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269 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 4, 2025
MaybeI stopped on the landing.
The silence stretched for a heartbeat. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of people working side-by-side, but… something else. Something that made my chest tighten.
There was a rustle of fabric. A sharp intake of breath. My feet moved before my brain caught up. I moved up the steps, then into the hallway. The door to his cramped office was half-open, and I could see…
I could see…
Liam's hand was in Jenna's hair. His other hand, the one that had held mine just this morning, the one that would slip a ring on my finger in five weeks, was cupped against her jaw, tilting her face up to his. Her hands were fisted in his shirt, the navy station t-shirt I'd folded fresh from the dryer last Sunday. They were pressed together against his desk, and he was kissing her the way he used to kiss me. The way he hadn't kissed me in…
God, how long? How long had it been since he'd kissed me like that? Like he was desperate for it? Like he couldn't breathe without it?
Jenna made a soft, breathy sound, and Liam's fingers tightened in her hair. Something inside my chest cracked open. His mouth moved to her neck. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat, and his free hand dropped to her waist, sliding under the hem of her shirt. She arched into him, and he lifted her—actually lifted her—onto the edge of his desk. The same desk where we'd eaten Thai food two weeks ago, where I'd sat and told him about the end-of-year field trip while he'd smiled and nodded and said all the right things.
Her legs wrapped around his waist.
His hips pressed forward.
It was too much. My fingers went dead, and the container slipped from my hands.
It hit the floor with a plastic crack that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. Eighteen perfect cupcakes exploded across the linoleum, buttercream and vanilla bean and hours of work scattered in a mess of plastic and frosting.
They broke apart.
Liam's head whipped toward the doorway. His face went white. Then red. Then something worse: guilty.
“Piper—”
His voice felt like barbed wire someone had tightened around my heart.
I turned and ran.
My feet hit the stairs too fast, and I grabbed the railing to keep from falling. Behind me, Liam was still calling my name.
“Piper, wait! Please, Piper!”
But I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.
The common room blurred past. The bay doors were open and the sunlight was too bright, too normal, too much like the world hadn't just split open. My hands shook so hard I dropped my keys twice trying to unlock my car. The metal bit into my palm when I finally got the door open.
“Piper!”
Liam was in the doorway now, shirt untucked, hair disheveled. Looking exactly like what he was.
I threw myself into the driver's seat, slammed the door and locked it. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get the key in the ignition.
He reached my car and pressed his palms against the window. "Please. Please just let me explain!”
The engine turned over.
I looked at him then. Really looked at him. At the man I'd been planning to marry in five weeks. The man I'd woken up at five in the morning to bake for.
His mouth was still red from kissing her.
I put the car in reverse and drove away.
She was watching me with those dark eyes, the same eyes that had looked at me across the bar four months ago, the ones that had made me forget everything I should’ve remembered.
For a second, just a second, I let myself imagine it. Kissing her. Letting everything with Piper go. No more guilt, no more wedding to stress over, no more having to face what I'd done. Just this. Just easy. I'd done it before. Four months of making the easy choice, the selfish choice. Four months of taking what I wanted and telling myself it didn't mean anything. It would be so simple to do it again.
How had I let it get this far? Four months. Four months of lying and sneaking around and telling myself it didn't mean anything, that I'd end it soon, that Piper would never find out. Four months of being stupid enough to think I could have both. And now I had neither. Jenna was gone for good. She’d made sure of it when she walked out yesterday, enough venom in her voice to make it clear she meant it. But she’d never been what I wanted, had she? She’d just been easy. A distraction.
"You can't just walk away from this. From us. What about the wedding?"
I stopped and turned around.
"What about it?" I asked.
"We have two hundred people coming. We have deposits. We have—"
"Cancel it."
"Piper, please. Think about the wedding. Think about everyone who's coming. My parents, your parents… they've spent so much money. We can't just—"
I stepped forward and jabbed my finger into his chest.
"I don't give two fucks about the wedding, Liam."
He opened his mouth but I kept going, punctuating each sentence with another poke to his sternum.
"I don't care about the deposits or the guests or what your mother thinks or how much money anyone spent. I cared about YOU." My voice cracked but I didn't stop. "I cared about our future. About building a life together. About Sunday mornings and stupid arguments about whose turn it was to do the dishes and growing old and all the little things I thought we'd have."
"We can still have that.”
