Chapter 5

"Sienna, babe, sorry to bother you. It’s Chloe."

The friend request popped up at nine in the evening.

I had just finished planting the last rose bush into the soil of my balcony rack.

Her profile picture was a blurry, backlit photo. The request message was just that one line.

I stared at it for three seconds before tapping accept.

The reply came almost instantly. It was like she had been waiting.

"Sienna, I am so incredibly sorry. The whole swing chair thing is entirely my fault. I shouldn't have said those things to Ethan in the past and caused a misunderstanding between you two."

Her punctuation was perfect, every sentence ending with a neat period. It read as formal as a corporate email.

"You know how Ethan is—he has a typical guy's brain. He just thought it looked nice and used it; he didn't think much of it. He really didn't mean anything else by it, I can promise you that."

Three messages in a row, sent in one breath.

I didn't reply.

She waited thirty seconds before sending another.

"Please don't be mad at him, okay? Men are like that—they don't know how to express themselves, but he really cares about you deep down. He barely slept at the office these past few nights."

Leaning against my balcony flower rack, the cool wind from the twenty-third floor swept over me, carrying the scent of damp soil.

I typed out a single line and sent it.

"You call me 'babe,' but you're two years older than me."

The typing indicator on her end disappeared for three seconds.

When she typed again, her tone was even softer.

"Sorry, slip of the tongue. Sienna, I’m only saying this because I don't want you and Ethan to have friction because of me."

"Whether Ethan and I have friction has absolutely nothing to do with you."

"I know you must feel hurt. Any girl would feel hurt seeing that old Instagram comment. But that was truly five years ago."

Five years ago.

He had left a total of forty-seven comments under her Instagram posts.

"That new lipstick looks great on you."

"Don't forget to eat when you work late, or I'll get mad."

"In our future home, I will definitely install your favorite swing chair on the balcony."

Forty-seven comments.

Yet in the two years he was with me, he hadn't left a single comment on my page.

"Chloe, did you text me to apologize for him, or to clean up his mess?"

Read, but no reply.

Five minutes later, she sent a voice note.

I didn't play it.

At the exact same time, Ethan’s call came through.

I picked up.

"Did you add Chloe?"

His voice was freezing, laced with suppressed rage.

"She added me."

"What did you say to her?"

"None of your business."

"Sienna." He took a deep breath. "I asked her to reach out and explain things to you. Don't take your anger out on her."

He asked her to explain things to me.

He had his ex-girlfriend explain to his current girlfriend that he wasn't secretly yearning for her.

"Do you honestly think that makes any sense?"

"If you won't listen to me, you have to listen to someone else, right?"

"So in your mind, I’m always the one who needs to be managed and convinced."

"You're already being unreasonable—"

"Fine," I interrupted. "Then let Chloe keep trying to convince me. Let’s see how far she gets."

I hung up.

He called back immediately. I declined. Third time, fourth time.

By the fifth time, I turned off my phone.

The wind on the balcony stopped, and the clouds hung incredibly low.

The leaves of the rose bushes drooped slightly, but their roots were firmly planted.

I turned my phone back on.

A message from Harper popped up: "Should I bring red wine or champagne to the housewarming party tomorrow?"

"Red wine."

Another text followed: "Are we posting pictures on Instagram?"

I thought about it for a second and replied, "Whatever you want."

She immediately sent a voice note, her voice bursting with sheer delight.

"Oh, I’m not holding back then. Sienna, that south-facing balcony of yours with the rose racks is going to keep him staring at his Instagram feed for three straight days."