Chapter 4

Julian was up at six.

Today was their tenth anniversary.

Outside, the sky was gray and a light rain was falling.

He spent forty minutes in his walk-in closet before settling on a charcoal bespoke suit and the Chelsea boots Evelyn had given him.

Then the better part of two hours on his hair and beard, until the man in the mirror looked flawless.

The little velvet box in his pocket felt heavy. Inside, a three-carat diamond ring waited.

When Evelyn saw him down on one knee, she'd be speechless.

Julian smiled at his reflection and took a full-length selfie. He thought about posting it to Instagram, then put the phone down.

Not today.

It would hit harder if she saw it in person.

The truth was, that night at the French restaurant, when Evelyn walked out without looking back, Julian had stared at the closed door and felt something catch, like a grain of sand in his shoe. Small, but it bothered him.

She'd gotten angry before. She'd given him the silent treatment before. But every time, before she left, she'd shoot him a look that said, You'd better call me later. Not that night.

He didn't go after her, though.

Partly it was pride. With everyone watching, going after her would have been as good as admitting he was in the wrong.

Partly there was just no need.

For the next two days, Julian made a point of not contacting her.

He even went to a movie downtown with Mia and posted a photo on Instagram of the two of them holding a tub of popcorn.

He figured Evelyn would see it, get mad, and break down and call him.

She didn't.

Her own page hadn't been updated in two weeks. She hadn't even answered the three texts he'd sent her the night of the gala.

It got under his skin, but he was still sure.

What was Evelyn going to do? When had she ever not been the first to give in?

Today was their tenth anniversary.

Every friend, every relative, every coworker would be there.

All he had to do was get down on one knee and slide that ring onto her finger in front of everyone, and she'd cry.

Whatever she was upset about would disappear the second she saw that diamond.

He knew her.

Push her and she pushed back. But give her a big enough gesture, a graceful enough way out, and nobody came around faster.

Once he thought about it that way, the grain of sand stopped bothering him.

At nine, the party planners he'd hired arrived.

The penthouse was done up in champagne tones: balloons, flowers, lights, every detail perfect. In the center stood a three-tier custom cake for the moment after the proposal.

When Julian came out of the bedroom, his father was standing in the middle of the living room, directing the crew on where to put the lights.

"Dad, is Evelyn here yet?"

His father turned and shook his head with a smile. "Not yet. She'll be here soon, I'm sure. You look sharp today, son."

Julian smiled.

He checked his phone. Nine twenty.

No rush. Every year she'd shown up a little after ten.

He turned on the TV, found a financial channel, and watched while he waited.

Ten. Ten thirty. Eleven.

Nothing at the door.

Eleven forty. His father came over with a glass of whiskey and sat down across from him.

"Evelyn's still not here? Want to give her a call?"

"No need," Julian said without thinking. "She's stuck in traffic. It's the weekend, the whole city's backed up."

His father looked at him for a moment and said nothing. He got up to greet the guests who were starting to arrive.

By noon, almost everyone was there. Relatives stood around in little groups, chatting. A few of his cousins came over to tell him how great the suit and boots looked. Julian smiled and played along, but his eyes kept going to the door.

At twelve thirty, his father came over and bent down. "Son, how about I give her a call?"

Julian bit his lip. He wanted to say no, but something had caught in his throat and the word wouldn't come.

The phone was still in his hand. The screen lit up and went dark, lit up and went dark. Nothing from her.

"Go ahead, Dad. Call her."

His father took out his phone, found Evelyn's number, and dialed.

She picked up.

"Mr. Sterling, could you please tell Julian happy anniversary for me?"

"And tell him."

"There won't be any more."

The line went dead. His father stood frozen with the phone still at his ear.

"Dad, what did she say?" Julian saw the look on his father's face and knew something was wrong.

His father turned to him. His lips moved. "Evelyn said... happy anniversary. And that there won't be any more."

There won't be any more.

Julian stood there with his head ringing. What did that even mean?

"No way."

"Dad, you heard her wrong. Call her again!"

His father looked at him like he wanted to say something, then dialed again.

Straight to voicemail. A flat recorded voice telling them the person they were trying to reach was unavailable.

Again.

Voicemail again.

Julian grabbed the phone out of his father's hand and dialed himself.

He stared at the screen while the same recording played in his ear again and again, that mechanical voice telling him she couldn't be reached.