Curtis was holding me from behind. His voice came out low and muffled against my hair.
"Why are you asking about that all of a sudden?"
He didn't confirm it. He didn't deny it either. He just pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"That's all in the past."
Something twisted inside me, but when I looked up and met his gentle gaze, the words died on my tongue.
Some questions you never dare ask—because you're terrified of the answer.
Now the answer had walked right up to me on its own.
All those things he called "the past" had never actually passed.
I fumbled for my phone. The screen flickered to life for a split second, then went black.
Dead.
When your luck runs out, even the universe piles on.
Curtis wasn't home yet when I got back.
I iced my ankle, curled up on the couch, and couldn't summon the energy to move.
He came through the door carrying a small cake, flipped on the light, and paused when he saw me. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
He set the cake on the table in front of me, crouched down, and ruffled my hair the way he always did.
"Is it cramps? Let me wash up and I'll make you some hot tea."
He was that kind of man—attentive, considerate, always one step ahead.
My mother had adored him. She used to say I could search the whole world and never find someone better.
I'd believed her. I thought I'd found the one.
Now a fog had settled over everything, and I couldn't see which way to go.
I'd just lost my mother. If I lost the man I'd spent six years building a life with, too, I didn't know whether I'd survive it.
While I sat there staring at nothing, Curtis slid the cake closer.
"Have something sweet. It'll help."
He stood, humming to himself as he disappeared into the bathroom.
His phone lit up on the coffee table. Something pulled my hand toward it before I could think.
It was the new contact he'd added today. Her profile picture and his were a matching set.
Back when Curtis and I were in the honeymoon phase, I'd begged him to do matching profile pictures with me.
He indulged me in everything—except that. On this one thing, he wouldn't budge.
"I've had this picture for years. It'd feel weird to change it."
"Besides, it's just a profile picture. It doesn't prove anything."
He was wrong.
A profile picture proved plenty.
At the very least, it proved that in his heart, I had never been his first choice. Just the consolation prize.