"No, we can't. Because YOU wrecked it." Another jab. "You threw it all away for four months of sneaking around with her. So if you think, if you actually think, that I'm going to save this wedding just to spare you the embarrassment?" I shook my head. "You're out of your goddamn mind."
"Piper—"
"I am MORE than happy to burn this whole thing down myself."
"You're being unreasonable." His voice was rising now. "You need to calm down and think about—"
"Calm down?" I laughed again. "You cheated on me and you're telling me to calm down?"
"I'm trying to fix this and you won't even listen to—“
"We're done, Liam."
"No." He shook his head, desperate. "I'm not giving up on us.”
"That's not your choice anymore," I said, and my voice was steady. Cold. "The wedding's off. We're off. I don't want to see you.”
"That's bullshit," he said, louder now. "You don't get to make that decision on your own.”
I'd moved two hours away. Changed my number after she blocked the old one. Deleted social media because seeing mutual friends post about their lives—lives that didn't include me anymore—was too much. I’d kept my distance from Riverside. Told myself it was for the best, that she needed space, that we both needed to move on. And while I'd been here, working double shifts and trying to outrun my mistakes, she'd been building something. Creating the life she'd always wanted. The one I'd told her was too risky, not practical, not the right time for. She'd done it anyway.
Let Riverside be what it is: a chapter closed. I’d earned the right to stop bleeding over it.
I'd eaten those cupcakes and told her they were good. Told her she should open a bakery… someday. Someday when we had more money, more stability, more time. I'd never actually believed she'd do it.
The problem wasn't just that I'd cheated. The problem was me. I'd been comfortable. Too comfortable. We'd fallen into a routine—work, wedding planning, Sunday dinners with family—and somewhere along the way I'd stopped seeing Piper. Stopped really looking at her. She'd become part of the furniture, part of the plan, part of the safe, predictable life I'd built. And then Jenna showed up and paid attention to me. Made me feel seen. Made me feel like I was more than just a guy going through the motions. Except that was bullshit too, wasn't it? Jenna didn't really see me. She saw what she wanted to see. And I'd let her because it was easier than admitting I was bored with my own life. Easier than doing the actual work of staying present in my relationship. I'd told Piper the bakery was too risky. Too impractical. We needed stability, needed to save money for the house, for the wedding, for the future we were planning. But in reality? I'd been scared. Scared she'd succeed and outgrow me. Scared she'd realize she didn't need me to build the life she wanted.it.
"She's my fiancée.”
"Ex-fiancée," Maya corrected. "And you're standing outside my apartment harassing my sister, so either you walk away right now or I'm calling your captain and telling him one of his firefighters can't take no for an answer."
Liam's jaw clenched. "You can't—"
"I absolutely can. And I will, with details. Want me to tell him about Jenna too? She’s your subordinate, right? Lieutenant sleeping with someone under his command… I bet that’ll go over great."
She looked down at the flowers in my hand.
"Are those grocery store daisies?"
"I just wanted to—"
"What, apologize with seven-dollar flowers? That's your play? You cheated on her for four months and you think daisies are gonna fix it?" She let out a laugh that had zero humor in it. "Buddy. My guy. My dude. You are so far out of your depth you can't even see the shore anymore."
"I know I messed up.”
"You didn't mess up. You didn't forget to take out the trash or accidentally double-book dinner plans. You stuck your dick in someone else while my sister planned your wedding. That's not a mess-up. That's a choice. Or, rather, multiple choices. Like, hundreds of choices over four months."
"Can you just tell her I'm sorry? That I want to talk—"
"She doesn't want to talk to you, and she sure as shit doesn't want to see you. She doesn't want your sad grocery store flowers or your explanations or your excuses." Maya leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "She's done, Liam. Completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent done. And you know what? Good for her."
"I love her."
"No, you don't. You love the idea of not being the bad guy. You love not having to face consequences. But you don't love her, not really. Because if you did? You wouldn't have done what you did."
I know she had to cancel a wedding and tell two hundred people and face her friends and her family and explain that the man she was going to marry couldn't keep it in his pants for four goddamn months."
She stepped closer, and I actually stepped back.
"So yeah. I know plenty."
"I just want a chance to explain—"
"There's nothing to explain. She caught you. You admitted it. That's the whole story." She pointed at me.
"Now get off my doorstep before I call the cops and tell them you're harassing my sister."
"I'm not—"
"You showed up at her place of residence after she blocked you on every possible platform. That's textbook harassment, my dude. Now leave. And take your ugly flowers with you."
She slammed the door in my face.