After being left at the altar by his idealized first love three times, Spencer Sterling finally ended up in bed with me.

We married because I was pregnant, and he doted on me through every day of it.

Until the eighth month, when his mind wandered behind the wheel and the car plowed up over the median.

I lost the baby, and they amputated both my legs just to keep me alive.

At my bedside, he looked at me with cold eyes.

"It turns out Selma Cobb had pre-wedding anxiety. The doctor said all she needed was to push through it one more time and she'd have beaten it."

"If you hadn't crawled into my bed, she wouldn't be dead."

He had decided I was the one who'd taken advantage of him in a weak moment.

I was thrown out of the house, and I died under an overpass, dragging what was left of my broken body.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment he'd been jilted and lifted me onto the bed.

I caught his mouth before it reached mine. "Sorry. There's someone I like."

…

He acted as if he hadn't heard a word, and didn't stop.

Hard muscle pressed down across my legs, and the agony of the crash from my past life slammed into me all at once.

"Don't touch me!" I shoved him off with everything I had.

Spencer wasn't braced for it and stumbled back a few steps.

He froze for a beat, then let out a low laugh.

"What are you so nervous about? You don't actually think I'm into you, do you?"

He bent down, unhurried, and picked his shirt up off the floor, doing up the buttons while he looked me over.

"We're both adults. Had too much to drink, things got out of hand. That's all."

"Relax. It's only ever been Selma for me. I came to you because I think of you as a buddy."

I was dragging in air, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

Spencer didn't notice. He gave a sly little smile.

"Still, good thing you pushed me off."

"Even with Selma running out on the wedding, I shouldn't do anything to wrong her."

In my past life, the crash had cost me my legs and left me with severe trauma on top of it.

Now my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"So sleeping with me was just about getting your urges out of your system? And that doesn't wrong me at all?"

He hesitated, then that same flippant look came back over his face.

"We've known each other more than ten years. You think I don't know you?"

"You're tough. Thick-skinned. What is there to be scared of?"

My breath caught.

That year in high school, he said I was out of shape and needed to train, and dragged me onto the basketball team.

To keep from spoiling it for him, I forced my way past the asthma I'd had for years.

And now that was his excuse to use me however he liked whenever he needed to let off steam.

"Then what about Selma?"

I pressed him, wanting an answer to everything I'd swallowed in my past life.

The smile dropped off his face, and he turned deadly serious.

"Don't put yourself in the same sentence as Selma. She isn't that kind of cheap girl."

I gave a bitter laugh. In the end, this conversation had handed me the one answer I least wanted to hear.

"Spencer Sterling, you make me sick."

I pushed through the door and dialed Selma's number.

"Your fiancé's at the hotel. Come get him, before you go accusing me of taking advantage of him."

I made my unsteady way back to the apartment Spencer and I had shared for five years.

The throw pillow on the couch was the one he'd shoved at me while he stayed up helping me finish my thesis.

"Don't push yourself if you're worn out. Even if you don't graduate, I can find you a spot at the company."

"And if anyone gives you grief, show them this pillow. Tell them you're mine."

I couldn't catch the rest of what he said back then. I only knew the pillow had cartoon versions of the two of us printed on it.

The two little figures looked like a couple, a heart-shaped bubble floating between them.

I thought following him to New York for college would mean we'd finally end up together.

But before either of us could say the words out loud, he met Selma.

After that, my love for him was something I could never say, and could never bring myself to walk away from.

I packed everything up in one go and called the landlord to break the lease. On the other end of the line, he hesitated before speaking.

"Miss Harding, the truth is Mr. Sterling bought this apartment a long time ago."

"He paid an extra two hundred grand on top of it, just so I'd route your rent back onto another one of your cards."

"He said you'd never move out."

Something turned over in my chest. After graduation, I'd stayed in New York to work.

Spencer was the one who decided to rent me this place, right near his.

I told him I couldn't afford it. He just grinned at me.

"I'll cover half the rent. Don't argue. That way, when I fight with my family, I've got somewhere to crash."

I was about to say living that close would bother Selma, but he cut me off before I could.

"Listen to me. You're out here on your own. The closer you are, the more I can look after you."

It wasn't until we married, in my last life, that I learned he'd already bought Selma a house.

That was just how he was. Good to Selma, and good to me too.

But I never once did anything to come between them. I just couldn't bring myself to leave.

Before long, the messages from Spencer started pouring in.

"You want out of the lease? Are you done making a scene?"

"After everything between us, you're really going to fall out with me over something this small?"

"I know you too well, Frieda. Three days, tops, and you'll have cooled off."

"Just don't come crying to me later when you've got nowhere to go."

I was about to power off the phone when another message landed.

"Hold on. You said there's someone you like. That wasn't supposed to be me, was it?"

"Even if I actually did sleep with you, you'd never be more than a bedmate to me."

"Selma and I have made up. You try anything, and I won't let it slide."

I laughed at myself. In my last life, he really hadn't let it slide.

But this time, I didn't want to be the woman I'd been.

I opened the message from my best friend.

"The director's very happy with you. He's agreed to the deputy manager position. Are you coming or not?"

"Or is it that you're stuck on Spencer Sterling and can't bear to leave?"

