JENNIE

Davena's funeral had been like every other funeral before it. I'd sat in a pew, staring forward as Taehyung had clasped my hand in his. At some point I'd looked over to find him in tears, but with my hands lifeless in my lap, and with no words, I'd just returned my eyes to the front. My only moment of reality had been when Mack—Davena's husband and my godfather—had hugged me. He'd squeezed the breath from my lungs, holding me too tightly. And when he'd let go, I'd felt nothing again.

She'd been predictably lovely in her open casket, with heavy makeup and untamed, sheared blonde hair. Cancer had not tainted her in life nor in death. I'd wondered how she hadn't even looked vulnerable in that position; I wouldn't have been surprised if her eyes had popped open, and she'd invited me to Sunda for a cocktail.

But she hadn't. And eventually they'd eased the coffin closed and taken her away. Back at their place, Mack had done his best to turn the reception into a celebration of her life, but the pain in his eyes had been searing. Unavoidable, even when I'd looked away. The kind of bottomless void only the loss of a soulmate could inspire.

We'd left early.

Although my belief in the afterlife was dubious, I sometimes prayed to Davena for relief. In my head, I confessed everything—that I was a sinner, an adulterer, and a liar. That I only felt remorse for deceiving Taehyung, not for the crime itself. Sometimes I believed maybe she heard me. Sometimes I imagined she would make everything right.

"Did you look at the article yet?" Wendy, my toxic co-worker, glared at me from the doorway of my office, arms crossed, lips drawn.

Her words rattled in my head a moment as I shifted back to reality. Otherwise known as a workweek morning. "Which one?"

She exhaled her annoyance. "The guide to Logan Square."

"It's on your desk already," I said.

"Oh." Wendy pivoted and stalked away, revealing my assistant behind her, who sported shorter, blonder hair than she'd had yesterday.

"Wendy's always super grouchy on Friday morning," Yuna said with a comforting smile. "And Monday. And Tuesday. Wednesday, too . . . you get the idea."

"Where'd your hair go?" I asked about her pink-tipped blonde bob.

"I'm taking a cue from Hollywood and embracing the pixie cut." Yuna ran a hand through the short strands. "What do you think?"

"Cute," I remarked, turning back to my computer.

"So, boss lady, are you excited for this weekend?"

I blinked my attention back to her. Yuna had taken to calling me "boss" since her recent promotion from intern to assistant editor.

"The wedding?" She prompted. "Are you looking forward to it?"

I nodded. "Jisoo's been daydreaming about this for as long as I've known her. Even though she had to pull the wedding together quickly, I have no doubt it'll be impressive."

"I love weddings, I mean they are just, so romantic, and everyone is just, like, so happy to be there." Yuna sighed wistfully. "And it's supposed to be a gorgeous weekend, I mean—"

"Yuna," I said, rubbing my brow, "I'm really swamped here."

"Oh. Sorry. Actually, I have an idea I want to run by you."

"Shoot," I said while tapping out a quick e-mail.

"It's about the 'Chicago's Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes' issue—"

I froze mid-keystroke. "What?"

"Well, um—I was thinking we could do a follow-up piece on the website. I'm sure the people we featured, like, went on dates and stuff." Yuna's tone faltered as I stared at her. "Maybe some of them even found relationships because of the article. We could even do a teeny-tiny column in the mag next month catching up with—"

"No, that won't work." I shook my head rapidly. "Let's try to come up with some new concepts, not beat the crap out of old ones."

"Oh, okay, cool. I like that, too."

She lingered a second longer and then scurried away. I hadn't meant to shut her down, but I couldn't risk a run-in with Bachelorette Number Three. I didn't trust myself in the presence of Lisa Manoban's irresistible charm.

