It’s been six weeks since I left New York. There is plenty to be thankful for in Milan. It’s beautiful, the people are wonderful, and there is so much to see and do.

It’s a shame that I go home and cry every night and spend an hour in front of the mirror in the morning to cover up the bags that have formed under my eyes. Makeup can only do so much. I had several people ask me if I’m still dealing with jet lag during the first couple of weeks. I told them I was because it was easier than explaining that I miss my husband, who will soon be my ex-husband. I’ve since had to retire that excuse.

When Max showed me the new contract he had drawn up, I felt so disappointed, I couldn’t even read it. Everything that we’ve shared and done hasn’t meant anything to him.

His words still echo in my mind. You and I make a great team. That’s all this was about to him—a partnership, void of any real emotions. Later that week, Max brought it up to me again, and I stopped him before he could make it worse.

“Let’s just enjoy what time we have left. We make a good team in bed and should keep it at that. Why complicate things more?”

Max didn’t like what I had to say, but he agreed it was for the best.

The last few times we slept together were intense and bittersweet. I’d never felt so fulfilled yet torn apart at the same time. I held myself together every night until he went to sleep before letting the tears flow freely in the sterile bathroom. I’ve never experienced such intense feelings about anything before.

It was inevitable. Riley called me several times in the days before I left, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet with her. I knew she would try to convince me to stay with Max at any cost. She believes that he cares for me deeply, but she doesn’t understand that an extended contract is still a contract, not an authentic marriage. In her mind, we have all the makings of a marriage and we essentially just need to fill in the blanks. From the outside, I’m sure it appears that way, but it is so far from the truth.

It’s the end of another long day, made longer by the hours I’ve set for myself. I come in early and leave late: partly because there’s so much work to be done, but mostly because it leaves me less time to wallow at the flat. I’ve made a lot of work acquaintances, but I’ve declined every offer to hang out with any of them afterward. I don’t have any desire to see anyone or share in their joy. It’s a stab in the heart every time I see a happy couple walking hand in hand or sharing a brief kiss in the streets.

Dropping my bag on the entry table, I kick the door closed and look around the small flat. I chose this location because it’s close to work, and it’s small so I won’t feel the need to fill up empty areas. As far as furniture goes, I have one bed, a table to eat on, and one chair to sit on. That’s all that came with the apartment, and I chose not to get anything extra.

I’ve had little conversation with Max in over a month, aside from quick check-ins with him about Bella. I miss her sweet face every morning, but I know this is for the best. She will adjust, like she’s always adjusted, and Max will help her do so because he’s a terrific father. I’m not meant to be in that picture, I remind myself.

My phone buzzes. I ease my heels off and flex my feet before grabbing the mobile and settling on the bed.

It’s Riley. She left a voicemail. I call her back, eager to hear a familiar voice.

“Hey, I was worried I’d never hear from you again after you became a hotshot in the fashion world—and maybe even less after that!” Riley’s cheerful tone makes me smile.

“You’re too sweet. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Me? You know I’d be nagging you to try all those samples, even if the sample sizes aren’t forgiving of my figure.”

“You nag me now, and you’re not even here,” I joke.

“True, true,” Riley muses. “So? How are you?”

“I’m great. Everything here is so amazing. The opportunities are endless, and the people are fantastic.”

“A lot of positive adjectives in your sentence,” Riley points out. “Makes your statement sound over the top. You want to rephrase that because I kinda don’t believe you. No one likes their new job that much right off the bat.”

“It is amazing!” I insist. “You know I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“Yeah, I know. And I also know how heartbroken you were before you left. That stuff doesn’t just heal itself.”

I sigh. “You know what happened. There’s nothing left for me there. I need to move on. And you can help me by not bringing it up and being happy for me.”

“You want me to be part of your denial? I can do that if you want.” I hear her slurping a drink. “As long we’re both honest about what we’re doing here. I don’t want you blaming me later for encouraging you to walk away without looking back at least once.”

“I’m not going to blame you.”

“You know he’s miserable, right? I’ve never seen him like this.”

“You weren’t even there when he and his first wife divorced. How can you compare?”

“He had a child with her—you know that had to be tough. You two had something that was supposed to end like this, and yet he’s moping around the office, not even coming in some days. I talked to Sam, too. He’s not giving me much information, but from what I can gather, he’s not happy. Oh, except about one thing!”

“What?” I sit up, intrigued. “Did that deal go through? The one that was in the works on the west coast?”

“Girl. No. You’re worse than him sometimes. Remember Sandy? She’s gone for good. Out of the picture, bye-bye—you get the drift.”

“Really? How? And why didn’t you lead with that?”

“Well, I guess that day you confronted her, Max went back and talked to Human Resources to give his side of the story. They looked into the dates, and nothing matched up. She flip-flopped on her dates and details in her story before settling on one date, and when they checked the cameras, they were in the room together, but nothing happened. In fact, it doesn’t even look like they’re talking.”

