Chapter 3

The scent reached me before I had the door all the way open.

Vanilla. Not mine. I've never worn anything like it.

A pair of nude heels lay by the entry bench. I stepped around them.

The living room filled in the rest.

A pink cardigan thrown over the arm of the couch. Two mugs on the coffee table—Edward's charcoal one, and a pink one with a cartoon cat that had appeared in my cabinet four months ago without anyone asking me.

I stood there with my keys still in my hand and looked at three years of my life.

When we first moved in, Edward's friends wanted to throw us a housewarming. Edward killed it on speakerphone with his arm around my shoulders.

"She's private. Home is where she gets to stop performing. Nobody comes in here but us."

I had believed him. I'd built my entire sense of safety on that sentence.

I still can't name the day Elowen got the door code.

First it was "she just landed, she's got nowhere to stay, two weeks max." Then "don't lock the bedroom at night, she hates the dark, she might need you." Then "go easy on the chili, her stomach's sensitive."

Elowen moved into her own place eventually. But she stayed anyway, the way ivy stays in brick after you tear it out.

Her shampoo in the shower. Her charger in the outlet by the couch.

And the backup code, which Edward handed over without mentioning it to me. "In case something happens and she needs somewhere to go."

When I pushed back, he just frowned at me with that patient, disappointed look, like I'd failed some test of character.

"Sorren. Don't be small about this."

...

The gray suitcase was under the bed, unused since the move.

I pulled it out and opened the closet.

I folded everything properly. Work blazers. The coat.

I was careful about it. I didn't want to leave anything behind. Not a receipt, not a hair tie, nothing that proved I'd ever been here.

Then, my phone rang. Video call.

I answered and pointed the camera at the blank white wall.

Edward's face filled the screen. "You're home."

"Why isn't there food?" He tugged his tie loose, already looking away. "Elowen's been talking about your seafood chowder all night. Start a pot. We'll be there in thirty."

Not a question. A dispatch.

"There's no seafood in the house," I said.

"So walk down to the market, it's on the corner."

The irritation came through fast.

What is going on with you today? You've been passive-aggressive since you walked out of that game. It was a joke. Are you seriously still keeping score?"

Half of Elowen's face slid into frame at the edge of the screen.

"Sorren, I'm so sorry. Don't go to any trouble, really. If you're not up for it I'll just order something."

Edward pulled the phone away and turned his head toward her, and his voice dropped into warm.

"You're not eating delivery. She's home doing nothing anyway."

Doing nothing.

Eleven hours at the firm. No lunch, because I'd wanted to leave on time for the anniversary.

"I'm not cooking," I said.

Two full seconds of silence. Edward blinked.

"You're really doing this tonight."

His voice went flat. "Fine. I'll take her somewhere nice. Enjoy the empty apartment, Sorren. Don't come crying about it later."

The call cut.

I stood up and looked around. Without my things, the bedroom looked like a staged unit.

I rolled the suitcase to the entryway.

The smart lock panel lit under my thumb. I pulled up the lock's settings and punched in the admin code.

Fingerprint 02. Mine.

I pressed my thumb to the pad and selected delete.

The deadbolt clicked shut behind me, heavy and final. Suitcase in hand, I walked toward the elevator.