Chapter 4

He caught my arm before I got to the door. The first thing he'd touched all night.

"Jo. It's one bracelet. So it came out of a drawer. You're going to make this the whole thing?"

I pulled my arm back. It came free too easily.

"It's not the bracelet."

"Then what is it? You made a scene in front of my mother and my sister over something that was never yours."

Vivian was already crying, both hands up like she was warding something off.

"I'm sorry, Joanna. Don't be mad at him. It's all my fault."

His mother put a hand on her shoulder and didn't look at me.

"Joanna. You've always had opinions about everything. It's exhausting."

"Good night, Ethan."

"You walk out that door, it's not postponed. It's done."

"Nobody's going to marry you after this. You'll come back crying."

I put my hands over my ears and kept walking.

Outside I threw the ring and the food in the trash without looking at either one — the ring that never fit, the food I couldn't eat.

The night wind was cold. I crouched down on the pavement with my arms around my knees.

My heels had opened up somewhere around the second block and my stomach was turning over.

I stayed there until the lot lights came on and the clinic sign buzzed itself out.

Then the phone rang.

"Hi, it's Dave from the flooring crew. We're still on for Monday, right? Same stain as before?"

I fixed my voice before I answered.

"Stop the work. There's no wedding."

That apartment was mine to run. He never came once.

The only time he did, he sent Vivian in her place, and she left a tap running and the floor warped, and all he said was "she didn't mean it, just redo it."

So the floor didn't matter now. Nothing did.

I got up and walked back to the dorm.

Maya was asleep when I came in. I didn't turn the light on.

I sat on my bed and pulled the clip out of my hair and didn't move for a while.

---

I woke up at seven with the sun in my face and eleven messages on my phone.

All from Priya.

[Are you awake. Jo. Are you up.]

[Go to the gallery. I'm serious.]

I got there and every card under every painting said the same thing.

[Vivian Blake.]

"It's my show tomorrow," I said. "You've got the wrong cards."

The gallery coordinator wouldn't look at me.

"Ethan called it in. His family funds the space. We do what they ask."

Ethan and Vivian came out from the back.

"Ethan. What gives you the right?"

He shrugged. "You're marrying me. You don't need your name on things. Vivian needs the chance. Gets her a foot in the door so she can take over the gallery."

I remembered the day he signed the lease on this place. He cut the ribbon and told me it was the first gift of the rest of our lives.

In one day he had taken back every part of it.

Vivian stepped in front of him with her chin up.

"If you're angry, be angry at me. Don't take it out on him. He did it for me."

"Vivian, you're too good," he said.

They stood close together. I was the one who looked like the villain.

I was so tired I couldn't feel my hands.

"Fine," I said.

I reached up and pulled the painting off the center of the wall. The hook came with it.

"But this one's mine."

I painted it for my mother before she died. It's the only one I have.

He waved a hand at me.

"Take it. When you've thought it over, I'll put the show back up."

He didn't know there wasn't going to be a next time.

Two weeks ago, I'd already said yes to the gallery in Edinburgh. I hadn't told him.