My boyfriend rolled his eyes at the birthday cake I had stayed up until nearly four in the morning making for him, took one bite, spit it into his hand, and dumped the entire thing upside down into a trash can while his friends filmed me waiting to see if I would cry.

Chapter 3

We won our quarterfinal 2–1.

Keegan, Trey, Austin and Haley showed up to watch from behind the rope.

Every time Graham touched the ball, Keegan shouted, “Furniture!” because that was the nickname he had used to humiliate Graham for years.

Graham ignored him.

Aurora scored the winning goal off one of Graham’s passes.

I screamed until my throat hurt.

Keegan left before the handshake line.

The next week, we won the semifinal on penalty kicks.

Then the championship 1–0.

Graham scored with four minutes left.

Georgiana cried and denied it immediately.

Stefan handed us championship shirts with the emotional enthusiasm of a man distributing parking citations.

That night, I registered the team for another season.

Graham remained captain.

I remained manager.

Keegan never came to the final.

He was still in my basement.

His notice expired July 31.

He had begun looking for apartments but made little progress.

On July 20, he came upstairs and sat across from me like we were discussing weather.

“I need a favor.”

I almost laughed.

“What?”

“I applied for a one-bedroom. They’re going to contact you as my landlord.”

“And?”

“Tell them I always paid on time and we’re ending on good terms.”

I stared at him.

“You cannot be serious.”

“If I get approved, I can move out early.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“So help me.”

“I’ll tell them the truth.”

He looked relieved.

“You paid me five hundred dollars a month. There was no written lease. I served notice. You ripped the first copy in half.”

His face darkened.

“You’re going to ruin my life over cake.”

“No. You’re experiencing consequences over character.”

The leasing agent called two days later.

I said exactly what I had promised.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

His application failed.

By July 26, Keegan stopped pretending he planned to cooperate.

I came home and found him wearing one of our championship shirts.

“Take that off.”

He smiled.

“I played most of the season.”

“You tried to destroy the team when you were removed.”

“It was my team.”

“No. You occupied it.”

He pulled the shirt off and threw it at me.

Then he told me he was not leaving July 31.

“Graham can’t move into the basement while I’m there.”

“You know about Graham’s lease?”

“He told Austin.”

Graham needed a place by August 1. His roommate was moving out, and after the playoffs I had offered him the basement once Keegan was gone.

“He has a real lease,” I said.

Keegan laughed.

“So what?”

Then he said the thing that eliminated whatever tiny doubt remained.

“I’m still bringing the ring to the rehearsal dinner.”

I stared.

“You don’t have the ring anymore.”

“I do.”

“Your mother asked for it back.”

“She gave it to me.”

“What exactly do you think is happening at the rehearsal dinner?”

“I’m proposing.”

“I’m going to say no.”

“No, you won’t.”

The confidence in his voice chilled me.

“You won’t embarrass Donna and Diego and Lenora in front of both families. You never make scenes in public. You smile, then cry later.”

I looked at him.

So that was the plan.

Not a proposal.

A trap.

He believed social pressure would do what love could not.

“If you get down on one knee,” I said, “I will find a microphone before I say no.”

He laughed.

“You’re dramatic.”

“There’s that word again.”

July 31 came.

Not one box moved.

August 1, Graham arrived.

I gave him the upstairs guest room temporarily because legally I could not remove Keegan from the basement myself.

Graham carried his mattress upstairs.

“Is Keegan going to be a problem?”

“Probably.”

“Okay.”

That was all he said.

Two days later, Keegan hosted Trey and Austin downstairs while Graham had Finley, Armando and Samuel upstairs to watch the same baseball game.

Meera and Aurora arrived with wings.

Austin came upstairs for the bathroom and found his now ex-girlfriend sitting at my table.

“What are you doing here?”

Meera looked at him.

“Watching baseball. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with my boys.”

She pointed toward the basement.

“Then your boys are downstairs.”

When Keegan saw Graham in the living room, he sneered.

“Furniture.”

For years, Graham had accepted that nickname.

This time he stood.

“The furniture lives upstairs now.”

Finley laughed so hard he spilled his drink.

Keegan looked at me.

“Is he your rebound?”

“He’s my tenant.”

I paused.

“With a lease.”

Trey physically pulled Keegan downstairs.

The next morning, I went to court.

The clerk told me the first available holdover hearing was August 13.

The day before the rehearsal dinner.

“I’ll take it.”

I knew exactly what I was doing.

Keegan was served two days later.

Donna began texting me immediately.

Could I postpone?

Could I please consider Diego and Lenora?

Could I avoid putting the family through this during wedding week?

I said no.

Then she asked for help recovering her mother’s ring.

I answered with one sentence.

He’s your son.

At the mediation on August 13, Keegan asked for September 1.

I refused.

Then August 16, the day after the wedding.

I refused again.

The mediator explained that if we went before the judge and Keegan lost, a formal judgment could make future apartment applications even harder.

Keegan leaned toward me.

“What do you want?”

“Tomorrow at noon. Everything out. Key on the counter.”

“Tomorrow is the rehearsal dinner.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

I met his eyes.

“Because tomorrow was the day you planned to corner me in front of your family and count on me being too embarrassed to say no.”

His face changed.

“Instead, you can spend the morning moving out.”

He signed.