Chapter 1

My eyes were playing tricks on me, because there was absolutely no way I actually saw what I just witnessed through the peephole.

I rested my back against the front door, steadying my breath. I must have been hallucinating. It was 6:19 in the morning and I hadn't had any coffee yet. It was a caffeine- and sleep-deprived dream. Yes. I still hadn't woken up.

I made a move for Amber's high-end DeLonghi espresso machine, but then stopped short when I heard murmurs in the hallway. My heartbeat quickened. Pressing my hand over my mouth, I shuffled backward and squinted through the peephole.

Oh god. I hadn't imagined it.

"You are amazing," a mystery woman murmured, as she made out with my ex-boyfriend, Brian, with the vigor of someone sending their man off to war. "I could go again, you know."

I dry heaved as he grunted a response and cupped her ass. I knew I should retreat, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. The door to his condo-which, until three weeks ago, had been our condo-was halfway open, and the way she was pushing him against the frame made me wonder if they were going to "go again" right there in the hall.

My mind started racing as I watched them smooch like their lives depended on it, a million conflicting emotions sucker punching me in the gut.

Is this just a hookup or a new girlfriend?

I don't care.

I obviously care.

He's such a douchebag for moving on so quickly.

But he was my douchebag.

I'm going to go out there and tell him off.

I am way too classy to go out there and tell him off-

"I better get ready for work," I heard Brian say, as he pulled away from Mystery Woman and cut off the chorus of voices in my head. She unlatched her lips from his, and for first time in three weeks, I looked at him. I'd had my fair share of post-breakup run-ins over the years, and awkward small talk with an ex in the produce section, or at a mutual friend's birthday party, always got easier. But the first time cut like a freshly sharpened knife.

Brian looked good, unfortunately, so the hex Amber and I had (jokingly?) cast on him last Friday had failed in its magic. His had blond hair, sharp features, and piercing blue eyes that could have claimed their own Instagram filter. He looked handsome in a suit, which he wore eighty-five percent of the time, and was even better looking in his natural element at home, when he dressed like a jock. Basketball shorts, baseball hats, football jerseys. This morning, he was sporting all three.

"Aw, really?" Mystery Woman, who was facing away from me, cocked her perfectly curvaceous hip to the side. "Isn't there an Eggscelent just around the corner? Should we grab an early breakfast?"

Excuse me? I cracked my neck and rolled out my shoulders, preparing myself to go out there if he said yes. Eggscelent was our brunch spot. Thank god Amber was well paid and chose me over Brian in the breakup. I might just need her to bail me out of jail.

"I think it opens at six thirty." She glanced at her watch. "Maybe-"

"Sorry," Brian said limply. "I should really get going . . ."

Mystery Woman pressed her hands into Brian's chest, sighing. "I suppose I gotta go get ready for work, too." She paused. "When will I see you again?"

Brian crossed his arms so Mystery Woman had to withdraw her hand, and a smirk crept onto my lips. Was he trying to blow her off? Brian had fixed his gaze on the floor, disinterest and exhaustion plain as day on his face. Mystery Woman and I bided our time through what was becoming a long, and painful, moment of silence.

"Of course," Brian mumbled eventually, although it wasn't an answer to her question. "Sure, sure. But I have this big project this week . . ."

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

"You don't know it." Brian glanced at the Apple Watch on his left wrist, and even though I was mad at him for moving on so quickly, I suddenly wanted to hit him. God, he could be such a douchebag. Mystery Woman clearly liked him, and he was emotionally kicking her to the curb.

"Then I'll see you around sometime?" she continued, achingly oblivious.

"Totally," Brian said listlessly. "I'll give you a call."

"Awesome." Mystery Woman flipped her hair and then gave him one more long, agonizing (for me) kiss. "Give Mango a hug goodbye for me, would you?"

Finally, the woman turned to leave and I saw her face. I sighed out in relief to see that she was at least in her late twenties, because even though Brian was a giant turd, at least he wasn't a mid-thirties creep who went after much younger women. Brian watched her saunter down the hall, and as soon as she pressed the elevator button, without another word, he went back inside.

