The night before Clifford Delgado and I were supposed to get our marriage license, our friends threw a party, and someone suggested a room-key game.

"Whoever's key you draw, that's who you spend the night with."

I frowned before I could stop myself.

But Clifford dipped his head and kissed the tip of my ear, smiling like he was sure of himself.

"What are you worried about? I already had them switch it."

"The one I draw is going to be your key."

So I nodded and went along with it.

Then, a second later, Clifford flipped over the key card in his hand.

Printed right there was the name of my best friend, Peggy Sullivan.

The room erupted.

Someone whistled. Someone else egged it on.

"You lose, you take it like a good sport. Surely his wife can play along?"

Peggy looked at me, her face flushed, and gently caught my hand.

"Tammy, don't read into it."

"I'm just keeping an eye on Clifford for you tonight."

"I'm your best friend. You still don't trust me?"

Clifford frowned at me too.

"It's just a game. Don't kill everyone's mood."

I caught the scent of the same woody cologne on both of them, one I couldn't say when they'd started sharing, and suddenly I laughed.

"Fine."

"Then I'll draw one too."

I picked up the last key card off the table without looking.

When I turned it over, the whole room went quiet.

Rick James.

Clifford's archrival.

I held the card and curved my lips at Clifford.

"It's just a game."

"You can play along, can't you?"

...

The smile faded from Clifford's face, bit by bit.

He reached out to take the card from my hand.

"Tamara Winfield, don't be difficult."

I pulled my hand out of reach and smiled.

"Wasn't it just a game?"

Around us, people jumped in to smooth it over.

"This is different, though."

"Peggy's your best friend. How could she hurt you?"

Someone clicked their tongue.

"Right, your best friend watches your man for you and you still can't relax?"

"You're awfully possessive, aren't you?"

Peggy stood beside Clifford, her eyes already rimmed red.

"Tammy, maybe just let it go."

"I don't want to be the reason things get messed up between you and Clifford tomorrow at the clerk's office."

As she spoke, she held the card out a little.

But her movements were slow, like she couldn't bear to part with it.

Clifford frowned and blocked her hand.

Then he looked at me, his tone cold.

"Peggy and I have always been perfectly innocent."

"If I go out of my way to avoid her tonight, it'll only look like there's actually something to hide."

"Since I've got a clear conscience, there's all the more reason not to dodge it."

Peggy bit her lip lightly, her voice soft, like she was thinking of me.

"Tammy, I know it bothers you."

"But the more Clifford and I try to keep our distance, the more people will imagine things."

"If we spend one night together and nothing happens, that actually proves it to you."

She finished and lowered her head again.

"I'm your best friend."

"Are you telling me you don't even trust me?"

I looked at the card clutched in her hand and it suddenly struck me as absurd.

Someone beside her spoke up, all sympathy:

"Peggy, you're just too good-natured."

"You're only watching Clifford for his wife, and they're making it sound like you did something wrong."

"His wife, Peggy's already backing down this much. What more do you want?"

Clifford frowned, as if he didn't like the crowd stirring things up.

But he didn't deny any of it.

He only said quietly to Peggy: "Don't cry. No one's blaming you."

Peggy immediately murmured:

"Don't talk about Tammy like that."

"It wasn't easy for her to get to marry Clifford."

"After all, the Winfields aren't what they used to be. It's only natural she feels insecure."

For a moment, the room fell silent.

Then someone laughed, low and knowing.

"True enough."

"The Winfields have been on the way down for a few years now. She really does need to hold on to Clifford."

"No wonder she's so wound up about it."

The color drained slowly from my face.

After everything fell apart for the Winfields, Clifford was the one who came forward and said he wanted to marry me.

He'd said: "Tamara, from now on I'll protect you. No one will dare look down on you again."

But now.

His friends were tearing open my most humiliating wound, right in front of him.

And Clifford just sat there, watching in silence.

It hit me all at once.

It wasn't that they looked down on me.

It was that Clifford let them.

Peggy seemed to realize she'd said too much, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Tammy, I'm sorry."

"That's not what I meant."

"I only said it because I feel awful for you."

Tears spilled down her face, her voice catching.

Clifford finally reached out and drew her behind him.

"Enough."

The way he looked at me had gone cold, like a stranger.

"Tamara. Apologize."

I almost thought I'd misheard.

"What did you say?"

He said it slowly, one word at a time.

"Apologize to Peggy."

"She's already bent over backward to spare your feelings."

A small laugh slipped out of me.

"Fine."

Clifford's expression eased a little.

He probably thought I was finally backing down.

But the next second, I lifted my head and looked at Peggy.

"Peggy."

"Tonight, you keep an eye on him for me."

Her face froze.

I turned back to Clifford.

"As for the apology."

"Let's talk about it after I get the marriage license tomorrow."

Clifford's brow dropped.

"Tamara, what's that supposed to mean?"

