Chapter 1 The Best Boyfriend in the World
ONE
The Best Boyfriend in the World
April
Today was April first—her day. It was also her three-year anniversary with Chad.
She knew the jokes were coming. Every year, Chad fancied himself a comedic genius. Last year, he'd replaced her shampoo with green hair dye; she'd spent a week looking like a swamp monster.
But this year felt different. He'd been distant, "working late" at Blackwood & Co., and April was convinced he was building toward the ultimate prank: a surprise proposal.
She stepped off the elevator onto the executive floor, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble. She moved toward Chad's corner office, VP of Marketing largely thanks to having been Killian Blackwood's roommate at Princeton.
As she neared the heavy oak doors, she heard it: giggling, high-pitched and breathy. Not the sound of someone preparing a boardroom presentation.
April slowed, the cupcake box trembling slightly in her hands. Maybe it was a surprise party, she told herself Maybe the whole marketing team was inside, ready to jump out.
She reached for the handle, pushed it open, a hopeful smile forming—ready to be surprised.
She was surprised all right.
Chad wasn't alone. Brenda from HR was draped across his glass-top desk—the same desk where April had eaten lunch three days ago—skirt hiked up in what looked like an extremely hands-on onboarding procedure.
The giggling stopped.
All that remained was the hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of Chad's hips, a tempo he swore was "best for rhythm."
April knew that rhythm. Intimately.
Chad looked up. His rhythm faltered, stuttered, but didn't stop entirely, like a stalled car coasting. He gestured vaguely between himself and Brenda.
"We're testing the ergonomic limits of executive furniture! For the wellness committee—"
"Chad."
"Okay, OKAY—" He finally stopped moving.
Brenda let out a small, annoyed sigh.
"It's performance art, April. A commentary on workplace—very Banksy—"
April stared at him.
"It's April first—" Chad's face went through a terrifyingly fast structural reorganization. The panic in his eyes hit a wall and flipped into absolute, unearned enlightenment.
He threw his hands up like a magician revealing a trick.
"IT'S A PRANK, brO!"
His grin widened. Still making eye contact, pants around his ankles, like "April Fools!" was a clever pitch, and cheating could be rebranded as "innovative holiday engagement."
April didn't move.
She looked at the man she'd loved for three years. The man currently using a national holiday to justify being pants-down with the woman who handled his payroll.
"A prank," she repeated.
"Yeah! Total prank!" Chad grinned, confidence returning now that she wasn't yelling. "Man, you should've seen your face. You were so shocked, babe. You almost believed it. Happy anniversary! Gotcha!"
April looked at Brenda, who was adjusting her skirt with a smug little smirk. "Honestly, April, I was just helping Chad with his desk ergonomics. We were calibrating the lumbar support and checking the sightlines for optimal workflow. It's a professional courtesy."
April had heard enough. She turned and walked out, closing the door with a gentle click, nearly breaking into a run before remembering the bathrooms at Blackwood & Co.
were the epicenter of the corporate grapevine.
If she went there, her heartbreak would be a Slack notification before she'd finished wiping her eyes.
So she kept walking past the interns' curious glances and the mahogany walls that suddenly felt like a cage until she found the first door available—a small, dark supply closet near the service elevator—and slipped inside.
Twelve dollars for a hand-piped heart and #1 BF in looping script. She'd believed—actually believed—he was building toward a proposal.
The cupcake sat on the shelf next to industrial-strength floor wax. Perfect. Untouched. Stupid.
She'd thought he was going to propose.
April's breath hitched, her ribs felt too tight.
He was fucking Brenda on his desk and April had walked three blocks in heels with a cupcake that said #1 BF.
The laugh that came out was ugly.
"I am a fool," she whispered into the dark that smelled of lemon bleach and unrequited effort. "April Feuller. Biggest fool of all." She leaned against the metal shelving and let the tears fall.
???
She allowed herself to wallow for exactly five minutes. She checked her watch—a gift from Chad that she was now fairly certain was a knock-off—then wiped her mascara with a paper towel, squared her shoulders, and pulled out her phone.
April: Chad cheated on me
April: With HR
Laura: Are you ok?
Laura: Wait are you with HR or he was with HR?
April: im safe
April: alone
April: HR is... pending
Laura: "Pending" is not an HR status.
Laura: Do you want me to call you or do you want me to simply drive to your office and start making purposeful eye contact with people.
April let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, shaking.
April: don’t worry
April: I have a plan
She didn’t. Not yet.
April's brain began churning through the options like a printer with a jammed queue: cry more, quit, move to Vermont to make artisanal cheese.
Laura: What kind of plan?
Laura: Your "plans" include the time you tried to fix your sink with duct tape and flooded your bathroom.
April: the good kind
Laura: That is the opposite of reassuring.
Laura: Turn your location on. I'm leaving in ten minutes.
April: trust me
April: gotta go
She pushed the door open expecting an empty hallway and nearly walked into a wall of expensive charcoal wool.
Killian Blackwood hand raised, standing outside her closet as if he was waiting for a conference room to empty.
She hadn’t had a plan thirty seconds ago.
She did now.