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"Hey," Pete brings my focus back on him. "The guys want to take me out to celebrate. Just drinks. Nothing crazy."

He hesitates. Like he's asking permission.

"That's great," I encourage immediately. "You should go."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." I try to sound convincing even though a sour lump forms in my throat. I've been wanting to go out with Pete for months now, and he's shot me down every single time. Yeah, I know, Mom. But we could ask Maggie, his sister, to babysit her. This is more about Pete not wanting to go.

He laughs quietly. "If you want me to come home and help with your mom?—"

"No, no," I cut in quickly. Feeling a bit of guilt because he's been working so hard. He deserves a night out. I just wish it were with me, not the guys from the office. Totally selfish. So I add, "It's all good. We're good. You go celebrate. You deserve it." I mean that. I do. He needs a good time, too. He's been carrying so much. And maybe now that he has the promotion, he'll make more time for me again? I'm not sure quite when it started, but we hardly ever spend any time together anymore. Just him and me. When I suggest something—even something small, like a walk around the neighborhood—he's busy. Tired. Already thinking about the next thing that needs fixing, planning, and handling. And I feel like I've become part of a routine. His routine. A warm body standing in the corner, ready when he needs it. Every once in a while, he remembers that I'm there, that I have feelings—go to the party, have fun—but those moments are becoming less frequent. In my worst moments, Ifeel like I'm just a necessary ornament to him. One that fixes his food and warms his bed.

The kind of presence you don't have to think about… because it's always there.

And I hate that I think that. It's not fair. My eyes land on the ball invitation, and a funny feeling spreads through my stomach. There is no way he's going to blow off a ball. It's not something we've ever been invited to. Maybe we can rekindle some sparks then.

I push down the desire to go with him tonight, too, to sit next to him while his coworkers clap him on the back and toast him. Celebrate him.

Behind me, Mom drops another dish into the sink.

"Are you sure?" Pete checks again.

"Yes," I put as much enthusiasm in my voice as I can. "Absolutely. We'll celebrate when you get home. I promise. You go have some fun. I love you."

There's a smile in his voice now. Relief. "I love you so much. More than you'll ever know."

I close my eyes for a second. I do know. That's the thing. I know he loves me more. He's always loved me more. It makes my chest feel warm, safe, and chosen... Pete is real. Solid. Steady. Good. And I am lucky. So lucky.

Even if, lately, it feels like something else is circling just outside the edges of my life. Which might just be my imagination, because if I'm really honest with myself, I'm… dissatisfied. Yes, I'm safe. But I need… more. Not much. Not the danger of a biker gang. Just something that gives me a tiny thrill. Something that doesn't revolve around the five o'clock news and dinner. I feel like I've been in limbo for the last six years of my life. Waiting for it to… evolve?

The next day…

The ball gown has been delivered. Midnight blue silk. The tux arrived at the same time. Understated. Perfect. The car is tuned, detailed, and mechanically flawless. It will not break down again unless I decide it should.

I know these things because I arranged them. Because I do not leave details to chance.

I can't believe she lives in that house. I've seen it. Three bedrooms. Peeling paint along the gutters. The back fence sags like it gave up years ago. It's maintained just enough, the plants watered, the yard clean, no weeds creeping through the cracks. No violations. No attention.

Still… It's the worst house on the block. Which is probably the only reason they could afford it. I wonder how suspicious itwould be if she suddenly… upgraded. Won another drawing she didn't enter.

My Audra.

The idea settles in my chest like it belongs there. She deserves the world. I could give it to her. Easily.

But she's married. Happily.

That word tastes bitter. It might be easier to swallow if Pete weren't such a… Pete. A nobody.

I drag a hand down my face and exhale slowly to suppress the instinct of just shooting the damn bastard and getting it over with. The problem is, I can't make Audra unhappy. Or sad. And like it or not, she'd be both withSaintPete gone. So… I'll have to work around him, since he can barely keep them afloat. I've seen the numbers. I've seen the way she lives. The way she settles.

Pete isn't a bad man. He's just not me. He's just not enough. She deserves more than enough. She deserves me.

My fingers drum against the glass surface of my desk,tap, tap, tap, while my mind works through logistics and ways to make my Audra happy without her knowing.

I sent the purse because I knew she wanted it. Because she looked at it like it was something she wasn't allowed to have.

She is.