My brother called the next day. And the next. But all week long, I refused to talk to him. He kept leaving apologetic voicemails and sending me sad-face gifs, but I couldn’t deal with him right now, not after what he’d done. And meanwhile, the one person I wanted to hear from was completely silent.

I was heartbroken. And furious at myself.

I’d believed Austin was different, but he’d just proven Luke was right—throwing me away like I meant nothing. I had been a fool to think that I was different. Maybe I hadn’t been just one of his groupies, maybe he had truly believed that there was something between us, but in the end, he hadn’t been willing to fight for us. He took the easy way out, and the end result was the same.

Me, alone, hurting like hell and feeling like a fool.

And I was tired of it. Tired and sad and living off of ice cream and Thin Mints. The worst part about all of it was that it was impossible to avoid Austin. He was everywhere. His record went straight to number one, just like we all expected, and all everyone wanted to talk about online and on TV was his comeback. I couldn’t avoid his face. His stupid, handsome, sexy-as-hell face. I had called in sick on Monday and was steadfastly avoiding everyone, including my editor. He was desperate for my profile, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off delivering a draft.

I was wallowing in my pajamas in my room with all the lights off when there was a soft knock on my door. Grace poked her head in to check on me.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice sweet and gentle.

“Not great,” I admitted.

“Cassie’s here,” she told me. “We’re both worried about you.”

“Damn right,” Cassie said, barging into my bedroom and flipping on the light.

I winced at the brightness, curling deeper into my blankets.

“This is ridiculous,” Cassie told me, standing at the foot of my bed.

“Be nice,” Grace chided. “This isn’t easy.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Cassie said sympathetically. “But this isn’t going to help. Trust me,” she ordered. “When you get your heart broken, you can’t just let your whole life fall apart. You have to rebuild. You have to get stronger.”

“I can’t,” I told her, a hollow ache in my chest. “Not yet.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “You have an article to write, remember? Focus on that, get it done, and then we’ll figure out your next step.”

“I don’t want to,” I told her, before remembering one of the reasons I actually couldn’t get any work done. “Besides, I left my laptop at Austin’s.”

Cassie yanked the blankets off of my bed in one smooth motion, nearly knocking Grace off the bed in the process.

“No excuses,” she ordered. “We’re going to get that laptop, and we’re going to get it now.”

There was no arguing with Cassie when she got this way. And I didn’t have the energy to try. So I put on a pair of jeans and a shirt I usually reserved for laundry day and reluctantly followed Cassie out of the apartment. Grace dutifully followed, hopefully there to ensure that Cassie didn’t beat the crap out of Austin if we ran into him. She had definitely threatened it a few times since the party.

“Do you want one of us to go up with you?” Grace asked gently as we pulled up in front of Austin’s building.

I felt sick.

What if Austin was home? Why had I thrown on my ugliest clothes instead of getting dolled up to prove to him that he couldn’t get to me? This was a terrible idea. I tried to tell that to Cassie, but she practically shoved me out of the car.

“Just get your things and go,” she ordered. “You’ll feel better once you have it back, I promise.”

I didn’t believe her at all, but Cassie’s tough love, as horrible as it usually was in the moment, had proven time and time again to be an effective way of dealing with terrible situations.

Holding myself tall, I walked into the lobby where I was recognized by the doorman.

“Sorry, hon,” the kindly older man said. “He’s not home.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding.

“That’s OK,” I told him. “I just need to get something that I left here.”

I was surprised that he let me in. But he did, leaving me alone in Austin’s apartment while he went back downstairs to man the lobby. I promised him I’d only be a few minutes. I just wanted to get my laptop and get the hell out of there. I had no intention of lingering.

And luckily my laptop was exactly where I had left it—on the kitchen counter.

The place looked messier than usual—the counter covered with paperwork. I didn’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help just taking a peek at what was spread out over the marble. Bank statements. Nothing of much interest, except . . .