In my last life, this was the exact message Spencer saw, the one that convinced him I was wrecking his relationship with Selma.

This time, I didn't hesitate. I replied:

"Tell the director I accept the offer. The sooner the better."

"And tell him I don't love him anymore."

Once I'd decided, I went into the office first thing the next morning and handed in my resignation.

HR eyed me, skeptical.

"This trick again?"

"Heard Miss Cobb ran out on the wedding, so now you're playing hard to get to stir the pot?"

The gossip about me at this company had never once let up.

When I graduated, I'd interviewed somewhere else, precisely to keep my distance.

I never imagined Spencer would simply call them up and have me transferred to him.

"Are you out of your mind? A pretty girl like you, working at someone else's company? They'd drown you in talk."

"Just come work for me. I can protect you."

But when one of Selma's friends decided I was the other woman and spat in my face,

he didn't say a single word in my defense.

"We're just friends. People misread it because we're close. Don't lower yourself to her level."

His refusal to deny it was taken as confirmation. And so Selma ran out on the wedding for the first time.

That night, Spencer drank himself blind.

"Why did Selma run? Are we even still together, or is it understood that we're done?"

That was the first time he pinned me to the floor.

My face went hot, and somewhere in it, faintly, I heard him saying Selma's name.

"Frieda?"

HR slid the stamped paperwork across to me.

"Hand off your work first. Once Mr. Sterling signs, you're free to go."

"Got it!" I gave a polite smile and set the resignation request inside Spencer's office.

Outside the door, coworkers whispered.

"You think it's Frieda hanging on Mr. Sterling that's got Miss Cobb refusing to marry him?"

"Run out on the wedding that many times? If you ask me, this Selma's got someone on the side."

"Say whatever you want about anyone, but never Selma. Do it again and you're fired." The deep, magnetic voice cut the air short.

When I stepped out, I ran straight into Spencer with his arm around Selma.

The instant our eyes met, panic flickered across his face. He quickly shielded Selma's view and signaled for me to disappear.

Only after Selma was gone did he corner me in the break room.

"What were you doing in my office?"

"I finally got Selma calmed down. Don't go stirring things up again."

"How exactly am I stirring things up? Weren't you the one who started it?" I shot back.

He had no answer for that.

"I was drunk. Forget it, I won't hold it against you."

"I'm setting up a dinner tonight. You're going to explain to Selma that nothing happened between us."

That was exactly what I wanted, so I nodded.

He left satisfied, then turned back as something occurred to him.

"It's going to rain today. Remember to put the ointment on your leg, or it'll start aching again."

For a moment I drifted, as if I were back at the first time he got left at the altar.

After I'd stopped him from going any further, I'd hauled that six-foot man,

all the way back to the home he shared with Selma.

I was only a few steps short when my body suddenly gave out from under me, my knee slamming hard onto the stone steps.

The bone cracked. The pain was so bad they had to put me under at the hospital before I could sleep.

I woke to an empty room, and a post on his feed about making up with Selma.

"He knows to come home. That's enough for me."

The tears fell. I couldn't bear to let him go, and still I wished him well.

But that night he left the fiancée he'd just reconciled with and sat by me at the hospital till morning.

"You got hurt because of me. How could I forget what matters the second a pretty face shows up? Selma will understand."

After that, every rainy day, he came to put the ointment on for me.

I had too many projects on my plate, and before I knew it the workday was over.

Spencer rapped his knuckles on my desk.

"Let's go. Selma's agreed to hear you out."

The drive to the restaurant was strangely heavy. Spencer wasn't cracking his usual jokes either.

The moment we sat down, I hurried the hotel security footage over to Selma.

"Selma, I only walked him into the room and left in under five minutes."

"Nothing really happened between us."

"And I've already resigned. I'm leaving to work abroad soon."

"I won't be in your way anymore."

Her expression was complicated. She sighed.

"Forget it. So where are you headed next?"

"Headed where?" Spencer came back from parking the car and slid an affectionate arm around Selma's shoulders.

"She's not going anywhere. There's no one over there she cares about." He winked at me.

I turned my face away. There was no one here I cared about anymore, either.

Halfway through the meal he swapped the main dish from his own set with Selma's, smiling at her with that doting look.

"Selma doesn't eat shrimp, but the soup that comes with this set is the one thing she loves!"

He didn't eat shrimp either, which was why, after we married in my last life, I never cooked it again.

And right up to the day I died, he never remembered I was allergic to caffeine.

So it turns out love and the lack of it really are obvious.

I raised my hand and had the server take away the coffee he'd ordered for me.

Just then, a server bringing dishes to the next table lost their grip and tipped over a pot of scalding chili oil.

The heavy stainless steel basin hit the floor with a deafening crash.

"Ah!"

The terror came rushing back. I clutched my head, shaking all over, not even noticing the arm that had been scalded red.

"Miss, are you all right? Get up, let me take you to the restroom to run cold water on it."

I don't know how long it lasted before the server's gentle voice pulled me back to reality.

Only then did I see Spencer, shielding an unharmed Selma and comforting her over and over.

He hadn't spared me a single glance, as if I were a stranger at the next table.