I returned our home while he toured with her novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Saturday morning, I made breakfast, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, the works. “Kyler, can

you stay home today?”

face.

I set the plate in front of him. All his favorites.

“Why? What’s up?”

“I just want you to spend the day with me.”

He looked a little surprised. “Sure. I’ve got nothing going on.”

“Really?”

“Really. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing. Just stay in.”

“Okay.” He smiled and sat down to eat. I sat across from him, trying to memorize his

“Kyler.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

His fork paused over his plate. “Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”

“I want to hear you say it. Just once.”

“I’m marrying you. What do you think?”

“Marriage and love aren’t the same thing.”

“What’s with you today?”

“I just want to hear you say it yourself.”

He set his fork down and looked at me. “Wren, of course I-”

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Seraphina.”

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“Don’t answer.”

“Let me just check.” He swiped. “She says a pipe burst. Her place is flooding.”

“She can call the super.”

“It’s the weekend. Nobody’s gonna pick up.”

“Then call an emergency plumber.”

“By the time someone gets there, the whole place will be trashed.” He stood up.

handle it. I’ll be quick.”

“Kyler, you promised you’d stay home today.”

“I know, but this is an emergency.”

“You always say it’s an emergency.”

“A burst pipe, I can’t just ignore it.”

“What about me?”

“What about you? You’re fine.”

“I’ll go

I’m fine. He always thought I was fine. Seraphina’s burst pipe was an emergency. My

broken heart wasn’t.

Our first year, when he told me he loved me, he said, “Wren, I want to spend my life with you.” That day, he took me for beef noodles and promised we’d come back every anniversary.

The second anniversary, he forgot.

The third year, I reminded him. He said, “It’s just a bowl of noodles. We can go another

time.”

The fourth and fifth years, I stopped mentioning it. He never remembered.

“Go.”

“One hour, tops. Then I’m back.” He grabbed his coat and toolbox, paused at the door,

and looked back. “Don’t be mad.”

The door clicked shut.

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One hour passed. Two. Three. I called.

“Almost done. Pipe’s fixed, but there’s water everywhere. I’m mopping it up.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Soon.”

Another hour. He texted: [Seraphina says thanks for letting me come. She’s taking me to

lunch. I’ll head back after.]

I didn’t reply.

He texted again: [Go ahead and eat. Don’t wait up.]

I sat in the living room, staring at the cold breakfast on the table. The eggs had gone

rubbery, the toast stiff as cardboard.

I’d asked him if he loved me. He never finished the sentence. Because Seraphina’s call

mattered more than my question.

I stood up and walked into the bedroom. Opened the closet and pulled out two

suitcases.

I really didn’t have much in this home. One suitcase for clothes, half a suitcase for

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