I gave the key card in my hand a little wave.

"Isn't the rule that you honor the bet you lose?"

"I should go find my room too."

With that, I turned and walked out.

Behind me, Clifford shot to his feet.

"Tamara!"

"If you really go to Rick James tonight, then don't bother registering the marriage tomorrow."

My steps hitched.

Something pricked lightly at my chest.

But it faded fast, and all that was left was numbness.

I looked back and smiled at him.

"Perfect."

"I wasn't that eager to register it either."

As I walked out of the private room, the laughter behind me picked right back up.

Someone lowered their voice on purpose, but it carried clear as anything into my ears.

"Clifford, your girl really needs to work on that temper."

"Getting the license tomorrow and still throwing breakups around to scare people."

"Relax, she won't let go of me. The state the Winfields are in now, who doesn't know that?"

A burst of laughter.

Clifford didn't come after me.

I stood at the end of the hallway, gripping the key card with Rick James's name on it, and suddenly thought back to a long time ago.

Back then, Clifford wasn't like this.

The year everything first went wrong for the Winfields, I went to a dinner with him for the first time.

Someone deliberately seated me at the very foot of the table.

Partway through, a man said with a smile:

"With the Winfields in the state they're in, and Miss Winfield can still show her face at something like this. Strong nerves."

The whole table laughed.

I clutched the hem of my dress, my face burning.

The next second, Clifford set his glass down hard on the table.

"Wherever Tamara sits is the head of the table."

And then he got up from the seat of honor and came to sit right beside me.

That night, he draped his own coat over my shoulders.

Blocking out all those sizing-up stares.

Back then I really was moved by the sheer, overwhelming love Clifford showed me.

I believed he would love me and protect me, always.

Later, I was the one who brought Peggy into this circle with my own hands.

The first time she walked into that exclusive club in the New York suburbs, her palms were damp with nerves.

She held on to my arm and whispered, "Tammy, everyone here looks so important."

"What if I embarrass you?"

I smiled and smoothed down her gown for her.

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"You're my friend."

"With me here, no one would dare treat you badly."

That gown was one I'd lent her.

That auction was one I'd brought her to.

Every connection I had, I introduced to her, one by one.

Back then, Clifford even warned me.

"Tamara, people in this circle are ruthless."

"Don't just bring anyone in."

I actually thought he was worried about me.

So I laughed, still holding his arm.

"Peggy isn't just anyone."

"She's my best friend."

He didn't say anything more.

But somewhere along the way, without my noticing,

his attitude toward Peggy changed.

The first time was at the auction.

Peggy didn't know the rules and raised her paddle by mistake.

A diamond necklace. Three point eight million.

She went white with fright, and the tears spilled over at once.

I was just about to go and sort it out with the organizers.

Clifford had already spoken first.

"Put it on my account."

Peggy stared at him, dazed.

He handed the paddle back to the attendant, his tone offhand.

"It's only a few million."

"What are you crying for?"

That night, there was an emerald brooch I'd had my eye on too.

Not expensive, but lovely.

Clifford glanced at it and said flatly,

"The Winfields are under a lot of scrutiny right now."

"It's not a good time for you to draw attention."

So I didn't bid.

Later that diamond necklace ended up around Peggy's neck.

She posted about it: "Made a fool of myself at my first auction, but luckily someone covered for me."

In the photo, you could see Clifford's watch.

I stared at that picture for a long time.

And still I told myself.

Clifford was only helping her for my sake.

The second time was at the racing meet.

Clifford loved racing.

Once, the only person who'd ever ridden in his passenger seat was me.

Then one time Peggy stood beside the car, eyes bright, and said,

"I've never ridden shotgun in a supercar before."

Clifford looked at her, then tossed the keys to me.

"You take the car behind."

"I'll run a lap with her."

I stood there, stunned.

He'd already pulled the door open for Peggy.

Over the roar of the engine, Peggy was laughing, so happy.

That same night, she posted online.

"First time riding shotgun, so scared my hands were shaking."

"Someone told me, don't be afraid."

Don't be afraid.

Those words had once belonged only to me.

The third time was before the engagement dinner.

I picked out a red dress.

But Clifford only gave it one glance.

"Too flashy. It doesn't suit you."

I looked down at the hem and, in the end, changed into the white he liked.

Yet half a month later, I saw that red dress on Peggy.

She spun around with a smile and asked Clifford, "Does it look good?"

Clifford looked at her, and for a moment something dazzled in his eyes.

"It suits you."

Later Peggy took my arm and said, as if in passing,

"Tammy, Clifford says I look more alive in red."

"You don't mind, do you?"

I smiled and said I didn't.

But the ache in my chest lingered for a long time.

Thinking about it now.

So this was how a person's place gets given away, little by little.

First a necklace.

Then the passenger seat.

Then a red dress.

And finally, tonight, this key card.