Updated Mar 13, 2026 • ~9 min read
Nine minutes and thirty seconds.
That’s how long we have to erase all evidence that I live here.
I grab armfuls of clothes and shove them into my suitcase. Holden is stripping the bed, replacing my floral pillowcases with plain white ones he apparently keeps in the hall closet for exactly this kind of emergency.
“Why do you have emergency guest pillowcases?!” I hiss.
“Noah’s stayed over before! I keep spares!”
“Of course you do!”
I yank my makeup and toiletries from the bathroom. There’s so much. How do I own this much stuff? I throw it all into a bag and toss it in the closet.
“Seven minutes,” Holden says, checking his phone.
My laptop is still on the desk. I grab it. Then my charger. Then the stack of wedding magazines I left on the nightstand.
“Trash,” Holden says, pointing to the wastebasket.
It’s full of tissues and an empty face mask packet. Very obviously feminine trash.
I dump it in the kitchen trash and replace the bag.
“Five minutes.”
The room is looking better. More generic. But there are still signs everywhere. Hair ties on the bathroom counter. My favorite candle on the dresser. My slippers by the bed.
We scramble to hide it all.
“Three minutes.”
“Oh my God, oh my God—”
“Tessa, breathe.”
“I am breathing! This is me breathing!”
I grab the slippers and throw them in the closet. Holden grabs the candle. We do a final sweep of the room.
It looks… okay. Not perfect. But okay.
Like a guest room that hasn’t been used in a while.
“Two minutes. Where are you going to hide?”
“What?”
“Tessa, you can’t be here when he shows up!”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t know! Your room!”
“This IS my room!”
“Then—” Holden looks around frantically. “The bedroom. My bedroom. Go.”
“Won’t he think it’s weird that I’m in your bedroom?”
“He won’t know you’re there! Just stay quiet!”
There’s a knock on the door.
We both freeze.
“Shit,” Holden whispers. “He’s early.”
“What do we do?”
“You hide. I’ll stall.”
Another knock. Louder. “Holden? You there, man?”
Holden grabs my hand and pulls me toward his bedroom. I’ve never been in here. Haven’t had a reason to.
It’s… surprisingly tidy. King bed with a navy comforter. Minimal furniture. Very Holden.
“Stay here,” he whispers. “Don’t make a sound.”
“What if he wants to see your room?”
“Why would he want to see my room?”
“I don’t know! What if he does?”
“Then hide in the closet!”
“The CLOSET?!”
“TESSA. Stay. Here.”
He kisses me quickly and closes the door.
I hear his footsteps retreat. The front door open.
“Hey, bro!” Holden’s voice, artificially cheerful. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry to just show up.” Noah’s voice. Closer now. They must be in the living room. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”
“Phone’s on silent. What’s up? You said it was urgent?”
I press my ear against the door.
“Yeah. It’s about…” Noah trails off. “Can we sit?”
“Sure. Want a beer?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Silence. The sound of them settling on the couch.
“So,” Noah says. “I need to talk to you about something. And it’s going to sound crazy.”
Oh God. He knows. He somehow knows.
“Okay?” Holden says carefully.
“It’s about Vegas.”
My heart stops.
“What about Vegas?”
“Something’s been bugging me. About that weekend. You disappeared Saturday night. Said you met a girl.”
“Yeah?”
“But when I asked the guys, they said you left with some woman from Tessa’s bachelorette party. They saw you two at the blackjack table together.”
I can’t breathe.
“Your point?” Holden’s voice is steady. Calm.
“My point is… were you hitting on my sister?”
Silence.
“Noah—”
“Because I specifically told you, years ago, that Tessa is off-limits. We’ve been friends for how long? Ten years? And the one thing I asked—the ONE thing—was that you stay away from her.”
“I know.”
“So were you? Hitting on her in Vegas?”
“No.”
The lie is immediate. Practiced.
But it still hits me like a punch.
“You swear?” Noah presses. “Because if something happened—”
“Nothing happened.” Holden’s voice is firm. “I ran into her at the casino. We talked for maybe five minutes. Then I left. That’s it.”
“The guys said you two looked pretty friendly.”
“We were being civil. For your sake. That’s all.”
More silence.
I’m holding my breath.
“Okay,” Noah says finally. “Okay. I believe you.”
“Why are you bringing this up now? Vegas was two weeks ago.”
“I know. It’s just—” Noah sighs. “Margot saw those photos. From the gallery opening. She said you looked different. Happier. And she wondered if maybe you’d met someone.”
“I did meet someone.”
My heart skips.