I'd gotten lucky at the launch party for the "Most Eligible" issue two months earlier. Every bachelor and bachelorette had shown up to the event, the best in the magazine's history. Except for Lisa Manoban. I'd overheard Lisa say that she'd accepted a job in New York and absolutely could not attend, even though she'd begged her. Knowing she was out of town was no more painful than knowing she wasn't right next to me. She was gone forever, and the physical distance wouldn't change that.

I hadn't been able to ignore her presence at the party, though. Despite her non-attendance, her smiling photo, which had far outshone the other attendees' pictures, had been everywhere. Lisa had gleefully taken over Lisa's segment for me, and the way she'd styled the photo shoot, it could have been an ad for any top menswear designer. Lisa was all teeth and hard muscles in a three-piece suit Jisoo had sold her. Clutching her jacket casually at her side, she'd been the epitome of roguish businessman.

I'd given my boss the issue for final approval without ever proofing Lisa's spread. The wounds had been too fresh. Even now, I still hadn't had the heart, or the guts, to read about Lisa Manoban—wealthy, charming, and gorgeous Chicago bachelorette. Everyone's dream catch.

I got up, locked my office door, and allowed myself a moment to lie down on the couch, thankful for my sweater to block the blasting A/C unit above.

I was so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should've felt over cheating with Lisa, it only came in fleeting waves.

I recalled Lisa's hands in my hair, her breath on my skin, her mouth between my breasts . . .

Just fucking stop, I pleaded with myself. I have to forget, please. I can't do this anymore.

The reason I didn't feel was because I didn't want to, not because I couldn't. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. The guilt was already a steady drip through my system, seeping into the cracks of my interior.

My office phone rang, shredding through my thoughts. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that never let me down, never judged or condemned me.

I returned to my desk and hit the speakerphone button. "Jennie Kim."

"What time is the bachelorette party tonight?" Taehyung's voice filled the office.

"Um." I wiggled my mouse to wake up the computer. "Seven, I think. When's Bohyun's?"

"Same. Think you can get off a little early? I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I repeated cautiously.

"Yeah, can you?"

"I don't know." I rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen. "I'm sort of backed up here."

"Please?" he said. "I'm really excited."

I'd promised Rosé I'd try harder, at least through the end of this weekend. "Okay," I said. "Sure."

"I'll pick you up downstairs at two," Taehyung said. "Love you."

On a street-facing concrete bench, I waited on the sidewalk outside of my office building for Taehyung, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. He pulled up to the curb blasting Bon Jovi—he was in a good mood.

"Hey," he said when I climbed into the passenger's seat. "Ready for your surprise?"

He'd made an effort. I needed to as well. I nodded and took his hand.

He squeezed mine. "It's a bit of a drive, so sit back and relax."

As we discussed the impending bachelor and bachelorette parties, it became evident we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It was only once we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.

We'd made this same drive months earlier in our realtor Jeanine's car. My hands began to sweat as we got closer and closer to the final two-story house we'd looked at back in May.

"Don't get any grand ideas," Taehyung warned.

Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause after Davena's death. I recalled the afternoon with Jeanine—the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery, and the ensuing argument where Taehyung had tried to convince me that we were ready for children. That house had sold, though, he'd told me bitterly back in June. Unless it had fallen through, and . . .

Oh, no. Don't let the surprise be a house. Would he go that far?

Our talk of moving out of the city to start a family had also come to a screeching halt months ago.

My heart began to thump as he pulled up to the curb and parked in the same spot we had with Jeanine.

"Taehyung—"

"No, no," he stopped me. "Just wait." We both climbed out of the car, and he turned around. "I've been working on this with Jeanine for a while."

Working on what? Taehyung wasn't facing the two-story house we'd visited last time. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.

It was still as ugly and unkempt as before. Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Gray stone crumbled in some spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw it had months ago. The same endearing and imposing character that had appealed to me the first time I'd seen it. A house that said, you can't ignore me, no matter how hard you try .

"The owners are big shots in Hollywood," Taehyung explained, "who don't even care about the property. They told Jeanine they'd be willing to sell it for a steal because of the poor shape. Since they rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us."