Relief washes over me, and I wish I’d been there when Max found out he was cleared of any wrongdoing. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Tell me about it. Sam told me how happy Max was. Max told him that he was in the clear faster because you brought up the cameras before anyone thought to check. He said he completely forgot he had surveillance threaded through the building for security because they never had a need to look through tapes.”

“They would have figured it out sooner or later.”

“Sooner is better than later in this kind of situation. The recordings erase and start fresh every ninety days.”

I shudder at the idea that Max would have something like that hanging over him. It must have hurt him to have me accuse him of being in a relationship with Rebecca when it was the furthest thing from the truth. I don’t want to think about him, though.

This is why I was avoiding Riley, she knows how to steer the conversation to the exact thing that’s bothering me, and she doesn’t let up until she’s hammered out a solution. “Thanks for helping me not think about him.”

“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll join you under your rock. What fashion-forward trends should I be looking into?”

After I hang up with her, I change into pajamas and examine the contents of the small fridge. Nothing looks appealing, so I shut the door and crawl back into bed. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not immersed in work, but not having much of an appetite is a new problem that I’m not prepared for. For the first time in my life, I have to force down my food to make sure I have enough energy for the day.

Snuggling down under the comforter, I’m reminded how lonely I am without Max lying next to me. I miss the comfort of his soft snoring more than I thought I would.

Riley made a point to insert her opinion again before she hung up. “You’re going to regret this. You should tell him how you feel.”

“He doesn’t want that. He decided he would change up the contract, but that’s it. There’s still no room for any feelings in the relationship.”

“Bullshit. He’s an idiot for phrasing it like that, don’t get me wrong. But you’re equally to blame if you can’t see what he’s trying to do.”

“I can’t talk about this anymore.” I ended the conversation soon after that, feigning a yawn. I can’t allow myself to believe that Max feels anything for me beyond what he’s shown. It’s a rabbit hole that will be impossible to pull myself from. It’s easier this way. Cleaner and far more efficient.

I made it through a difficult breakup before, and I can do it again. The problem is that last time seemed so much easier. I remember staying busy and crying off and on, but it was nowhere near the level of devastation I feel now.

The next day, I wake up a little later than usual, but with the same feeling hanging over me. The sky is overcast as if it senses my mood.

I want to be back in New York again, waking up Bella, cuddling with her before giving her a bath and getting her ready for the day. It’s past midnight there, so I can’t talk to her. Thus far, I’ve used the time difference as my excuse for not calling. Being a bright girl, she’s understood my reasoning, but it doesn’t make my guilt go away.

I know the real reason I don’t want to talk to her as much. I don’t want her to become reliant on me anymore, but I can’t bring myself to stop talking to her cold-turkey either. I miss everything about her, even her little hunger-pang and sleep-induced mood swings.

After my lengthy morning routine to make myself presentable, I go into the office with a smile pasted on my face. The less people know about me, the easier it will be for me to function. I don’t need other people feeling sorry for me or asking for updates. I’ve vowed to keep things friendly but professional with everyone, and I intend to keep it that way.

“You’re here late!” Diana, one of the other designers, rushes up to me. “You won’t believe who’s here!”

“Who?” I shuffle through the mail that came in late yesterday. I spy a purple postcard and pull it out first. It’s from Bella. There are no words written on it, but there is a picture of what appears to be the two of us drinking tea, and she’s drawn a border of hearts around her drawing. My eyes well up with tears. I turn away so Diana doesn’t witness my blubbering.

She doesn’t notice my distress and continues to babble about the visitor. I need to use the restroom to compose myself. I make an excuse about my bra needing an adjustment and make a beeline for the ladies’ room. There, I allow myself a few tears without messing up my makeup. If I’m going to do this, I have to be strong. A purple postcard shouldn’t hold the power to make me collapse, dammit.

I emerge from the restroom composed, but still feeling vulnerable.

“There you are.” Diana sidles up to me again. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She guides me into the main design room, where a tall blonde is surrounded by the office crowd. I hear impressed murmurs and eager questions being directed at her. She turns her face to a woman who’s asked her something, and I freeze. Rebecca.

Diana is still tugging at my arm, but I’m not budging. Okay, this is it. I don’t think Max did anything with her, so what I’m feeling is jealousy. I can do this. I can conquer this too. I need to cut loose any hold that he has over me and be done with it. I’m not jealous, because I have no reason to be, and furthermore, no right to be. End of story.

Forcing a smile has become second nature to me, and I force another one for Rebecca. Summoning up the courage, I approach her from the side, touching her arm lightly. “Rebecca? I’m Laura.”

Rebecca claps her hands and gasps, “Laura! I finally get a chance to meet you!” She wraps me in a warm hug, and my arms come around her in surprise. This isn’t how I imagined meeting her would go.

