Chapter 1

I'm standing outside the private room at my boyfriend's birthday party, holding his cake.

One of his friends says, "Does Claire know you're showing us your sex tape?"

Then I hear my own voice coming from Ryan's phone.

He promised no one else would ever see it.

My hands tighten around the cake box.

Through the partly open door, I see Ryan stretched out on a leather couch, tilting his phone so his friends can get a better look.

One of them leans closer.

"Holy shit. That's Claire?"

Ryan grins.

"Who else would it be?"

They laugh.

I stop breathing.

I know that recording. I know the room, the lamp beside the bed, the promise he made before he picked up his phone.

Just us, baby. Nobody else ever sees this.

I believed him.

The first time he asked, I said no.

We were lying in bed. His hand was warm against my shoulder, and he made it sound like something sweet.

Something couples who trusted each other did.

"I like looking at you," he told me. "Is that so terrible?"

"I don't want anyone seeing me like that."

"No one will."

"What if you lose your phone?"

"It's locked. And I'll keep everything in a private folder."

I still hesitated.

He put the phone down and kissed my forehead.

"You know I'd never do that to you."

We'd already been together for years.

He knew my parents. He kept a spare charger in my work bag because I always forgot mine. When I came home from a bad shift, he could tell whether I needed to talk or needed him to sit quietly beside me.

I thought knowing those things meant he knew how to take care of me.

Eventually, I said yes.

Only for us.

He promised.

Inside the room, one of his friends whistles.

"Jesus. She seems so quiet when we hang out."

Ryan takes a drink.

"She was shy at first."

"Not anymore."

"You're welcome."

More laughter.

The cake box tilts. I straighten it before the frosting can hit the lid.

I traded shifts to be here.

I told Ryan I couldn't get away from the hospital. He said he understood, but I heard the disappointment in his voice.

So I called a colleague. Picked up the cake he likes. Wrote Happy birthday. I love you. on the little card tucked beneath the ribbon.

Now the man nearest the door asks, "You sent that to the group?"

"No," Ryan says. "I'm showing you. Give it back."

He takes the phone from another friend.

Relief hits me so suddenly that I hate myself for it.

Then he turns the screen toward someone else.

"Watch this part."

I step back.

My shoulder touches the wall.

I want to go in. Take the phone. Ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing.

But they're all in there.

All those faces that have smiled at me across dinner tables. Asked about work. Hugged me goodbye.

I can't make myself stand in front of them.

"Man, you're lucky," someone says. "She's gorgeous, she's a doctor, and she actually puts up with you."

Ryan shrugs.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? That's all you've got?"

He looks down at the screen.

Then he locks the phone and drops it onto the couch.

"Look, you eat the same thing every day, eventually you want something else."

A couple of them laugh.

One doesn't.

"You're talking about your girlfriend."

"I know who I'm talking about."

The words land so cleanly that, for a moment, I don't feel anything.

Someone asks, "So you're breaking up?"

Ryan reaches for his glass.

"Did I say that?"

"Your mom would kill you. She likes Claire more than she likes you."

"Exactly."

He says it lightly.

Like I'm a practical arrangement.

Like the last seven years are something he plans to keep in a drawer while he looks for a better way to spend the evening.

Another friend raises his drink.

"You're not married yet."

Ryan taps his glass against it.

"Thank you."

I look down at the card beneath the ribbon.

I love you.

Inside the room, someone asks whether they should invite the women from the next table over.

Ryan smiles.

"Now you're talking."