To our former home.

To wake up our goldendoodle, Mango.

I was livid, and irritated, and caffeine deficient, and not in my right mind-not thinking at all, actually-because the moment Brian closed his door, I flung open the one in front of me and raced down the hall.

Mystery Woman, who was acting all cool and collected and very unlike me, gracefully held open the elevator door as I hurled my body through the closing doors. I nodded in thanks. She was pretty. Like, extremely pretty. With no makeup. Under fluorescent lighting!

"Morning," she greeted me, when she caught me staring. Her lips curled upward into a genuine smile.

Oh great. She made small talk with strangers. She was nice, too.

"Morning," I said breezily.

She blinked, studying my face. Did she recognize me? No. We'd never met before, and even if Mystery Woman knew about my existence and followed Brian on Instagram, there was no way for her to connect the dots. Brian only posted pictures of crowds of Seahawks fans at Lumen Field, dumbbells at the gym, or blurry shots of Mango at the dog park. He had the same affinity for social media as his seventy-year-old mother.

"You live in the building?" Mystery Woman asked perkily.

"Just across the hall from Brian," I said, which I probably shouldn't have, judging by the look of horror that flashed across her face. "Sorry." I grimaced. "I saw you two together in the hall."

She played nervously with her hands. "Oh. Shoot. Sorry about that."

"No worries." I hesitated. "Have you-uh-been together long?"

Mystery Woman studied me carefully, assessing my intentions, which was fair, because I wasn't sure if they were good or not. Her eyes tracked up and down, taking note of my monochromatic outfit composed of wide-legged Everlane trousers, a crop top and blazer from Reformation, and combat boots. My medium-length straight hair, the owl-rimmed glasses I only wore to work, and my "effortless" makeup, which actually took me a full twenty minutes and required nine of the fifteen Sephora products I had in rotation. I looked good. And until I caught Brian in the hall with another woman, I felt good.

Now, I was leaning hard into jealous ex-girlfriend stereotypes and trying to figure out if Brian had been a cheating douchebag.

Now, I felt about two inches tall.

"We're not together," she said quietly. "We're coworkers. Well, we work for the same company. He's downtown at HQ, and I'm at the customer service center out in the boonies."

"I see-"

"I met him at the Christmas party last year," she continued rambling. "And then yesterday there was this work drinks thing. I wasn't sure he'd be there, but I've been, well . . ."

She trailed off, embarrassed, and I wasn't sure how to feel. I was relieved that this was new and Brian hadn't cheated, but also angry that she'd just spent the night in the bedroom I decorated, on the memory foam mattress I picked out, with the man I had called my partner for over four years.

Curiously, I also felt bad for her.

"Anyway," she mumbled. "You're his neighbor, then?"

When the elevator pinged and the door slid open, I launched into a brisk walk, but she stayed in step with me as I marched toward the front entrance.

"We've both lived in the building for a few years," I said, which was technically true.

"What's your name?"

Jasmine Randhawa. Your crush's ex-girlfriend.

"Oh. Are you Amber? His neighbor across the hall?"

"Yes," I wheezed, grateful for the prompt. "That's me!"

"Brian mentioned you." She beamed. "You both bought condos in the building around the same time. And your girlfriend's name is Danica. You two are long-distance, right?"

"You have a good memory," I said blandly. And she had been clearly thirsting after my man for a while, although I didn't say that part out loud. Brian was no longer "my man."

We reached the revolving door. Mystery Woman went first, and when I jostled through, she was on the other side waiting for me, chewing her lip. It was my turn to be friendly. At the very least, I could smile and ask her her name. But I supposed I didn't really want to know. If she told me, I would waste my entire Friday stalking her on social media.

"I don't mean to be weird," she said, playing with the tassel on her purse. We walked in step to the sidewalk. "But can I ask you a question?"

I held my breath.

"What do you think about Brian?" She paused. "He's nice, right?"

If she was asking me if he was "nice," then she already her doubts.