“I’m so sorry I missed you when I was in New York last time. I told Max I was mad he didn’t bring you and Bella with him! But it was my fault since I told him I was in town at the last minute.” She pulls away from the crowd with her one arm still hanging around me.

“You look positively gorgeous, and I’ve heard a lot about how talented you are from Max, and seeing your designs up close has just proved that he’s not bragging about you enough. He just wants to keep you for himself, and I can’t say I blame him.” She gives me a tight squeeze around my shoulders.

I’m not sure if I’ve spoken since I said her name—aside from the occasional smiles and nods to her words. “You’re too kind,” I manage to say. “Max said you were a great friend of his from his childhood. I’m sorry to have missed you before.”

“We do go way back, so if you want to know any terrible secrets about him, I’m your gal.”

I laugh and feel myself relaxing. She reminds me of Riley in a way, and I know I can trust her. It feels good to let go of the tension I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying around with me, and it feels even better to share a genuine laugh.

Judging by how she’s talking to me, I don’t think she knows the road Max and I are going down, but at the moment, I don’t care. I want to put a bandage on the pain, pretend everything is normal for a while.

Later in the afternoon, I return to the flat and get ready for a dinner with Rebecca and a few other designers. Every day has bled into the next until today. Today, everything feels a little different.

Spending most of my day with Rebecca, with her under the assumption that Max and I are a happy couple, makes me think that we can be just that. A pep talk from Riley every other day has helped plant the seed in my mind. It’s only grown since meeting Rebecca.

Rebecca regaled me with stories from their youth earlier this morning. I can’t believe how much more I want to hear about him, and it makes me miss him even more. I know it’s just past Bella’s bedtime, but I call Max to see if she’s still up. I miss her and want to tell her I got her postcard.

He doesn’t answer the phone, much to my disappointment. I call the house phone but I don’t expect anyone to answer that line. As a last resort, I call Sam to see if he knows where Max might be.

“Hey, stranger!” The background noise on Sam’s end is incredibly loud. “I’m out right now. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was just wondering if you know where Max is. I was trying to call him, but he’s not answering.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. You want me to try and have him call you back?”

“No, that’s not necessary. Well, if you want, that would be nice.” I’m feeling double minded about talking to Max, and I’m a nervous wreck. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t answer the phone.

“Yeah, let me give him a call. Everything’s cool, though, right?”

“Yeah, it’s great. I met Rebecca today.”

“Oh! How’s she doing? Tell her I said ‘hi.’” Sam’s voice is clearer, and I assume he’s walked away from the crowd to hear me clearly.

“She’s great. I feel silly for having doubted him.”

“Hey, you guys know what you’re doing? You want to go through with this?” I don’t answer right away, and Sam pounces on my hesitation. “I knew it!”

“It’s complicated, Sam.”

“Yeah, sure. You like each other, and neither one of you wants to admit it first. Super-complex.”

“No, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I might be younger, but I still have experience. What I understand is that I ask both of you the same point-blank question and you both have trouble answering it. That tells me that you’re not interested in separating as much as you think you are.”

“Sam.” My voice holds a warning, but I know Sam doesn’t know when to stop.

“Riley and I were just talking about you two today.”

“What! You guys are talking about us?” I sputter. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I should have suspected as much since they’re both close to Max and me.

“Riley was right. You live under a rock.” Sam laughs.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve been dating for a while. Leaves a lot of time to discuss the two thorns in our sides.”

“She never told me!” I nearly drop the phone at the news. Or maybe she told me, and I was too caught up in my own mess to listen. “Congratulations! I feel like such a terrible friend. Oh, I’m going to kill her!”

“Thanks? I think. I don’t think she wanted you to feel more upset, but I for one don’t think it will make a difference. I’m sure you want her to be happy.”

“Of course. I’m glad you two are together.”

I laugh when he tells me about all the times that Riley told him she nearly slipped up and told me. “Alright. let me give him a call and see if he can call you back.”

“I’m heading out in about an hour or so, but please let him know I got Bella’s postcard, and I was calling to talk to her.”

My heart is back to aching a little after I hang up with Sam. I know I wouldn’t have lasted long trying to pretend that I’m with Max because we’re a “good team.” But I wish I’d gone along with it. Because maybe the pain of pretending while I’m with him is less painful than leaving him and being honest with myself.

Honesty is overrated, I decide as I slip a casual summer dress on, exchange my heels for flats, and give myself a once-over in the mirror. Instead of going out tonight, trying to pick Rebecca’s brain about Max some more, I could be going to bed with him right now if I chose to extend the contract with him.

I search my eyes in the mirror and practice my fake smile. Damn my conviction. So far, it’s gotten me to my dream job, but I feel more unfulfilled than ever.