Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(19)

“Then I’m in.”

“Okay, good.” There’s a pause, and then Lina sighs. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Well, this doesn’t sound promising.” I shove a large piece of pie in my mouth.

“It all depends on whether you want your best friend, the one who sticks up for you, has lied to the police for you, has gone along with all of your harebrained ideas, to be happy.”

“You’ve never lied to the police for me.”

“Senior year. The bottle of vodka in the trunk when we got pulled over.”

“Fine. One time,” I heave with exasperation. “What has that earned you today?”

“Well, I’ve started seeing someone that you may not . . .”

Lina’s voice blurs as I watch a ginger-haired woman flounce through the patio, her purse swinging on her arm, as happy as any home-wrecking husband thief could possibly be.

“Oh my God!” Chunks of piecrust get sucked down my throat with my gasp, stirring up a cough that I struggle to suppress. “It’s her!” I hiss.

“Her who?”

I struggle to swallow as I watch my ex-husband’s new wife sit three tables over with what I assume is a friend.

“Her!” I hiss even more sharply, dipping my head so I’m not so obviously staring at her.

There’s only one “her” that I could be talking about with such venom in my voice, and Lina catches on quickly. “What? Here in Miami?”

“No. In hell! Because that’s where I obviously am today!” First Ben, now Caroline?

“Has she recognized you yet?”

“No, but she hasn’t looked this way.” Without my purple hair and piercings and in professional clothes—minus the cute and trendy cowboy boots that I’d normally never wear but Nicki insisted must be worn with this dress—Caroline may not recognize me. I hope not. Just in case, though, I open the menu and prop it up, ready to duck behind it if necessary.

“I’m coming down.”

“No, you’re not, because she will recognize you.” With Lina living next door to them for months, it was impossible to avoid her in the hall completely. Knowing Lina, she would have been skewering Caroline with her eyes at every single chance. “Why is she here?” A second, smaller, gasp. “Did they move to Miami?” Jared always wanted to get a ship-welding job down here.

“I dunno. What does his Facebook profile say?”

“I haven’t been on it since Cancún.” As hard as it was to wean myself off that addiction—my only connection to Jared—I couldn’t bear seeing the proof of them married. Just the idea still feels like a knife plunging into my stomach.

“Okay, just a sec. Let me see if I can get on . . .” I hear the clatter of a keyboard on the other end. “Yup. They just moved to Miami. Two weeks ago.”

“Shit,” I mutter more to myself, a strange, unpleasant feeling stirring in my chest, adding softly, “I guess he got the ship-welding job.” We used to lie in bed at night with the lights dimmed and Muse—his favorite band—playing softly while he doodled ships all over my body, explaining the different parts and what his work would entail. I couldn’t care less about ships, but I’d lie still and let him get it out of his system. I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d get distracted by the naked canvas.

“What does she do again?”

“Besides destroying marriages and tearing out people’s hearts?” I’ve found it helps to paint her as the villain here, though I know I should be directing at least some of that hatred at Jared.

Ignoring my acidity, Lina offers, “Well, at least Miami’s a big city.”

“And yet it’s a f**king small world, obviously.”

“Deep breaths, Reese,” she coaches calmly. As though she’s afraid of what I may do. I can’t blame her. I’ve never been above punching a girl when she deserves it.

“I’m fine,” I snap, watching the key factor in my heartbreak a fork’s launch away, in her gingham dress—really? Outside of Disney World and I Love Lucy, who the hell wears gingham anyway?—and her straight hair stretching down her back. A strange, perverse pleasure blossoms inside of me as I watch the woman who had no issues stepping in to rip my life right out from under me giggle away with a friend, unaware of my presence.

I’ve never actually spoken to her. Aside from a few details Jared provided me in the beginning of our relationship—they were childhood family friends who turned into high school sweethearts, though she lived in Savannah—he never talked about her. I thought she was long gone from his life. Clearly not.

What made him want to marry her? Sure, I guess she’s pretty, in that average, boring way. She appears to be bubbly and sweet and probably never curses. I’m guessing she knows how to wave a pom-pom and I’d bet money she was part of some Delta Fuck You sorority. But what does he see in her? What about her makes sense to him?

Jared always said he couldn’t stand those kinds of girls; that I was fresh air to him, after years of being suffocated by what his wealthy parents wanted of him, of his life.

That he and I made sense.

That he couldn’t breathe without me.

I watch her run a hand through her hair, the sparkle from that diamond I know Jared can’t afford on his salary catching my eye, reminding me that it doesn’t matter what I don’t see. All that matters is what Jared does see.