I looked from Taehyung to the house. He'd remembered my comments that day. The house Jeanine had shown us had seemed so boring compared to this one.

To my surprise, I smiled. "Wow. Honey, this is so thoughtful."

He rubbed his jaw. "Listen, it would be a lot of effort, and we'd probably have to stay in the apartment another year or so, but . . . I just can't stand to see you this way anymore. I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes, then we'll do it." It was hard to ignore the sadness that laced his voice. I'd been punishing both of us for my crime, but it was the first time I realized just how much he was hurting.

I loved what he'd done for me, so I took his hand. "Let's go see the inside."

The interior was almost empty with the exception of some covered pieces of furniture and an antique grandfather clock as tall as Taehyung. The main room's greatest feature was a toss-up between the expansive, central fireplace and a ribbon of windows that made up the back wall separating the backyard.

The sprawling wood floor creaked with each step, and despite the cold, harsh innards, I could tell the house must've been very warm once. Dust caked the surfaces and dead insects scattered the floor. I stepped into a decent-sized backyard overrun with weeds and in dire need of some attention. But it was large enough for outdoor entertaining, and I envisioned strung Chinese paper lanterns, a concrete and rock bar, rosebushes, a trickling fountain . . .

When I reentered the house, Taehyung stood with his hands into his pockets. He inspected the stairway railing and kicked at a loose floorboard. The corners of his mouth tugged, suggesting a frown. I scanned the room around him. Honey-colored flooring would complement the warm light that flooded from antique lamps. Heavy, earthy furniture made of oak and aged leather would fill the open floor plan.

And, yet . . . something felt off, though I wasn't sure what. The house had potential, and I was already wondering what it looked like in the early morning when the light was just starting to filter in. Still, I struggled to complete the picture. The house didn't fit Taehyung's taste for the traditional at all.

"What do you think?" Taehyung asked.

Seconds passed. I could hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe once we overhauled it and made it into the beautiful place I knew it could be, things would be different. They had to be. Taehyung had been right all along. It wasn't going to be perfect right away or maybe ever. It would take time for it to feel like home.

I took a step backward and pointed to the second floor. "Upstairs?"

I followed as he carefully climbed the noisy steps. The master bedroom, located at one end of the hall, was surprisingly spacious—bigger than any others we'd seen, which would appeal to Taehyung. It had a large, unobstructed view of the backyard thanks to a corner window.

He reported that there were two more rooms down the hall. I nodded, taking his words in but still studying him. "Can we afford it, really?"

"Not sure," he said honestly. "The house, yes. But the remodel? It's outside our budget, I'm sure, even if I bonus. It would mean cutting back on some things for a while."

"Is this what you want?"

He squinted his eyes while running his tongue over his front teeth. "I don't know how I feel about taking on a project of this magnitude while we're both so busy. But I really want to get out of the city, and I want you to love your new home."

It was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for me. I shifted, and a floorboard groaned beneath me. The bedroom grew darker as clouds passed over the sun, and I blinked at his disappearing silhouette. "Okay," I said. "Yes. Let's do it." I crossed the room and hugged him close for an overdue moment of intimacy. We walked to the stairs arm in arm before separating to descend.

--

In a noisy restaurant downtown, Jisoo squealed with delight as she accepted an overstuffed party bag from Rosé's roommate Bethany, who had a playful gleam in her eye.

We were ten girls at one long table, egging Jisoo on as she unwrapped gifts between sips of her pink Cosmo.

"Oh, God." Jisoo groaned as she pulled out a pink, feathered tiara with the word Bachelorette branded across the front.

"You're wearing that now, and you're wearing this, too," said Jisoo's sister, Irene, placing a necklace with mini phallic-shaped candies around Jisoo's neck.

"Irene!" Jisoo said. "It's definitely inappropriate for my sister to be draping me in penises."

