Today was wedding attempt number fifty-two with Owen Tadder. No big crowd this time—just our families. I dragged myself through a fever to check the setup with the wedding director. Owen didn't even look at me. He was in the groom's room, giving Vanessa Fondler, his intern, a full-on ankle massage. She'd shown up limping like always. My parents just shook their heads. "Really? Again? Has he ever cared about you?" Everyone knew how badly I wanted this to finally happen. But right before the ceremony, he bailed. Again. I chased after him, but he blocked me. "Vanessa's leg's still bad. I gotta take her to the hospital. Let's postpone. Next time, I swear." Then he turned and helped her into the car. Five years together. Fifty-two canceled weddings. Always because of her. I used to scream, demand answers, beg him to stay. This time, I smiled. "It's fine. Vanessa probably can't wait." He blinked, caught off guard. "Cool. I'll bring that strawberry cake you love tonight." I nodded. He shut the window, drove off. My smile dropped. I hate strawberries. I hate cake. He knows that. I told him the first time he brought it—forced down a bite so he wouldn't feel bad, then admitted I couldn't stand it. He even typed it into his notes, promised he'd remember. One year later—yeah, right. The sun was brutal, but my heart? Ice. I laughed once, walked back in, called it off. Then I ripped up the dress I'd worn fifty-two freaking times. Time to shred those five years, too.