Chapter 1

On Christmas Eve, I flew halfway across the world to surprise my fiancé.

And caught him kissing another girl under our Christmas tree.

All afternoon at work, the girls were losing their minds over deliveries. Roses everywhere. Little Tiffany boxes. Velvet pouches with red ribbons. The whole floor smelled like a Bath & Body Works.

Marissa, my team lead, plopped down on my desk and grinned at me.

"Willow. Your man is an art professor. In Paris. The bar he's gonna set today? Criminal."

She wasn't wrong.

Two Christmases ago, Julian sent me 999 burgundy roses. Last year? A framed I love you spelled out in pink diamonds. Stupid amounts of pink diamonds.

When it came to showing off, Julian Carter didn't let me lose. Ever.

But this year?

My phone was dead silent. All day. Nothing.

I started spiraling. Something happened to him. Something has to be wrong. I burned every vacation day I had, threw a flight on my credit card, and flew halfway across the world through a snowstorm.

I got to his building in Paris right as the snow started coming down hard. And there, under the giant Christmas tree out front—gold lights, red ribbons, the whole Hallmark thing—

Julian was kissing another girl.

I just… stopped. Right there on the sidewalk.

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, laughing into her hair, coaxing her to write a wish on one of the ribbons hanging off the branches.

"Baby. Tomorrow's Christmas."

"Santa grants every wish on this tree. So go ahead. Tell him."

She looked up at him with these big shiny doe eyes and curled her arms around his neck.

"Every wish? You swear?"

Julian winked. His hand slid down and patted her butt.

"Swear."

It wasn't even the kiss. It was the patting her butt. That's what gutted me.

I scrambled behind a hedge like some kind of stalker, watching my own fiancé through a wall of falling snow.

The tears came before I even understood they were coming.

Eight years long-distance. This was the first time I'd ever shown up without telling him.

She pouted and pretended to punch his chest. "Put me down."

He didn't. One hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck, pulling her down into another kiss.

My fingers were shaking so bad I could barely unlock my phone. Breathe. Just breathe.

Maybe—maybe—if he lied. If he said she was nobody. A drunk mistake. A one-night thing. I could choke it down. I could pretend.

I could still believe in us.

I typed: Babe, who are you with rn?

A phone chimed somewhere in the snow. Close. Close enough I heard it over the wind.

She huffed and turned her face. "Your phone's been blowing up all night. Which slut is it this time?"

Julian threw up three fingers like a Boy Scout. "Chloe. Baby. I swear on my life. There's no one else."

"I dumped my fiancée for you. I stayed in Paris six years just to be with you."

Eight years.

Julian and I had been together eight years.

He'd been with her for six of them.

This laugh just tore out of my throat. Wet. Ugly. My knees folded and I sat down right there in the dirty snow.

My phone buzzed. Marissa.

landed safe babe??

don't go TOO crazy with that man of yours, come back to us in one piece okay?

That made me cry harder.

The girls at the office had picked my outfit for me. They'd chipped in on matching couple bracelets, wrapped them in silver paper, the whole thing. We'd all decided together. Julian was going to lose his mind when he saw me.

The voices behind me got quieter. I peeked out from the hedge.

She'd jumped onto his back, arms locked around his neck, giggling like a kid.

"Carry me! Practice! You're gonna have to do this on our wedding day!"

Wedding day.

Julian had thought about marrying her.

Then what was I? What were our eight years? The ring he promised me, what the hell was that?

I checked into the hotel across the street. The one with a perfect view of his bedroom window.

All I had to do was pull the curtains back and I had a front-row seat to their happy little life.

A couple hours of digging gave me a name. Chloe Winters. His grad student.

On campus, they played strangers. Off campus, they lived together. They were in love.

Universities don't actually punish professor-student stuff. They look the other way.

But cheating on your fiancée. With your own student.

That kind of thing? That ends a man.