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Five days.

Five days of calls.

Five days of meeting Selma in the hallway while she livesathis apartment.

Five days of crying with Oliver in my arms.

And finally, on Saturday at four in the morning, there’s a knock on my door. Actually, it’s more of a pounding.

I know exactly who it is, and I don’t answer it. I don’t want to hear his lame excuse as to why he didn’t feel the need to tell me he was engaged to be married.

“Open the goddamn door, Amalie!” Tathan shouts, slamming his hand on the door. And then I hear him talking to someone, actually yelling at someone.

Peeking through the peephole, I see him standing there, looking like hot hell, and his hand wrapped around Selma’s upper arm, scowling at her.

“Why’d you fucking show up here and make her believe we’re still together?”

Holding my breath until I feel like my lungs are going to burst, I stand on wobbly legs waiting for her answer.

Selma stutters, probably tired. “Jesus, Tathan. I didn’t know you’d moved on so quickly.” It looks like he ripped her straight from bed, wearing his clothes.

His scowl deepens. “So quickly? We’ve been broken up for over a year. Remember? I caught you in bed with another guy.”

Selma rips her arm from his grasp. “It was an accident.”

“Whatever it was. . . it meant we were over.”

My heart leaps in my chest. It was over between them? So. . . he didn’t lie?

I rip the door open. “What do you want?”

Tathan’s eyes snap to mine, fire flaring in them. “Five days. I’ve been calling you nonstop for five fucking days.” He smacks his hand at Selma, knocking her shoulder lightly. “She isnotmy fiancée. She’s a lying whore who slept with my friend. In. My. Bed.”

I glare at Selma but say nothing. I want to punch her in the face. How dare she hurt him and lie to me. But then again, when my eyes meet the tired man beside her, why’d I believe her so easily and not the one who’d made me a deal to fall in love with him?

There’s a water trickling sound, like, well, pee. In shock, Selma looks down at her feet. “Oh my God! Your stupid dog peed on me.”

No one calls Oliver stupid!

“He doesn’t like women.”

“You’re a woman,” Selma points out, looking like she’s going to vomit.

“I’m his mom.”

And get this, when Oliver spots Tathan, he wiggles and rubs up against his legs. Traitor.

Reaching down to ruffle his floppy ears, Tathan smiles at him.

Selma huffs out a breath and stomps back to Tathan’s apartment.

“You have five minutes to get the fuck out of there,” Tathan tells her over his shoulder. With a gentle push, he shoves me back in my apartment and locks the door behind him. “We need to talk, and you’re not ignoring me this time.”

Defiantly, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t have to do what you say.”

“Yes, you do. You fucking drove mecrazythis week. I. . . .” He pauses, dropping his bags at my feet. Goddamn, angry Tathan is just. . . fuck. I have no words. But he does and continues with, “Youhave no idea.”

“Youhave no idea.” I can be such a brat sometimes.