Elena’s pov

“What the fuck are you doing, Elena?” I said it out loud while I paced the kitchen tile barefoot, phone gripped so tight the edges dug into my palm.

The screen still showed his last message and the three dots that had appeared and vanished and appeared again like he was right there waiting.

I knew exactly what this was. Every lingering look across the dinner table when David got up for more wine. Every “accidental” brush of his knuckles against the small of my back when he reached past me for the salt.

The way Marcus’s eyes always dropped to my mouth when I laughed too loud...