Chapter 4: Exes, Besties, and New Enemies

Ryan was long gone by the time I made it outside. His truck had vanished, not even a hint of exhaust left behind.

Luckily, he barely used his phone and was the kind of guy who paid in cash, still wrote checks, and read physical newspapers. Old-school to the bone. So why would he let someone put a ring—any ring—on that finger, even a toy one?

I tried to swallow my jealousy, but it sat like broken glass in my chest. I trudged upstairs while Hunter sprawled across his bed, out cold.

I unloaded my heartbreak on Kayla, my best friend.

[I think I'm heartbroken.]

Kayla fired back: [Girl, you’re heartbroken and you didn’t even get to first base? Nicole, that’s tragic.]

[Not even a kiss? Some PG-13 action?]

That was Kayla—never met a bad idea she wouldn’t try twice. After hearing my sob story, she just shrugged it off:

[If you’re into the single dad type, I know eight or ten. Jake makes his own baby food, even.]

Kayla owned a club downtown. The place always smelled like spilled Red Bull and expensive perfume, with a bass line you could feel in your chest. It was a world away from my reality.

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain that Ryan’s 'married man but single' vibe wasn’t something you could fake. It wasn’t about clothes, cologne, or swagger.

Ryan lived in Walmart tees, battered jeans, and that flannel with a hole in the elbow. It should be illegal to hide a body like that under Walmart tees.

I’d wanted to give him a wardrobe upgrade—had a whole "Hot Dad Makeover" Pinterest board. But a few weeks ago, Ryan invited me over for dinner to thank me for helping out.

Of course I said yes. I was so excited I showed up forty-five minutes early, after changing outfits three times and spending an hour on my hair.

Hunter opened the door, tiptoed up to the knob, and I knelt to hug him, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and apple juice.

"Where’s your daddy?"

"Daddy’s getting dwessed," Hunter lisped.

Then Ryan appeared at the stairs, a little panicked. "Why are you here so early?"

"I wanted to come early—"

But when I looked up, my heart just about stopped. He must’ve just showered—water still clung to his collarbone. He’d rushed to get dressed, and it showed.

My pulse raced, cheeks burning as I took in the sight. Ryan wore a cream V-neck sweater that was way too loose, the neckline dipping lower than necessary. The cheap fabric had gotten wet, revealing the shape of his chest. I glanced away, embarrassed, then couldn’t help sneaking another look.

"I haven’t made dinner yet. Want some snacks first?" Ryan asked, totally oblivious to how much skin he was showing. He walked over, but his steps slowed under my gaze, and when he looked down, realization hit.

His face turned bright red. He fumbled to cover himself, which just made the neckline gape wider. "Sorry! I’ll go change," he stammered, and bolted upstairs.

He’s one of those guys who’s hot without even trying—like, he has no idea what he’s working with.

The moment passed too fast. I wished I’d taken a picture—for science.

But then I realized maybe it was good he didn’t dress up more often. That body in those shirts? Dangerous.

I tried to explain this to Kayla: [You wouldn’t understand.]

Kayla: [...]

[Girl, I understand plenty. You’ve got it BAD.]

[Don’t overthink it. It’s just a photo. Maybe it’s his ex-wife. You can’t beat a memory, babe.]

Ryan’s ex-wife…

When I’d first asked, Ryan had just said, "She’s dead," flat, emotionless. I’d apologized, mortified, but he’d only changed the subject. Still, I remembered the way his hands had clenched before he forced them to relax.

I told myself not to be jealous of a ghost, but it’s hard to compete with someone who’s perfect in memory.

But that photo… Ryan must have loved Hunter’s mom deeply—love that leaves scars.

The jealousy was bitter, but it faded as Hunter woke up, calling for his dad. I went to prep formula, remembering Ryan’s long list of instructions.

On the table was a plate of snacks Ryan had made—sandwiches, fruit, cookies—on the nice plates. He’d made them for me. The little flame of hope inside me sparked back to life.

Hunter stumbled over, sleep-warm and sweet, and offered me the bottle. My heart melted. I hugged him tighter, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and apple juice.

"Auntie drink! It’s good!" he insisted.

I pretended to take a sip, making a big show of it, and he snuggled into my arms. Maybe the bullet comments were wrong. Hunter loved me. Ryan trusted me. Maybe I had a chance.

Then my phone buzzed—vibrating hard on the table, making Hunter giggle.

Kayla: [I take back what I said. Stop obsessing over your single dad.]

Kayla: [Guess who I saw?]

Photos loaded—grainy, shot from across a restaurant. Ryan, in a suit, looking devastating. My heart skipped. But Kayla’s next message made my blood run cold.

[He was with Taylor Quinn—the Thompson heir. At a couples’ restaurant. Reservation-only, two-month waitlist.]

[Even with my best-friend bias, Nicole, you versus Taylor Quinn? Maybe switch targets. I’m just saying.]

Bullet comments exploded across my vision:

[Here it comes! The side character discovers the male lead is dating the female lead]

[Next comes the plot where the side character tries to sabotage the female lead, even using little Hunter to threaten the male lead! No wonder she ends up with her family ruined and her best friend dragged down]

Family ruined? Drag down Kayla?

I stared at my phone, fingers numb. Was my whole life just a script I couldn’t escape?