Even though I knew it was wrong, even though I knew it was an invasion of privacy, I couldn’t help looking. I justified it by telling myself that Austin had hurt me, so I didn’t have to care about his feelings. Didn’t have to worry about him feeling betrayed. All’s fair and all that jazz. But as I was snooping, I noticed a recurring payment on Austin’s bank statements. $5,000 a month, every month, dating back years, to someone named Molly Jenkins.

I dropped the papers like they were on fire and got the hell out of there.

---

“There could be an innocent explanation,” Grace offered when we got back to the apartment. But Cassie was shaking her head.

“No way,” she said. “This is some shady shit.”

“What could it be?” I wondered out loud, still in shock.

“It might be nothing,” Grace tried, only to be interrupted by Cassie.

“It could be blackmail of some sort,” she said. “Or bribery. Hush money?”

“That doesn’t seem like Austin,” Grace said generously, but Cassie paused.

“What?” I asked.

“Just . . . you know what gets paid every month? Child support.”

My stomach twisted.

“It doesn’t matter,” I finally said. “Whatever Austin and I had is over. So I don’t need to know who Molly Jenkins is, or why Austin gives her money every month.”

Cassie looked like she wanted to say something, but an elbow from Grace kept her quiet. I tucked my laptop under my arm and addressed my two friends.

“I appreciate that you both are trying to help,” I told them. “But right now, I just want to be left alone.”

I then went into my room and shut the door.

---

To their credit, they left me alone. For an hour.

I had returned to my wallowing, getting right back into bed without bothering to change my clothes. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had discovered. I couldn’t stop wondering about Molly and what she meant to Austin. The possibilities that Cassie had thrown out just kept circulating through my head, and I was unable to think about anything else.

I felt like I didn’t know Austin at all.

I grabbed my pillow and pressed it to my face. Then I let out a scream.

It was muffled, but loud enough that I almost didn’t hear the knock on the door. But instead of someone coming in, I heard the slide of something being pushed under the door. I got up and found a folded piece of paper on the floor.

It was from Cassie.

“Just in case you want to find out the truth,” she had written. Below that was an address for a Molly Jenkins living in Flatbush.

I should have left it alone. I should have taken Cassie’s note and thrown it in the trash. But I didn’t. Instead, I got out of bed, snuck out of the apartment without telling Grace or Cassie where I was going, and hopped on a train to Flatbush. I second-guessed myself the whole way, but something drove me on.

I needed to know the truth about him, and since Austin was still acting like I’d never existed, this was my only option.

OK, maybe I could have called him up and asked him straight out. Or, better yet, minded my own damn business. But after everything I’d been through, a part of me was still hoping for an innocent explanation. Something I could hold onto so I could believe Austin really was a decent guy.

And if not . . . Learning the truth might help me get over him and move on.

I reached the address that Cassie had given me. It was a nice little walk-up—not too fancy, but not too run-down either. Molly’s apartment was on the ground level, and there was a little garden out front that was in full bloom. It was an explosion of greenery and beauty in a fairly nondescript neighborhood, and made me even more curious who she would be.

Then my conscience bubbled up. What the hell was I doing? I was acting like a crazy, jealous stalker: going through his mail, chasing after some random woman. Clearly, all the sugar I’d been binge-eating had gone to my head, because there was no reasonable justification for acting this way.

You’re better than this, Mia.

I gulped, and turned to leave. But not fast enough.

“You!” A familiar face had just stepped out of the apartment, and she was smiling at me.

I froze. It was the girl from the concert in Boston. The one who had lent me her gorgeous leather jacket.

The one who had introduced herself as Molly.

“Hi,” I said slowly, putting the pieces together.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, frowning. “You’re friends with Austin, right? Is everything OK?”

I nodded, but my attention was elsewhere. Instead of focusing on Molly, all I could see was the toddler peering out from behind her legs.

A toddler. Child support.

Oh shit.

Just what had Austin been hiding?