Page 1 of Easy To Lose

Chapter 1

Morgan

Four Months Earlier

“Where’s this elusive fiancé you’ve been hiding from us?” Claire jokes, placing a party hat on top of my head and ignoring my eye roll. I can feel the anger start in my fingertips as I grip the glass in my hand, tighter and tighter. Aaron promised he’d be here. He also promised that he’d make an effort this year.

And yet… He’s not here.

As I look across the room, I see a group of people making their way into the space, and for a split second, I hope he’s one of them. But as the last person enters, and it’s not my fiancé, I wonder if he’ll show up at all.

“Why is this thing on my head?” I ask, taking a sip of the champagne someone handed me when I walked into the room. The space is gorgeous, which I knew it would be since it’s one of my favorite restaurants in New York City. The place is filled with gold and silver streamers, and there’s confetti on every table. To be honest, it looks like New Year’s Eve threw up in here, and I fucking love it. Even though it’s July—a full six months after the actual holiday—I still smile when I look around.

“Morgan, it’s your birthday. You’ll do as I say since I planned this whole thing, and you should be grateful!” I smirk at her, knowing she’s right and loving her for setting this up. “But enough about the party, stop changing the subject!” she says, smacking my arm.

I haven’t known Claire long, but she’s quickly become one of my closest friends. On my first day at the Bloomingdales head office, she selflessly warned me about a rogue coffee machine that spat coffee every time you pressed a button, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

“I’m not changing the subject. I’m just refusing to answer it,” I admit, quickly glancing at my watch and feeling the pit in my stomach start to expand. It’s already after nine o’clock, and the party started almost two hours ago. He should be here by now.

I look at the platinum ring on my left hand, wondering where he could be. He knows that tonight isn’t just about my birthday party, it’s about finally introducing him to my friends—something we’ve talked about for months.

“I’m just saying, it’s after nine, and the party is dwindling.” Her gaze leaves mine to move around the room, watching as people say their goodbyes. “Maybe you should call him? See where he is.” I nod absently, taking my phone out of the back pocket of my skin-tight black jeans and going out onto the restaurant’s terrace. Once outside, the noise of the city blocks out the din of the party as I press Aaron’s name and listen to the phone ring, and ring. And ring. After a few more tries, I take a deep breath and head back inside. The worry demons inside my head run rampant as possible scenarios play out. Has he been in an accident? Is he okay? Is he dead somewhere, and I’ll never find him?

Yet an annoying little voice residing in the back of my head thinks he’s perfectly fine, simply being the Aaron I’ve slowly started to dislike. It’s been a gradual change, and at times I wonder if I’m overthinking his behavior. But then he does things like this, and I go back to being pissed.

“No luck?” Claire asks as I make my way back into the room. I shake my head, putting my phone into my pocket, trying to shake the uneasy feeling crawling all over my skin. I look around and notice that most of the guests have headed home. I’m not naïve to the fact that we’re older now and staying out past ten isn’t exactly a good thing for most adults, especially when you have to work the next day.

I take off the party hat, set down my champagne glass, and take Claire’s hand. “I think I’m gonna head out.” I’m trying to stay strong but the look in her eyes tells me she sees the unshed tears wanting to fall and knows I need to be alone. So, she just gives me a hug and a sad smile before letting me walk out the door.

Aaron and I met while I was on a business trip in Connecticut last year. We were staying at the same hotel and saw each other every morning before we went our separate ways. We started having breakfast together, and that turned into lunch and then dinner. Eventually, when it was time for us to go home, we promised that we would stay in touch.

I can’t lie and say the long-distance relationship didn’t have its challenges—sex being the biggest one—but we made it work. Then I got the news about Bloomingdales wanting a new head buyer and knew it was my shot. And the fact that Aaron was also in New York was the icing on the cake.

Everything was falling into place, almost like it was meant to be.

But after he proposed a few weeks ago, everything started to change for some reason. He’s almost never home on time, he works constantly, and our sex life has taken a dive into the gutter. I try not to overthink it because one should never believe the voices in their head, but tonight, those voices are a lot louder than normal.

Walking up to our brownstone and standing in front of the door with the keys in my hand, I freeze. The cool summer breeze brushes across the exposed parts of my skin, sending a shiver through my entire body. I don’t know what makes me pause, but for a split second, I wonder if I should stay at Claire’s house, talk to Aaron in the morning, and let myself cool down. Because if he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere, he might be soon if I find him in this house when he should have been with me.

I open the door, noticing that the kitchen light is on down the hall. Not necessarily uncommon, but it still makes the anger boil a little faster inside my veins. He’s home? Probably fucking sleeping while I was waiting for him at my own birthday party. The man is dead.

I set my purse on the dining room table to my right and make my way down the hall. I think about calling his name but decide against it. Instead, I head into the kitchen to get myself a glass of wine. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and take it out to see a text from Claire, telling me she hopes I had a good birthday despite Aaron’s lack of tact. I smile and text her back, saying that she made the day better just by being by my side. I smile at the heart eyes emoji she replies with. I’m just about to send one back when I enter the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

Because there, standing buck-naked in our kitchen, is my dear fiancé with a leggy brunette, her legs wrapped around his hips, moaning his name as he pistons into her like it’s an Olympic sport. It takes a second for my brain to catch up to my eyes, but when it does, the anger that I felt earlier boils over and starts to turn into blinding pain. But I push the hurt down and focus on the rage. It will get me through this.

“Ahem!” I say, clearing my throat, crossing my arms over my chest and jutting out a hip. It takes a second for Aaron to hear me, but his whole body locks when he does.

“Fuck!” Aaron sputters as his eyes meet mine, and he oh-so-graciously stops fucking the woman wrapped around him.

“Why are you stopping, baby…that felt so good!” The brunette moans as she reaches for him. But his eyes never leave mine, and before long, her head finally turns my way, her eyes bulging with surprise. “I thought you said she would be out all night!”

I roll my eyes at the cliché in front of me, but inside? Inside, I’m dying. The girl that was so excited about finding a guy who loved her for her and not the size of her hips? That girl is devastated that her dream is now a nightmare.

Before I can stop them, the tears start to fall, trailing down my cheeks, streaking the makeup I worked hours to perfect. My fingers angrily wipe them away as I turn and make my way to our bedroom. Or is it only mine now? Or is it his? I have no fucking idea what to do in this situation. Do I stay and talk it out?

No.

I shudder at the thought of talking about this night. Ever. So I resign myself to packing up whatever I can fit into a suitcase and calling Claire. In the back of my mind, I know the sensible thing to do is leave. Not pack everything, just go. But I can’t. All I want to do is pack up everything I can possibly cram into this damn suitcase so I don’t have to come back here tomorrow and see his face.

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