Thirty and Single.

Chapter 21.

Weeks had passed without a single word from Colton.

We worked in the same building, yet he moved like a ghost in my world. Whenever he spotted me in the hallway, he'd immediately change direction as if I carried a contagious disease. No greeting. No glance. Just... distance.

It hurt more than I was willing to admit.

There had been a time his gaze made my stomach flutter. Now, his avoidance carved holes into my chest. We'd gone from passion to strangers and yet, somehow, I was still tethered to him.

Meanwhile, Corey and I were becoming... something.

We'd gone on a few dates, sweet, thoughtful evenings where he listened, paid attention, remembered the little things. I'd visited his house more than once, and every time, his family welcomed me like I belonged. He was patient. He was present.

He was perfect.

But my heart? My heart hadn't gotten the memo. It still whispered Colton's name when I tried to sleep at night.

"Genesis, do you already have the dress for tonight?" Brooklyn's voice jolted me from my spiral. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "You can't show up to Quinn's book launch looking like a corporate zombie."

"I really don't know what to wear," I admitted, sighing. The last thing I wanted was to go to some formal dinner where I had to smile through clenched teeth especially knowing Colton would be there.

"Then we're going shopping. End of discussion," Brooklyn said with a grin.

Minutes later, we were in her car, driving to the mall like we used to in college, laughing, singing, trying not to crash while arguing over which outfit screamed "I'm thriving without you."

After what felt like hours of hunting and rejecting racks of dresses, I found it.

A green Versace ruched satin gown, hugging all the right places, flowing like silk dreams. It made me feel powerful. Unapologetic.

Brooklyn chose a pink plunging V-neck dress, bold and radiant, just like her.

"You're coming over to my place to get ready," she declared.

As always, she took over the hair and makeup. When we were done, we looked like we'd stepped out of a fashion editorial. Our heels clicked on the pavement with purpose as we arrived at the venue.

And there he was.

Corey.

Waiting by the entrance, dressed in a grey tuxedo that moulded to his frame like it had been sewn onto him. His face lit up the second he saw me.

"Wow..." he breathed as he walked over, eyes raking over me with awe. He pulled me into a warm embrace and kissed the top of my head.

"You look beautiful, gorgeous," he whispered into my ear, and heat flushed my cheeks.

"You don't look bad yourself," I murmured back.

We walked in together, hand in hand.

Inside, the room glittered with soft candlelight, laughter, clinking glasses, and the polished voices of Quinn's literary guests. We were seated at a round table with six others, including Logan, who had just returned to town. He plopped down next to Brooklyn, already teasing her about her dress.

It was all going so well.

Until it wasn't.

The doors opened again and the air shifted.

Colton entered, dressed in black-on-black elegance, a woman on his arm. She was tall, raven-haired, and draped in a red gown so tight it looked painted on. Her eyes scanned the room and then zeroed in on me.