Chapter 1

On our wedding night, still wearing the suit I hadn't had a chance to change out of, I stood at the door of our newlywed home and waited three hours for my wife.

She said she wasn't feeling well and wouldn't let me touch her.

But the next second, I watched with my own eyes as she threw on a coat, rushed out into the night, and got into her male best friend's car.

I sat alone until dawn. I didn't even open the wedding favors.

When morning came, I printed out the divorce papers and even booked an appointment at the county clerk's office.

I thought I was calm enough.

Until I pushed the papers in front of her. Her face went white, and she said only one thing.

Vivian Sutton and I met through a setup.

The first time I saw her was at an old barbecue joint.

She wore a light gray knit sweater, her hair tied low. She spoke softly, but her eyes were very clear.

The friend who set us up praised her as steady and sensible, with a respectable job and a decent family.

None of that boilerplate meant much to me.

What really made me remember her was that a waitress accidentally knocked over a bowl of hot soup that day, and it splashed onto the back of her hand.

The girl burst into tears right there, apologizing over and over.

Vivian's face had gone pale from the pain, but she still pulled out a napkin and handed it to the girl first. "It's fine. Don't panic. Just bring me some cold water."

In that moment, I thought she was soft-hearted, and that she knew how to handle herself.

We dated for half a year after that. It was nothing dramatic, but everything went smoothly.

She wasn't clingy, didn't make scenes, didn't check up on me.

When I worked late, she brought dinner down to my building.

When my mom was in the hospital, Vivian stayed with her three nights in a row. Even the nurse's aide praised how attentive she was.

The only thing that bothered me was the man who was always around her, a guy named Cole Harrington.

She said he was a friend she'd grown up with. They'd known each other for over twenty years.

She called him Cole.

Cole called her Viv.

The first time I met Cole was three weeks after Vivian and I made things official.

I'd gone to pick her up from work that day. The moment I reached her office building, I saw a tall, lanky man carrying her bag for her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder.

When I walked over, Vivian immediately stepped aside.

She introduced him a little awkwardly. "This is Cole."

Cole looked me up and down, his smile faint. "So you're the guy."

The words sounded harmless, but the tone was off.

It wasn't a greeting. It was an inspection.

I didn't react at the time. I just held out my hand. "Hi, I'm Ethan Sinclair."

He didn't take it right away. Two seconds passed before he reached out, saying, "Viv's taste isn't bad."

I smiled, but anger was already rising in me.

On the way back, I asked Vivian, "Is it always like that with you two?"

"Like what?"

"His arm around your shoulders, carrying your bag, talking to me like he's running a background check."

Vivian was quiet for a while, then said in a low voice, "He's been like that since we were kids. No sense of boundaries, but he doesn't mean anything by it."

"You believe that?"

"I'll handle it."

She said she'd handle it.

But every time after that, I was the one who swallowed it.

When Cole got dumped, she went to keep him company.

When Cole got drunk, she went to pick him up.

When Cole fought with his new girlfriend, one phone call from him and Vivian would cancel our movie tickets.

Once, on my birthday, we'd just set the cake on the table when Cole shouted over the phone that he was at the edge of an overpass and couldn't go on living.

Vivian grabbed her coat and left.

I stopped her. "If he can't go on living, why does he always call you?"

Something flickered in her eyes. "He's emotionally unstable. I'm afraid something will happen."

"What about me? It's my birthday."

"I'll make it up to you when I get back."

She left anyway.

That night I cut the cake by myself. By the end, the frosting just tasted bitter.

It wasn't as if I'd never brought up breaking up.

I did, twice.

The first time, she said with red eyes that she'd keep her distance from Cole.

The second time, she held me and cried so hard she shook. It was the first time I'd seen her cry like that.

She said, "Ethan, give me a little more time. I'll take care of it for good."

She rarely begged me for anything.

That day, the moment she begged, I gave in again.

I thought once the wedding was over, everything would be different.

I'd overestimated myself, and her too.

On the day of the wedding, Cole came.

He wore a black suit and stood off at the very edge, a smile on his face but not a trace of joy in his eyes.

During the toasts, he blocked my way with a glass in his hand.

"Ethan, congratulations."

"Thanks."

He tipped his head back and drank, then looked at me. "Viv went through a lot growing up. If you don't treat her right, I won't let it go."

I looked right back at him. "She's my wife. I don't need you to remind me."

His mouth twitched. "Good."

My mom was standing right beside us, and her face darkened instantly.

Once he'd walked off, she lowered her voice. "Who is that man? Talking all snide like that."

I said, "Vivian's childhood friend."

My mom gave a cold laugh. "Since when does a childhood friend get to lecture the groom? You keep your eyes open."

I didn't answer.

The wedding kept me busy all day, and honestly, I didn't have time to think about it much.

Until that night, back in our newlywed home, when Vivian sat at the edge of the bed taking the ornaments out of her hair one by one, her face terribly pale.

I poured her a glass of warm water. "Tired?"

She nodded.

I went over and crouched in front of her, meaning to take off her heels for her.

But she suddenly pulled her feet back.

It was a small movement, but I still saw it.

I looked up. "What's wrong?"

Her lips moved. "Ethan, tonight... I can't."

I froze for a second.

"Don't read into it. I'm just not feeling well."

"Where? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No, I just need some rest."

She didn't look at me the whole time she spoke.

That uneasy feeling rose up in me again.

On my wedding night, my wife wouldn't let me touch her. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.

But she really did look unwell, and I wasn't going to push her at a time like this.

I got up, turned the thermostat up a couple of degrees, and went to the bathroom to run hot water.

I'd just finished filling the tub when her phone rang.

The instant the screen lit up, I saw the name on it.

Cole.

Vivian practically lunged at the phone to shut it off.

That lunge stung worse than any explanation could have.

I stood where I was and looked at her. "Answer it."

She didn't move.

The phone went quiet for a few seconds, then started buzzing frantically again.

Once, twice, three times.

Like it was out for blood.

Vivian's fingers trembled, but in the end she answered.

I didn't know what was said on the other end, but her face changed instantly.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Cole, put the knife down first."

"I'm coming over right now."

My head roared.

She hung up, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door.

I caught her wrist. "Where are you going?"

"Cole's drunk. He's over in the old part of town, saying he's going to slit his wrists."

"So?"

"I have to go."

"Tonight is our wedding night."