Chapter 2

Yet he had plenty of time to send Chloe over to scrub his floors.

Chloe finished cleaning the litter box.

As she walked back from the balcony carrying the dirty bag, I pointed my chin toward the front door.

"Trash bin is right by the shoe rack. Don't leave it in the hallway."

Her shoulders tensed visibly.

She set the bag by the door and walked straight into the bathroom to get the mop.

She didn't have to look. She pushed open the door and grabbed it without a second of hesitation.

My heart turned to ice.

She knew this apartment better than I did.

Where the bathroom was. Where the mop was kept. Where he stored extra litter and trash bags.

She could navigate this place blindfolded.

By the entryway shoe rack, two pairs of women's house slippers sat side by side.

One pair was blush pink—mine.

The other was white plush fleece. The soles were visibly worn, meaning they had been used dozens of times.

I shifted my gaze back to Chloe as she mopped the living room.

She moved with practiced efficiency: bending down, pushing the mop, rinsing it in the bucket, wiping the baseboards.

She didn't look like a visiting coworker.

She looked like the second woman living here.

A memory suddenly flashed in my mind.

Three months ago, I brought up moving in together.

My apartment lease was ending, and renewing it required a steep rent hike and another deposit.

I figured since I spent so much time at his place anyway, moving in together would save us money.

Dylan had sat me down and given me a deeply solemn speech.

"Evelyn, moving in together right now wouldn't be fair to you. If we ever broke up, you'd be the one getting hurt and uprooting your life. I want to protect you."

I had been so touched.

I thought he was being responsible, looking out for my best interests.

Looking back now, it was pure bullshit.

He wasn't protecting me.

He was protecting his setup.

He already had a convenient side chick coming and going freely. If his official girlfriend moved in, the whole charade would fall apart.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, forcing the fury down.

No rush.

Since I was already here, nobody was getting off easy today.

Chloe finished mopping, took a step back to inspect her work, and pulled out her phone to snap a photo.

She found a flattering angle that captured the entire sunlit, spotless living room.

She edited the lighting and sent it off.

Less than two minutes later, her phone pinged with an incoming voice note.

When she tapped to play it, she clearly forgot to turn her volume down.

Dylan’s voice blasted through the speaker, crisp and clear:

"Thanks so much, Chloe! The place looks amazing. Unlike someone I know, who only ever lies on the couch scrolling through her phone without lifting a single finger."