Chapter 5

When I returned to pack my things, I texted Carter ahead of time.

I wanted to give him enough notice to prepare whatever excuse and clean up any mess that might've been left behind.

The room was spotless. He'd even taken the time to clean, which I'd never seen him do before.

"Where have you been these past few days?" he asked, pretending to be concerned.

"Hospital."

"You were sick?" His tone turned suddenly caring.

The old me would've been touched.

But I'd seen too much.

"Just my eyes."

"What about your eyes?"

"I couldn't see people clearly," I replied coldly. "But now I can."

Relieved, he smiled. "That's good. It's important to see things clearly."

I nodded.

Because now, I truly did.

While packing, I found the pottery mug that Carter Delaney and I had made together.

It was shattered, thrown into the trash.

He had once said he loved that mug, despite its imperfections.

After all, it held memories of us.

"How did it break?" I asked.

He replied casually, "It broke by accident."

I smiled faintly. His lies weren't even convincing anymore.

That mug had been carefully stored in his home office. The chances of it "accidentally" breaking were slim to none.

Clearly, someone had destroyed it on purpose.

I sighed.

It was already broken—what was the point of regretting it?

"Skylar Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your clothes lying around?"

He frowned, holding up a lacy bra with irritation.

"It's not mine," I said evenly, glancing at it.

I never wore that kind of lingerie, and he knew it.

Realizing his mistake, he quickly hid it behind his back, suddenly flustered. "Oh… I remember now. I bought it for you, but the size was wrong. I meant to throw it out."

His excuse was clumsy, but it wasn't worth my energy to call him out.

"Okay."

I replied lightly, not even pretending to care.

Thinking he'd smoothed things over, Carter reached for my hand and said, "How about I take you to try on wedding dresses tomorrow? I'll buy you that one you've always loved."

"And don't worry about the ring we lost—I'll get you a new one."

For all our nine engagement attempts, I'd done all the planning.

He never lifted a finger, so leaving me high and dry hadn't cost him a shred of guilt.

Even his friends had teased him.

"Man, don't you know how to treat a lady? If you keep pulling stunts like this, aren't you afraid Skylar will leave you?"