Brian was nice but emotionally unavailable.

No, tell her he's emotionally disturbed . . .

The early-morning sun shone brightly down on us through scattered clouds, and just then, I noticed that Mystery Woman was more than just pretty. She was real. She was developing wrinkles, like all women our age. Her shoulders were stiff with discomfort. And she had a clear-eyed, totally lovestruck gaze, which told me she didn't just deserve a guy who was nice enough to call her back, but a guy who would be enthusiastic about doing so.

She deserved a man who fit in with her friends and took an interest in and respected her career; someone who made best efforts to change his juvenile, macho behavior he'd never bothered to grow out of; a lover who, after a few years together, wouldn't treat her like a roommate or grow to find her quirks annoying instead of cute; a boyfriend who wouldn't be on his phone all through dinner, but then complain if she spent more than five minutes on Instagram; a partner who noticed when she got a haircut or dressed up for a date, and didn't make condescending jokes about her family, and constantly made her feel bad about everything, and-

"You deserve better," I said suddenly, deciding to go with honesty. Mystery Woman's mouth gaped, and blood rushed to my head as I turned on my heels and walked away. It was 6:25 in the morning, and she'd just hooked up with a guy she really liked, and yes, it was cruel, but my words weren't coming from a place of jealousy, or pain, or meanness, but of sisterhood.

She did deserve better than Brian. And as I started to throw myself a pity party about why nobody had cautioned me, a sharp pain shot through my chest at the possibility that maybe I had been warned. I'd just never bothered to listen.

Chapter 2

Five months earlier

It's still raining," I declared, tossing my keys on the counter.

Absorbed in his latest video game purchase, Brian didn't answer, but Mango trotted over to say hello. I bent down, kissed her, petted her, rubbed her belly, but when I tried to pick her up, she decided that was enough. Yawning, she rolled her way back to her doggy bed by the balcony door.

"Earth to Brian," I said lazily, peeling off my raincoat. "I'm hooome."

"Oh, hey." His eyes darted my way and then landed back on the television. "How were drinks?"

I shrugged, stashing my coat in the closet. "All the new marketing hires are so young. They're still out."

"What time is it?"

I glanced at the microwave clock and frowned. It was only 8 p.m. Even for a Tuesday, I supposed it wasn't that late.

I changed into my pajamas, pulled on some dry socks, and then shuffled back out to the living room with a new thriller Amber had lent me. I settled into the other side of the sectional, curling my feet up as I fired up TikTok. I'd scrolled through nearly a dozen videos before I remembered I'd pledged to cut down on screen time in the evening. I tucked my phone under a pillow and opened the book.

"Have you read this yet?" I asked Brian, showing him the cover. He didn't answer as his thumb furiously battled the Xbox controller, and various angry men, dragons, and other monsters on screen shot one another's faces off. The Sonos sound bar boomed as a grenade went off somewhere. I winced.

"Would you mind turning it down?"

"One minute."

Sighing, I relaxed back into the couch. I hadn't read more than a page, when another bomb exploded.

"Seriously, Brian. Can you use headphones or something?"

"You weren't home." There was a long pause as his thumbs shot down an aircraft. I scoffed, but before I could say anything more, Brian threw his hands up in the air.

"Jesus. Give me a fucking minute, all right?"

My jaw clenched as I looked up to study him. One of us biting the other's head off within three minutes of arriving home was par for the course. Some couples go ballroom dancing or play tennis after work. The game Brian and I had been playing these days was far more exhausting.

My nose ran inexplicably as I wondered if this time I was in the wrong, or if he was. But did it even matter? Even after those rare fights that had a resolution, where Brian or I admitted we'd made a mistake and apologized for it, why did it still always feel like I lost?

"I'm going to go for a run," I said quietly. Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I stood up from the couch, but Brian caught my hand. I closed my eyes, my fingers interlacing with his as he gently pulled me back down beside him.

"Are you pissed now?" he grunted.

"No." I turned to face him, breathing hard. "I've just been sitting in a chair all day. I'm feeling antsy."