Irene, a slightly wilder version of her conservative sister, cleared a mass of her brown, glossy ringlets from her shoulder. "It is perfectly appropriate."

I picked up a green gummy penis and popped it into my mouth before scrunching up my nose. "Sour apple," I said and picked up a napkin. "Yuck."

"Oh, don't you dare spit that out, Jennie Kim," Rosé scolded, waving a finger at me. "You will swallow that penis."

I laughed and gulped the candy down with exaggeration before chasing it with my Cosmo.

I sat between Jisoo and Rosé as Irene, maid of honor and official party planner, stood to raise her glass. "There will be no toast tonight because between the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, I'm running out of material. Jisoo is too well-behaved, and there aren't enough naughty stories to go around. There's only one decent one from high school, involving her bedroom window and a football jock named Jack, but I'm saving that for the big night."

"Irene, no!" Jisoo cried, her face a veritable bright red. "You wouldn't."

"I'm teasing, sis. That story isn't nearly exciting enough for a wedding toast anyway." Irene laughed and turned to us. "Please raise your glasses for my non-toast, and let's get this party underway."

"I can't believe you're getting married in two days," Rosé said to Jisoo, leaning over my lap.

"Me neither," she replied. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'll be glad when it's over. It's been so much work."

"Yes, it has, but you've done an amazing job in only a few months," I reassured her. "Sunday's going to be beautiful."

"It'd better be," Jisoo said. "What are you doing about a date, Sé? You RSVP'd plus one, so you must bring a plus one."

"Actually, I'm just going to bring my brother," Rosé said. "Is that cool?"

"Why don't you have a date?" I asked skeptically.

"No reason," Rosé responded with a shrug.

Come to think of it, I hadn't heard Rosé talk about her love life in a while. Not since . . . three months ago. "Hey, whatever happened with Mingyu Ayers?" I said, embarrassed I'd forgotten to ask.

"Who?" Rosé asked.

"Mingyu, the bachelor photographer I introduced you to at the magazine's Meet and Greet at the Gryphon Hotel."

Irene exchanged a glance with Jisoo, then whispered something in her ear. I thought I picked up the word Gryphon .

"Oh, that guy?" Rosé fake-gagged. "No. Yuck."

"Yuck?" I frowned. "Mingyu is hot. He's, like, freaking Hemsworth hot, if you're into blonds—which you are."

"Agreed," she said, "but he's a pretentious prick."

"Oh," I said with surprise. "I don't think so at all."

She shrugged. "Then you fuck him."

Rosé's roommates, Ava and Bethany, giggled from across the table, but I could only look into my drink to hide my reddening face.

"Who are you bringing, Irene?" Ava asked.

"This one I've just started seeing," Jisoo's sister replied with a half-smile.

"You live in Milwaukee, right?" Bethany asked. "Is this one driving in tomorrow?"

"Actually, she lives here," Jisoo interjected. "Weirdly, of all places—at the Gryphon."

I lifted my head as the world slowed around me. I only knew one person who lived in a hotel. At the top. Someone whose presence could barely be contained by a penthouse.

"You guys met her at my engagement party," Jisoo said to Rosé and me. "Lisa Manoban."

No. With the way our end of the table went completely silent, I was sure they could hear my heart hit the ground.

Lisa. My Lisa. She was now Irene's Lisa?

"It's still new," Jisoo added, "which is why I haven't mentioned it."

Ava's eyebrows knit. Bethany reminded her Lisa was "that tall, and gorgeous hunk of meat from the restaurant grand opening we attended in May" before declaring she was "supremely jealous."

I fielded a sidelong glance from Rosé. She hadn't mentioned Lisa since the night I'd confessed my feelings to her. Not that I'd let our conversations go that way. She didn't know what I'd done, but I hated that she knew anything at all.

"You . . . you lucky bitch," Rosé joked awkwardly. "I've had my eye on her for a while. How did that happen?"

