Page 13

Middle of nowhere, far away from anyone I knew. A place where people went to disappear.

I clicked on the inquiry form, filling it out in a mall parking lot at midnight. Name. Email. Phone number. Reason for interest.

I stared at that last field for a long moment. What did you put for why you wanted to buy a house at midnight on your wedding day while still wearing your dress?

Finally, I typed: “Starting over.”

I hit submit at 11:47 PM, sitting in my car with nowhere to go and no one to trust.

The mall parking lot was quiet. A security guard drove past in a golf cart, slowing when he spotted me. I waved him off. He hesitated, then kept going. Probably a woman in a fancy dress was not the strangest thing he’d seen on a Saturday night.

I put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. I didn’t know where I was going yet. A motel, probably. Somewhere with a door that locked and no memories attached to it. Tomorrow I’d figure out the rest. Right now, I was just a woman driving through Charlotte with no luggage and no plan beyond a cottage in Tennessee.

The inquiry confirmation glowed on my phone screen from the passenger seat.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

5

— • —

Sam

The morning after my wedding, I woke up in a motel room that smelled like cigarettes and broken dreams.

Actually, “woke up” was generous. That implied I’d slept. What I’d actually done was lie on a questionable bedspread for six hours, staring at water stains on the ceiling while my phone buzzed itself to death on the nightstand. Every buzz was another message I couldn’t bring myself to read. Another person wanting answers I didn’t have. Another reminder that twelve hours ago, I’d had a future planned.

Now I was just a woman in a wrinkled dress who’d paid cash for a room at the Sleep EZ Motel because it was the only place that didn’t ask questions about a bride showing up alone at midnight.

My honeymoon suitcase was sitting in Garrett’s house. Our house. Whatever. The place where I used to live before this entire shitshow. That suitcase was packed with sundresses and lingerie for Italy. We were supposed to be at the airport in two hours.

Instead, I was here, trying to figure out if the dark stain on the carpet was coffee or blood.

I finally picked up my phone. Sixty-three missed calls. One hundred and forty-seven text messages. And my social media was having what could only be described as a complete nervous breakdown.

I scrolled past everything and called Jess.

My best friend answered on the second ring, her voice bright with excitement. “Sam! Oh my god, how was it? Are you at the airport? I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, but this residency is kicking my ass and…”

“Garrett fucked Sophie.”

Silence. Then: “What?”

“At the wedding. During the reception. I caught them.” My voice sounded flat, emotionless. Like I was reading a grocery list instead of describing the worst day of my life. “Oh, and she might be pregnant with his baby. And they’ve been doing it for two years. And my mom knew.”

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?”

That was why I loved Jess. No platitudes. No careful sympathy. Just pure, unfiltered rage on my behalf.

“Yeah. So instead of being on my way to Italy right now, I’m in a motel that definitely rents by the hour, still in last night’s dress because my clothes are at our house and last night I would’ve rather set myself on fire than go back there.”

“Sam, holy shit. Are you okay? Stupid question, sorry. Of course you’re not okay. Where are you? I can get on a plane…”

“Charlotte’s too far, and you have work.”

“Fuck work. You’re more important than work.”

“You save lives, Jess. This… This is not as important as that. I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I will be. I have a plan.”