I shivered and wished desperately there was someone I could call. A side effect of only showing the best and most beautiful bits of my life to everyone meant that I felt like I couldn’t reveal my messier, more complicated emotions to anyone other than a trusted few. But I’d lost Izzy to Russell, Nick to his own hang-ups, and Cat to work, at least temporarily. The only other person I could think to call was Maggie, but I knew how that conversation would go: she would imply this was my fault for sharing too much online, and then she would start telling me about something adorable her children had done, and I would hang up the phone feeling vaguely envious, even though there was no way I would trade Maggie’s life for mine. Me as an accountant in Ohio with two children under the age of two? No, thank you.

You’ll have Cat back soon enough, I told myself, stepping into her apartment. You can hold it together for a few more nights.

I was about to drop Cat’s extra set of keys on the front table when I heard footsteps. I froze, every nerve in my body signaling danger.

Was someone in Cat’s apartment? Had my stalker followed me there?

I dismissed the notion as ridiculous—besides, I was certain I had just unlocked the door, and Cat didn’t have a creepy Ryan with an extra set of keys. Unless … When Cat had come home the night before her trial, she had needed me to let her in. She said she must have forgotten her keys back in her office, but what if she had dropped them along the way home? What if someone had found them and used them? Or … what if someone had stolen them from her purse?

Don’t be absurd, I thought. It’s most likely that Cat’s work thing ended early and she’s home.

“Cat?” I called.

There was no response. There was nothing at all. I relaxed, determining I must have imagined the earlier sound. I set down the keys and crossed to the kitchen. I was lowering the salad onto the counter when I heard another noise, a thump. I froze. Where did that come from? Was that inside the apartment?

“Cat?” I tried once more, my voice just a squeak now.

A floorboard creaked. Awash in panic, I thought, Someone is in the apartment.

I spun on a sneakered heel and raced out of the apartment, barely pausing to grab the keys off the table as I did so. I flew down the exterior stairs, my feet slipping on the wrought iron, and burst onto the sidewalk, fumbling with my phone to call Cat. I was panting and must have looked totally wild, because an elderly couple walking a Yorkshire terrier actually crossed the street to avoid me.

“Hello?” Cat answered.

“Where are you?”

“New York,” she said slowly. “Audrey, are you all right?”

“I just came home from Pilates and heard someone in your apartment.”