Chapter 1

On my birthday, my boyfriend Francis Henson told me he had a surprise for me.

I thought he was finally going to propose, so I showed up in my best dress, nervous and thrilled.

What I didn't expect was to walk into the restaurant and find the friend I'd cut off years ago sitting in my seat, holding a bouquet.

"Micky, long time no see. Happy birthday."

She winked at me, playful.

"The guy you picked this time is a big step up from the last ones."

I knew exactly why she was here. She'd come to take him from me.

I was about to have it out with her.

But Francis had already taken the flowers from her hands, and on top of that, slid a plate of peeled shrimp across to her.

Then he turned to me.

"Your coworkers took you out for afternoon tea, so you can't be hungry yet."

"Sylvie hasn't eaten. She goes first."

Sylvia Fisher smiled sweetly.

"Aw, thank you, Francis."

I smiled too.

If Sylvia liked collecting other people's garbage, then this time I'd hand it over myself.

01

I sat down across from the two of them.

Sylvia's hand froze on the way to her mouth, shrimp and all.

She bit her lower lip, as if she were nervous.

"Micky, you're not mad, are you?"

"I reached out to Francis ahead of time and said I wanted to see you. I really just wanted to celebrate your birthday."

"It's been a few years since we last saw each other. I've missed you so much."

I looked at her coldly and said nothing.

Francis couldn't hold back after all.

"Michelle Pruitt, Sylvie came all this way to celebrate your birthday, and you're still sitting there with a face like that?"

Every time he said "Sylvie," it came out warm and familiar.

I raised my eyes to him.

"How do you two know each other?"

He frowned slightly.

"Sylvie joined our department last month as an assistant. We added each other for work."

Francis's social media was full of me.

Every woman on his contact list knew he had a girlfriend who was more than a little possessive.

He'd never once complained about it.

But right now the look he gave me was impatient, weighing me, waiting for me to demand an answer.

I said nothing. I just lowered my head and started eating.

At the table, Sylvia and Francis chatted away happily.

You could tell this wasn't the first time they'd gotten together like this.

Now and then the conversation turned to me, and I gave a cool word or two in reply.

When the meal was nearly over,

Sylvia suddenly pulled something out from beside her and set it in front of me.

"Oh, right, this is the gift Francis picked out for you. See if you like it."

It was the necklace I'd mentioned to Francis once last month.

Right now it lay a little askew in its elegant jewelry box, the certificate of authenticity tossed in carelessly and half spilling out.

I picked it up, then slowly pulled a chestnut-brown strand of hair off the chain.

I glanced first at Sylvia and her chestnut waves, then turned to Francis beside me.

"You gave someone else my birthday gift to wear first?"

His expression didn't change at all.

"When Sylvie came with me to pick it out, she just tried it on for you."

I let out a soft laugh and set the gift aside.

Then I stood up.

"I'm full."

Sylvia quickly grabbed my hand.

"Micky, did I cross a line again without thinking? Let me apologize, okay?"

Looking at that earnest face of hers, I was a little surprised.

So three years hadn't left her completely unchanged after all.

At the very least, her acting had gotten a lot better.

She kept pleading.

"Don't go yet, okay? We haven't even had the birthday cake."

I looked down at her hand resting on my arm and coldly drew mine away.

"I can't eat another bite."

Sensing my mood, Francis stood.

He took my bag from my hand with practiced ease, but his tone was cold.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Sylvia trotted after us, the click of her heels sharp against the floor, her voice careful.

"Francis, could I catch a ride with you two? It's so late, and I'm a little scared to take a cab by myself."

Francis looked at me.

"Sylvie scares easily. We really should see her home."

I stopped walking and met his eyes in cold silence.

His patience finally ran out, his voice dropping.

"If you don't want to, then take a cab home yourself."

I took my bag back from him.

"Fine. Go ahead."

Without a moment's hesitation, I put out my hand.

A cab happened to pull up right in front of me, and the next second I got in without a second thought.

Behind me came Francis's voice.

"Michelle, can you not be so difficult for once—"

The door shut, and it all cut off at once.

I wiped away the single tear that had just fallen, and yet my heart felt lighter.

What's mine, no one can take from me.

And whatever can be taken, no matter how much I like it, isn't worth keeping.

Sylvia might be feeling pretty pleased with herself.

But my world has never once gone dark over the loss of a man.