Irene's eyes brightened. "Well, I was in town last month for some wedding planning, and Jisoo set us up. Lisa took all of us out on her sailboat ," she said, and added with a giddy grin, "no big deal, right?"

"Can you imagine having Lisa Manoban as a sister-in-law?" Jisoo asked. "I'd never stop staring!"

"Hands off," Irene said.

My stomach churned. I didn't even think I could handle running into Lisa without breaking down—now there was a chance she'd become part off my social circle?

Did this mean she was coming to the wedding?

"I'm trying to convince Irene to move to Chicago," Jisoo said, "and having her fall in love with Lisa is part of my master plan."

Irene rolled her eyes. "She acts like Milwaukee is another country."

"You're here all the time anyway," Jisoo pointed out.

I was going to be sick. I spun my wedding ring at the same pace that my mind whirred. The girl across from me was Irene. She had a petite frame and Jisoo's dark brown hair, but brown eyes like mine.

"I'll be honest, I thought Lisa was something of a womanizer," Jisoo said, "but they've been out twice, and she hasn't even made a move."

"She's such a gentleman," Irene added.

Gentleman. My insides tightened at the term, and I gripped my thighs. She was no gentleman. She was rough and harsh and callous but also tender and sweet and considerate. The memory of how she'd handled me flowed through me, and I bit my lip.

She deserved someone like Irene, didn't she? She was cute, wholesome, and spunky. And most importantly—available.

"She's flying back just to be her date," Jisoo said, and everyone twittered.

Oh God. She'd be back in my life in less than forty-eight hours. "Flying?" I asked hoarsely before I could stop myself. "From where?"

"New York," Irene answered as though the information was nothing. As if it didn't feed my starved curiosity about what she'd been doing since I'd last seen her. "She's an architect," she continued, "and she's working on a project there. Originally, she said she couldn't make it because of work, which I thought was weird because it is Labor Day weekend, but she changed her mind all of a sudden."

"I think this is the weekend." Jisoo waggled her eyebrows. "Like Lisa and Irene might finally . . . well, you know. I secretly suspect Lisa is super romantic and that she's planning something special—"

I shot up from my seat, unable to listen to another word. This didn't feel like exciting information I could secretly mull over later. The idea of Lisa and Irene together was actually sickening. "Excuse me," I said.

"Do you want company?" Rosé asked, moving to get up.

I sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to run away and cry, but my self-preservation instincts kicked in. "No. I'm fine." I gave them a big smile. "I'm actually going to call Taehyung and tell him I miss him."

The table cooed. Jisoo nearly melted in her chair.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "All this wedding talk has me feeling romantic."

I made a show of retrieving my phone and went to stand outside in the warm night. Warm, yes, but I was cold. I was always cold to the bone lately. I didn't call Taehyung as I'd said I would, but took a moment to collect myself.

Irene. And Lisa.

Me. And Taehyung.

It made perfect sense. I wondered if Lisa had even considered how it might hurt me to hear that. Surely, after all this time, she didn't consider my feelings anymore. Why should he?

And would it matter if she did? In the end, things were as they were supposed to be. Who was she to me? A mistake. A mark that could never be erased for the entirety of my marriage. Long after I'd have forgotten her, she would still remain a part of my past.

Long after I've forgotten her . . .

When will that be? How much longer until I forget?

It felt like a lifetime had passed already since that night. But though I worked hard not to think of Lisa, the way she'd made me feel persisted. How being near her, everything else would fall away. The way I'd watched her watch me with hungry eyes. Kisses, whispers, sensations in the dark.

I looked up at the night sky for a long time. In moments like these, I longed to be back in Texas, where I could lie in my dad's backyard and blanket myself with millions of stars. Tonight, there were few.

So this is how it goes.

When a prick of light shot across the sky, leaving a faint silver streak in its path, I didn't bother making a wish. I just turned and went back inside.