Parker’s getting married.

To Lance.

“I’m not going to do it tonight or anything,” Lance explains. “I don’t know when…I just wanted your opinion first. You know her better than anyone.”

Damn right. I do.

And fuck, she’s going to love that ring. It’s a perfect (huge) diamond with a circle of smaller diamonds around it. It’s classic but with plenty of sparkle.

The dude nailed it.

And I force myself to focus on the important thing. Her happiness.

I look at him. “She’ll love it.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, man. You don’t how nervous I was to tell you about it. I don’t think I’ll be this nervous when I ask her dad for permission. Hell, I should be asking you for permission.”

“No,” I say, glad the loudness of the bar makes it impossible for him to hear the catch in my voice. “She’s your girl. She’ll always been your girl. I just watched over her for a while.”

I no longer care about making a polite excuse, or what everyone will think about the fact that I ditch the bar without so much as a goodbye.

I go straight home and fill out every one of those Seattle business school applications.

And then I mail them. Every last one.

Chapter 31

Parker

Lance “hid” the ring in his underwear drawer.

I mean, leaving aside the cliché of it, does he really not register that I do all of the laundry? As in wash it, dry it, and put it away.

Of course I was going to find the damn ring!

But in the end, it doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t matter whether Lance was hoping I’d just stumble across the ring in the least romantic proposal of all time, or whether he’s just oblivious.

In the end, finding that red jewelry box was the wake-up call I needed.

Not just a wake-up call that I can’t marry Lance, because I’ve known that for weeks.

No, finding that box made me realize something even more disturbing:

I’ve been using Lance.

I’ve been lying next to him night after night, trying to remember how to be in love with him, when really my every thought and every dream was consumed with someone else.

Of course, I don’t tell him this last part when I break up with him.

Instead, I sit him down when he gets home from work and quietly, kindly tell him that it’s not working out.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

I didn’t intend to, but in the end, I dumped him in the very same location he dumped me months earlier.

And to his credit, he handles me breaking up with him with more dignity than I did.

He doesn’t even look surprised, and because I know him well—almost as well as I know Ben—I narrow my eyes.

“Lance.”

He looks up.

“You don’t exactly look crushed,” I say with a faint smile. “Particularly considering I found a certain key piece of jewelry in your dresser drawer.”

He groans and leans forward until his forehead touches the kitchen counter. “I’m an idiot.”

“Because you were going to propose when we’ve barely connected? Haven’t even had sex?”

He snorts. “I know. I was going to return it. I just…”

I prop my elbow on the table, then put my chin on my hand. “You just…”

“I thought that buying that ring…committing to you, would make me forget—”

I sit up straighter. “Oh my God. You’ve still got a thing for Laurel.”

“No!” He sits up. “No, I…fuck. I don’t know. I haven’t seen her but I keep thinking about her. Wondering…”

I smile then, a bittersweet kind of smile, and stand. I lean forward and impulsively kiss the top of his head. “You should tell her.”

“She’s got a boyfriend.”

I lift a shoulder. “Tell her anyway. I think we both know that it’s possible to be dating one person and thinking of another.”

He searches my face. “Ben?”

I swallow.

Nod.

Lance blows out a breath. “I knew it. That song at karaoke…that was for him, wasn’t it?”

My eyes fill as I remember that moment. It seems strange that it was just the night before, because I feel like I’ve had a lifetime to reflect on it.

I can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to pour my entire heart and soul into the lyrics of that gorgeous, heartbreaking song.

My heart still feels the ripping agony of telling Ben how I felt even if he didn’t know I was telling him.

My heart freezes as a thought strikes me. What if Ben did know?

If Lance caught on, why wouldn’t Ben?

Oh God. What if that’s why he vanished last night?

We all assumed he’d picked up some girl at the bar, and I’d hated that scenario, but I hate this one a lot more. What if Ben figured out what I was trying to tell him, and ran?

Lance stands and walks me to the door.

I pick up the overnight bag I’d left by the front door in anticipation of this precise moment. The moment when I walked away from the guy I once thought I’d marry.

“Bye, Lance.”

He leans forward, kisses my cheek. “Bye, Parker.”

And just like that, it’s over.

It’s over and I’m okay with it.

Well, not okay. Because there’s a huge hole in my chest—a hole that has nothing to do with the guy I’ve just broken up with.