Chapter 2

2.

That afternoon, I slapped my resignation letter down on my agent Rachel’s desk.

She took off her glasses and stared at me like I was an alien. “Chloe, are you sure about this?”

“We watched you build Liam up from that crappy dive bar in Echo Park to…” She pointed to the framed photo on her wall of Liam winning a Grammy. “...this. Why now?”

Why now? Maybe because I finally realized I’d wasted five years on a man-child, a sunk cost I couldn't get back.

I remember the day Liam’s first single played on KROQ. It was my birthday. We were crammed into our little apartment in Silver Lake where the heat barely worked. He cooked a cheap pot of spaghetti, and we sat on the floor, drinking ten-dollar-for-three-bottles wine from Trader Joe’s out of coffee mugs.

He held me so tight back then, his voice thick with emotion. “When I make it, Chloe… I’m going to give you a wedding in Napa Valley. I’ll let the whole world know you’re mine.”

I snapped out of the memory and shrugged at Rachel. “This industry is exhausting, Rachel. I need a change.”

Rachel stared at me for a long moment before sighing and signing the letter. “Chloe, you’re the only one who keeps this whole circus running. Take care of yourself.”

I went back to my desk to pack up my things. Five years of my life: notebooks, headphones, a custom mug that read “World’s Best Tour Manager.” It felt like a sick joke now.

My phone vibrated. An Instagram notification: Liam Thorne mentioned you in his story.

He had reposted one of Scarlett’s photoshoots with the caption: [Lookin’ stunning as always, babe. ??]

The comments were a flood of “perfect couple” and “when’s the official announcement?”

Before, things like this would have kept me up all night. I would have confronted him. In the beginning, he’d offer a lame excuse: “Baby, it’s just for PR.” Later, it turned into angry defensiveness: “God, Chloe, you’re being ridiculous. I need you to trust me.” Then he’d slam the door and leave.

He always counted on me not being able to leave him.

I let out a cold laugh and unfollowed him.

Suddenly, a couple of interns shrieked down the hall.

“Oh my God! Liam’s here! With Scarlett!”

“Liam and Scarlett are so real! They’re perfect together!”

I couldn’t help but look up. Scarlett was clinging to Liam’s arm, wearing a floral Reformation dress. The smile on her face was sweet, but her eyes scanned the room like a radar. Her hand rested possessively on his waist, a perfectly intimate pose―just enough for a passing intern to snap the perfect gossip photo.

She whispered something in his ear and giggled, pressing herself against him. They disappeared into the break room and locked the door.

Liam walked right past me without a single glance in my direction, as if I were just another piece of office furniture.

I didn't care. I taped up the last box with a clean, sharp sound.

Liam Thorne, this toxic relationship is officially a wrap.