Chapter 1

1.

The day I broke up with Liam Carter, he was fixing Chloe Vance’s computer.

I placed my apartment key on the console table in the entryway.

He didn't even look up.

"Just eat the Chinese takeout on the table. Chloe needs this presentation ASAP."

I glanced at the greasy paper box leaking sauce, the General Tso's chicken he'd grabbed from the 24-hour place on the corner.

Meanwhile, he was cradling Chloe’s brand-new MacBook Pro, the one she’d brought back from Europe, like a newborn baby.

"Liam, let's break up."

I said it calmly.

His fingers paused on the keyboard, and then he scoffed.

"Eva, don't be dramatic. It's just a computer. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

I didn't say another word.

I just grabbed my suitcase, which was already packed, and walked out the door.

The rain in New York was heavy that night.

He didn't follow me.

He didn't even send me a text.

I found out later that he stayed at Chloe's apartment until three in the morning.

And me? I waited two hours for an Uber in a torrential downpour, my fever spiking to 102 degrees Fahrenheit.

...

The wheels of my suitcase hummed a dull tune against the wet asphalt.

Icy rain trickled down the back of my neck from the edge of my umbrella.

I didn't call a car right away.

I just wanted to see if the man who once swore he’d drive across all of Brooklyn to pick me up, no matter how late, would push open that door for me now.

The old apartment building behind me was lit up.

A warm, yellow light glowed from the fifth-floor window on the left. Our home for two years.

I saw a figure move past the window. It was Liam.

He seemed to be hunched over a desk, working quickly.

Chloe was probably sitting right beside him, her chin in her hand, praising him for being so smart and capable in that sweet Southern accent of hers.

It was a scene that had played out countless times over the past six months.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I thought it was him.

It was a notification from DoorDash, asking me to rate my last order.

The traffic light at the corner changed colors with a mechanical click.

I stood in a puddle, watching the neon lights of Times Square blur in the distance.

Liam was a persistent man, I'll give him that.

When we were starting out together at an ad agency on Madison Avenue, we’d pull all-nighters for a pitch, and he’d give me the last Red Bull in the office.

"Eva, once I make enough money, I'll give you a life where you can walk down Fifth Avenue and buy anything you want."

Back then, his shirt collar was smudged with dirt, but his eyes were impossibly bright.

He’d saved up some money now.

He was the creative group head.

But the life he promised now had Chloe Vance squeezed into it.

Chloe was his college classmate, "the one that got away," as he called her. She had just moved back from London.

All she had to do was frown a little, and Liam would drop me, burning up with a fever, to go help her change a lightbulb.

"She's all alone in New York, it's not easy for her."

That was his favorite line.

And what about me?

I was alone, too.

The rain fell harder, blurring my vision completely.

I finally hailed a yellow cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked in a thick Bronx accent.

I opened my mouth, but I realized I didn't have anywhere to go.

My family was all the way in California.

In this East Coast city, the only thing tying me down was the key I had just left on that console table.

"Just drive. Find a clean motel,"

I said softly.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, said nothing, and hit the gas.

I leaned against the window, watching the city streak past.

It was a strange feeling.

There was no hysteria, no soul-crushing heartbreak.

Just a vast, hollow exhaustion.

It felt like I had been running a three-year marathon, and right before the finish line, I just decided to stop.

My phone buzzed again.

This time, it was Liam.

"Eva, are you done with your tantrum? Where did you put the key? Chloe's backup hard drive is in the drawer, and I can't find it."

I looked at the text and laughed bitterly.

He hadn't even noticed that I had taken all of my clothes and makeup.

All he cared about was that damn hard drive.

My fingers moved, and I blocked his number.

The moment I did, I could breathe again.

Turns out, cutting someone out of your life only takes a second.