ake that impossible. A few nights after Chloe' s visit, I was at a small gallery opening for a friend. I wa

uilt?-crossing his face before it was replaced by a cool mask. Chloe, on his

for everyone nearby to turn and stare. She rushed over to him, fei

the role of the protective boyfriend. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, gl

ing, yet I was being cast as the villain in their public drama. My fri

dding me?"

m, stopping her. "It's

ill, my face a blank mask, and endured the stares and whispers. I let them

. Loud music, laughter, and other, more intimate sounds coming from Liam's apartment next door. The w

t escape the low thud of their bass or the sharp bursts of Chloe' s laughter. At one poin

er at this! Is this what you w

ace. I curled up on my couch, wrapping a blanket around myself, and felt a single, hot tear trace a path down my chee

, telling me he loved me. The memory, once a source of comfort

e sun came up and the noise finally stopped. I spent the

a farewell dinner with a few close friends. I was reluctan

e table in the back, laughing and sharing stories. For a few ho

mate table across the room. It couldn't be

face hardened. "I'm g

. "Please. Don't. Let's jus

to focus on my friends, to laugh at their jokes, to participate in the con

a bite of his dessert. It was an act of deliber

A waiter brought a drink to our

er," the waiter said, pl

severe allergy, but it caused an ugly, itchy rash. Liam knew that. He had

t was a test. A twisted reminder of the intimacy we once shared. I

oman, publicly humiliating me, but he still wanted to

oss the crowded room. My heart gave a painful throb, a ghost of the c