“You did?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Sarah. She’s a consultant. We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.”
Sarah.
He just gave me a fake name.
“That’s great, man,” Noah says, and he sounds genuinely happy. “It’s about time you settled down.”
“I don’t know about settled. We’re just seeing where it goes.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. And hey, maybe we can all have dinner sometime. You and Sarah, me and Margot. Double date.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I can hear the strain in Holden’s voice.
“So things are good?” Noah asks. “With you?”
“Things are great.”
“And you’ll tell me if anything changes? With Tessa or anything?”
“Noah, nothing is happening with Tessa. I promise.”
Another lie.
And this one hurts more than the first.
“Okay. Good.” Noah stands. I can hear movement. “I should go. Margot’s waiting. Just wanted to check in.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“Oh, and hey—do you have my gym bag? I think I left it here last time.”
“Your gym bag?”
“Yeah. Blue Nike one. I swear I left it in the spare room.”
My blood turns to ice.
The spare room. My room. Where we just spent ten minutes erasing all evidence of me.
“Let me check,” Holden says.
Footsteps. Heading toward my room.
I hear the door open. A pause.
“Don’t see it,” Holden calls out.
“Can I look? I really need it. My running shoes are in there.”
“Sure.”
No no no no no.
More footsteps. Noah is in my room. Looking around.
I’m frozen in Holden’s bedroom, barely breathing, praying we didn’t miss anything.
“Huh,” Noah says. “Could’ve sworn I left it here.”
“Maybe it’s at your place?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” A pause. “This room smells different.”
My heart stops.
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Like… perfume?”
“Probably the cleaning lady. She uses some kind of scented spray.”
“Since when do you have a cleaning lady?”
“Since I got tired of living in filth?”
Noah laughs. “Fair enough.”
More footsteps. The door closing.
They’re heading back to the living room.
“Alright, I’m out,” Noah says. “Thanks for letting me vent.”
“Anytime.”
“And seriously—I’m happy for you. About Sarah.”
“Thanks, bro.”
The front door opens. Closes.
Silence.
I wait. One minute. Two. Making sure Noah is really gone.
Finally, Holden’s bedroom door opens.
He looks exhausted.
“He’s gone,” he says.
I burst into tears.
“Hey hey hey—” Holden immediately pulls me into his arms. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
“You lied to him.”
“I had to.”
“You said nothing happened in Vegas. You said you’re seeing someone named Sarah.”
“Tessa—”
“You erased me. Again.”
“I didn’t erase you. I’m protecting you. Protecting us.”
“By lying to your best friend?”
“By keeping him from freaking out before we’re ready to tell him the truth!”
I pull away. “And when will we be ready? We keep saying ‘soon’ but we’re no closer to actually telling him!”
“Because it’s complicated!”
“Everything is complicated!”
We’re both breathing hard. Staring at each other.
“I hate this,” I say quietly. “I hate hiding. I hate lying. I hate that you have to pretend I’m someone named Sarah instead of your actual wife.”
“You think I like it?” Holden runs a hand through his hair. “You think I enjoy lying to my best friend? Pretending the woman I’m—” He stops. Shakes his head.
“The woman you’re what?”
“Nothing.”
“Holden—”
“We need to tell him.” His voice is firm. Decided. “Soon. Before this gets worse.”
“He’ll lose his mind.”
“Probably. But it’s better than this. Better than lying and hiding and almost getting caught.”
He’s right.
I know he’s right.
“Okay,” I say. “We tell him. This week.”
“This week?”
“Before I lose my nerve.”
Holden nods. Steps closer. Takes my face in his hands.
“Whatever happens,” he says quietly, “we’ll handle it together. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He kisses my forehead. Then my nose. Then my lips.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s put your room back together.”
We spend the next hour unpacking everything we frantically hid. Remaking the bed. Putting my slippers back. My candle. My favorite pillowcases.
Making my room mine again.
When we’re done, I collapse on the bed.
Holden sits next to me.
“That was too close,” I say.
“Way too close.”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
“I know.”
My phone buzzes. I check it.
It’s a text from Noah: “Thanks again for being cool earlier. Love you, bro.”
I show it to Holden.
His face does something complicated.
“He’s going to hate us,” I whisper.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.”
That word again. Together.
I lean my head on his shoulder.
“This is the worst fake marriage ever,” I mutter.
“Good thing it’s becoming a real one.”
I smile despite everything. “Good thing.”
We sit there for a while. Processing. Planning. Dreading.
Because in a few days, we’re going to tell Noah the truth.
And everything is going to change.
END OF CHAPTER 10 / END OF ACT ONE
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