It’s not like he didn’t know she’s engaged. But it’s a bitter rub to see it right there on his phone. A middle finger to his achy-breaky heart.

Wonder when she’ll update her status.

Dylan’s got no clue. She didn’t tell him her wedding date, and he didn’t ask.

He enlarges her profile picture and his head hurts. She’s beautiful, he thinks. It’s an older photo. She looks younger than the one he has of her, the one he stole from her phone. He texted it to his cell when she wasn’t looking, then deleted the message on her phone. Unless she looks at her phone bill—like anyone does that—she’ll never know. But Joy looks happier in the photo he has, and he’d like to think that she is happier because she’s with him. It’s also the only photo he has of her because she kept the Polaroids.

He opens her album of profile photos and flips through them until he lands on one with her and Mark. She’s showing off her engagement ring. We’re engaged! the caption reads.

The real world slaps him on the cheek.

Wake up, man.

He closes the app and hot potato drops his phone into the armrest cup holder.

He wasn’t supposed to have searched for her. He isn’t even supposed to be thinking about her. They have an agreement. He didn’t realize it would be such a bitch to honor it.

Get over her, Westfield.

She isn’t part of his future, and he isn’t part of hers.

Mark is.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

AFTER

Joy

“Wife.” Mark whispers the word to her with emotion. A term of endearment.

He leads Joy around the dance floor at the Starling Chateau, their wedding venue in upstate New York. The garden ceremony was perfect, exactly how she imagined. A grand vintage fifties affair her sister, Judy, had once dreamed about. Joy did everything she could to replicate the wedding plans she’d found in Judy’s hatbox of bucket and goal lists.

Joy laughs when Mark unexpectedly dips her. Their reception is in full swing. Vows have been exchanged, glasses raised, and toasts made. Cake eaten and champagne consumed. Quite a bit of champagne, given her husband’s hooded gaze.

He leans his forehead against hers. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to call you my wife?”

“How long?” Joy plays along. Their how-we-met story is Mark’s favorite to tell. She fits a hand to his neck, keeping him close.

“Since the day your backpack fell at my feet.” He grins goofily and kisses her soundly on the mouth. He pulls away with a trace of June bug–pink on his lips.