

"I picked up a friend last night," he said.

"Okay."

"You're not going to ask who it was?"

I took a bite of my toast.

"It was Sylvia. You know her," he said, finally setting his phone down to look at me. "She just got back from abroad and isn't in good health. I couldn't just leave her."

I just said okay again.

He suddenly looked annoyed. "That's your only reaction?"

"What kind of reaction were you hoping for?"

He dropped his fork, picked up his coffee, and walked away.

Before he could leave the house, I called out to him.

He turned back at the entryway, his brow furrowed.

I pulled a small velvet box from my pocket and opened it. Inside were two bracelets. They were silver, each engraved with the initials of our names. I had them custom-made three months ago.

"Happy third anniversary," I said.

He froze for a second. Clearly, he had forgotten.

"I'll make it up to you next time," he said, taking the box and tossing it carelessly onto the entryway console. "I'm in a rush."

I watched him put on his shoes, open the door, and walk out. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud.

My anniversary gift hadn't stayed in his hands for even five seconds.

I didn't chase after him.

I walked to the console, opened the box, and took the bracelets out. I tried them both on my wrist. They were beautiful. They would have looked great on him, too.

I held them up to the light to check the engravings. His said G.J.G., and mine said S.N.

When I went to the jeweler three months ago, he asked me, "Are these wedding bands?"

I told him no, they were bracelets.

He smiled and said, "Bracelets are nice. Young people like these styles nowadays."

I didn't tell him that we never had wedding rings. I had mentioned it once, but Garrett said he was too busy.

I closed the box and put it back in the drawer.

My phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered, and a soft, feminine voice spoke: "Is this Sienna? It's Sylvia. Garrett mentioned you so many times last night. I'd love to take you to lunch."

Her voice was lovely. It was like cotton candy―sweet, soft, and hard to refuse.

I said yes.