Serena Whitmore had spent three months saving up for the perfect gift for her soon-to-be fiancé.
And he had a surprise waiting for her, too.
He was fucking her best friend.
Serena stood frozen in the entry hall of the house they'd bought together, one hand still on the doorknob and the gift bag dangling from the other. Through the gap in the wall, she could see the living room. She could see the new gray couch they'd picked out last month, and Derek on that couch with Scarlett in his lap, her fingers tangled in his hair.
An hour ago, he'd picked up her call and said, rushed and a little hoarse, *"I'm tied up at work, babe. I'll call you later. Love you."*
She'd actually felt guilty for interrupting him.
"Mm. Stop." Scarlett's laugh was low and breathless, nothing like the voice that had cried on Serena's shoulder over her last breakup. "We'll do this right. Carry me to the master."
"The master?" Derek grinned against her neck. "That's Serena's room, baby."
"It's *our* room until she moves in." Scarlett kissed him again, slow and satisfied. "I want to see what the view's like from the bed you two picked out for your honeymoon. Humor me."
Serena's fingers tightened around the gift bag until the paper handles creaked.
Inside it was a watch. Titanium case, dark blue face, engraved on the back: *For the rest of our lives.* It had cost three months of her overtime, and she'd carried it on the train like it was glass.
"God, you're insane." Derek laughed and rubbed Scarlett's back. "You know she paid for half of this house, right? The down payment, the furniture. I just had to smile and say *soon, babe.*"
"Six years of soon." Scarlett tipped her head back and sighed. "She's actually planning a wedding. She dragged me to try on dresses last weekend, and I stood behind her in the mirror and fixed her veil. She cried and said I'd always be her maid of honor."
"And what did you say?"
"That she looked beautiful." Scarlett smirked. "I'm not stupid. I want a front-row seat when she finds out there's never going to be a wedding. Maybe you could propose to me right after."
"After her name goes on the loan, her salary goes in our joint account, and then we see." Derek shrugged. "Not like she'll ever check."
They kissed again, laughing against each other's mouths.
Serena didn't feel her feet move. One second she was in the hall, and the next she was standing in the doorway of the living room, her heels loud on the hardwood.
"Check what?"
Scarlett screamed and almost fell off Derek's lap. Derek shot to his feet so fast that the throw pillow hit the floor.
"Serena?" His face went white. "What are you doing here? You weren't supposed to be back until Saturday!"
"I came early." Her voice was calm. She had no idea where the calm was coming from. "I wanted to surprise you."
For a second, nobody said anything. Scarlett yanked her blouse straight and slid off the couch, and her eyes darted toward the door like she was measuring the distance.
"Serena. Okay. Listen." She held up both hands. "This isn't what it looks like."
"It looks like you asked him to carry you into my bedroom."
Scarlett flinched, then recovered. "We were going to tell you. It just... happened."
"Just happened?" Serena looked at Derek. "You've been planning how to spend my money together. How long has this really been going on? Tell me."
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His eyes went to Scarlett, then to the floor, and then, to Serena's disbelief, his jaw tightened.
"You know what? I can't believe you'd walk in here and catch me off guard like this." He pushed a hand through his hair and glared, like she was the one who'd done something wrong. "You don't call. You don't text. You just show up, spying on me in my own house. If you trusted me, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."
Serena stared at him.
Six years. She'd wired him rent for his startup. She'd cooked dinner at midnight after double shifts. She'd believed every *soon, babe*.
"Spying," she said slowly. "In the house I paid for."
"That's not the point!"
"It's exactly the point." Serena let out a bitter laugh. "God, I must've been blind. I actually spent three months saving up for a watch for you. Had it engraved, too. All because you once said wearing it would make you look like a successful, married man."
She glanced at Scarlett, then back at Derek.
"Turns out the only thing I couldn't afford was a pair of decent glasses. Otherwise, I would've seen what kind of people you two really are."
Derek's expression tightened. For a moment, he looked almost embarrassed.
Then he rolled his eyes. "I never asked you to buy me a watch, Serena."
"Serena, come on," Scarlett said, softer now, sweet and shaky, the voice she used when she wanted something. "You're upset. Let's sit down. Let's talk like adults."
"Adults don't ask for my bedroom."
"We made a mistake—"
"No." Serena's voice finally cracked on the word, and she hated that it did. "A mistake is when you forget a birthday. This was a plan."
Neither of them answered.
She looked at the man she'd thought she'd marry and the woman she'd thought she'd grow old with. They stood side by side in the house she'd helped buy, and neither one could meet her eyes.
*Don't cry,* she told herself. *Not in front of them.*
She turned around and walked out.
---
By midnight, the watch box was gone. She had left it in a trash can outside the bar after staring at it for ten full minutes.
By one in the morning, she had cried enough that there was nothing left but anger.
By two, she stepped out into the cool night air with a half-empty bottle in her hand and the city spinning at the edges.
She was drunk enough to be reckless and sober enough to hate every second of it.
“Derek Hayes,” she muttered, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “May your hairline run away before I do.”
She took three unsteady steps into the quiet road.
A black car braked sharply several feet away.
The headlights washed over her.
A door opened.
Long legs stepped out first, followed by a man in a dark suit.
Even through the haze of alcohol and heartbreak, Serena noticed him.
It was honestly unfair.
The man looked like he had been carved out of cold moonlight and bad decisions. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. Expensive suit. The kind of face that made women forget common sense and remember every mistake they had ever wanted to make.
He looked down at her.