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the voices suddenly stopped. The ensuing silence was broken by a single surprising epithet from inside Trisha’s room, spoken by Patrick and barely loud enough for her to hear.
    Rachel stood in the doorway of the apartment feeling like she was in an alternate universe. After she stood silent for a moment, the voices began again to argue, this time in whispers, though they soon evolved into sniffles and consoling murmurs.
    Rachel set down her bag of books, walked to Trisha’s door, and knocked. “Patrick? Trisha? What’s going on?”
    The voices stopped again. Then, after a final exchange of harsh whispers, the door opened. Patrick stepped out, and before he shut the door Rachel could see Trisha wipe tears from her cheeks. Patrick took Rachel’s hand and led her to the living room. “We need to talk.”
    A black hole opened in the pit of her stomach.
    “I have to confess something.” Patrick’s gaze hovered somewhere around her chin. “I know I told you that Trisha and I have known each other for a long time. But I never told you that we dated.”
    “Oh.” The hole grew. “When?”
    “In college. We broke up but … I’ve always had feelings for her.” He stopped, swallowed, took a deep breath. “I found out recently that she still had feelings for me too.”
    Rachel felt dizzy. “Patrick—are you breaking up with me?”
    “No, I just need to be honest with you … but—”
    Trisha emerged from the bedroom. Her face was red, her cheeks still wet. “You are such a coward. Just spit it out already!”
    Rachel saw panic slip across Patrick’s face. “Just let me do this, Trisha.”
    “You won’t—you can’t. You don’t have the guts. You didn’t back then and you still don’t. I thought six years would have changed you, but you’re still pathetic.”
    “Trisha, don’t—”
    “He’s been cheating on you.” Trisha stared Rachel down. “With me.”

Chapter 5
     
    The apartment was silent. The echoes of Rachel’s shouts and sobs existed only in her head. She sat on the sofa, black TV screen ahead of her, spinning the diamond ring on her finger.
    Patrick hadn’t tried to deny it or even soften the accusation. “How long?” had been met with “four months.” “Do you love her?” elicited a reluctant “yes”—though the answer had been the same when Rachel asked if he loved her as well. Not that it mattered. There was no forgiving this. The wedding was off, and they were done.
    Patrick and Trisha had slunk out together after Rachel refused Patrick’s attempts at consolation. And now she was alone.
    She’d left the apartment shortly after they had, unwilling to stay where Patrick’s betrayal had taken place, but she returned half an hour later when she realized she had nowhere else to go. She’d poured all her relational energy into Patrick over the last year. There were no other friendships in her life with depth or intimacy—except for her relationships with her mother and Barbara. But she couldn’t go to Barbara, for obvious reasons, and there was no comfort to be found at her childhood home right now. She had a hard time even considering it home. Just like her childhood, her relationship with Patrick now felt like a lie, which made the apartment not feel like home, either. She’d never felt so isolated.
    Daylight faded and night settled in around her. Her body was leaden, her muscles no match for the weight of grief that enveloped her. Her mouth wanted a steaming café mocha with extra whip—she supposed a situation this desperate required not only coffee but chocolate as well—but she didn’t have the energy to make one. When her cell phone jangled in her purse, the shock of sound sent an arrow of adrenaline through her gut. Patrick? Heart racing, she fumbled for the phone, her hands clumsy from idleness. The caller ID showed Daphne’s number.
    “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you back sooner,” Daphne said when Rachel finally flipped open the phone and managed a weak