“Jules?”
“He’s engaged.” My voice sounds strange. Distant.
“Yeah. Owen just found out. Garrett didn’t want to say anything before the wedding because he didn’t want to make it weird, but Owen thought you should know before you get here so you’re not blindsided by it.”
Engaged. The word echoes in my head. Three months after he called me from Toronto and told me he couldn’t move to Seattle because he loved someone else.
Three months.
“When did he propose?” I’m impressed that my voice isn’t shaking with shock or rage even though I’m feeling both right now.
“I don’t know exactly. Recently, I think. Owen said Garrett just told him this week.”
So Garrett has been with her for barely six months total. Cheated on me for over half of those months, broke up with me, proposed sometime in the last few weeks. Met someone, fell in love, decided to marry her, all in less time than it takes most people to commit to a gym membership.
“Jules, I’m so sorry. I know this is awful timing?—”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. This is my wedding and now you have to see him with?—”
“Olivia. It’s your wedding. I’m not going to make it about my drama.” I’m surprised by how calm I sound, like I’m reading from a script. “I’ll be there, I’ll smile, I’ll be the perfect maid of honor. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Because if you want to skip the rehearsal dinner or?—”
“I’m not skipping anything. I’ll be there for all of it.” Because that’s what I do. I show up. I perform. I’m perfect even when everything inside me is screaming. “I promise it won’t be weird.”
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“I know. I love you too.”
“And if you need to talk or?—”
“I have to go. Marnie needs these files finished. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Text me when you land.”
“I will.”
I end the call and stare at my laptop screen, the spreadsheet blurring in front of my eyes.
Engaged.
Garrett is engaged to the woman he cheated on me with.
Which means he didn’t just move on. He didn’t just find someone new. He found someone better. Someone worth proposing to after five months when we were together for three years.
My hands are shaking. I press them flat against the desk to make them stop.
I was perfect. I was exactly what he said he wanted—organized, stable, focused, low-maintenance. I didn’t make demands. Didn’t cause drama. Made space in my closet and my life and my future for him.
And it still wasn’t enough.
The door opens. I look up expecting Marnie, but it’s Rodriguez.
Of course it’s Rodriguez. We’re supposed to be having lunch right now. I completely forgot.
He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, his hair damp like he just showered after working out. He stops when he sees my face, his expression shifting immediately. “Hey. You okay?”
