PROLOGUE
He is going to break us here. In what should have been my favorite place.
How dare you.
At eighteen years old, I fell in love with this stone-hewn balcony, walking hand-in-hand with my husband. We followed the realtor as stars burst in our eyes. I imagined the slow mornings we would sip coffee together here, the evenings we’d watch the sun fall beyond the trees, the nights he would hold me in his arms as we swayed to soft music, and the midnights where he would lead our passionate kisses inside, away from the prying eyes of the neighbors.
At first sight, I deemed the place worthy of a love asperfectas ours.
That seems so foolish now, so juvenile and stupid.
I leaned in and whispered,“This is the one.”
He smiled and squeezed my hand.
And he’s squeezing my hand right now.
But my fingers feel cold and this special place is a constant affront to my peace. I hate it here. And I hate him—for the regret I see welling in his eyes, for how my body instinctively braces for impact, for the fear that’s already choking me, and for the dam of betrayals quivering between us.
“Hollie,” he swallows, searching for words. “I’m trying to find a way to say this to you.”
I don’t move—I can’t move. My will to fight is gone. If my lungs ever fill with oxygen again, it will be a miracle. For years, my existence has been about him alone.
My inhales, my exhales, every beat of my heart.
For him.
His breath shakes, bubbling up from his chest. At least he has the decency to pretend I mean something to him. My vision swims.
Please—please don’t say it.
I’ll have nothing left, nowhere to go. I want to beg him, but my lips only tremble.
His voice rasps. “There’s someone else, Hollie.”
I hang onto his every breath like each one might be the last sound I hear.
Surely, this is only a nightmare.
But he continues, the quake in his voice intensifying. “I—I didn’t mean for her to happen. She just did.”
I scarcely recognize my own voice. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“Really?” He gives a breathy laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “It seemed like only a matter of time to me.”
I blink, clearing the tears from my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve talked about this.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe I forgot. “We aren’t happy together. We haven’t been happy for years.”
Hot nausea leaps up my throat, and anger bites my tongue. I yank my hand away. “No,youweren’t happy. I’ve always been here.”
He tips his head, disappointed in me. “I knew you’d see it that way.”
“What other way is there to see it?”
“With the truth, maybe?” His voice rises in pitch.
I shake my head, not wanting to argue with him. He will never see things my way, and it’s pointless to try and make him. I demand, “Who?”
