the sacred rite of passage in which one character—usually after a spectacular display of idiocy—embarks on a dramatic, heartfelt apology tour to win back the other; characterized by impassioned declarations and grand gestures
“How are you feeling?”
I shove another book into the cart, pretending Paige’s question doesn’t sting. I spent most of last night awake, replaying every single moment of the last two weeks between Rafael and me, so I’m tired. And heartbroken, though I’ll never admit it. Then today I woke up to Celeste shouting at me, telling me how disappointed she was that I’d gone behind her back and rerecorded the episode. I tried to explain that if the police wouldn’t do anything, then we had to, but… well, let’s just say it’s a miracle Theo and I still have our jobs.
And even with this shitstorm raining on me, I had to keep up appearances for Ethan, who hasn’t changed his mind about movingin since last night. Had to make breakfast and make conversation like half of my world hadn’t imploded.
“I’m seeing Celeste’s husband today. He squeezed me in, and hopefully he’ll help me understand the next step to get custody of my brother.”
“That’s good. Great. And how do you feel about…him?”
Him. I know it’s not Ethan or Steve. “I’m fine.”
Her long fingers tap her chin. “Really?”
Of course I’m not fine. Rafael lied abouteverything. And the worst part? I knew something was off, but I ignored every single sign. Theo told me to trust my gut. Why didn’t I? And why, out of all the people in the world, did I give that lying sack of shit a chance?
“At least now I know. And it’s only been a couple of weeks, so…” I trail off. I’ll be okay. I have to be, because there are more important things for me to think about, like Ethan.
“Sorry I didn’t answer last night,” she says. “I didn’t see your call until this morning.”
I lazily look over the books in front of me. “Where were you?”
I couldn’t stand being alone last night, and when I got back home, Ethan was sleeping. So I walked to her place, which was empty, then to Vanessa’s. Paige wasn’t there, either, and when Vanessa invited me in anyway, I realized my best friend was the only person I wanted to talk to.
Paige turns around, looking through the shelves. “Uh, just at Vanessa’s.”
Wait, what? Why is she lying?
My brows knit together, but I don’t think she notices as she picks up a book and begins reading the back, green eyes skillfully avoiding mine. “You know, this kind of thing happens all the time in romance.”
“What does?”
“The big betrayal, where it turns out the love interest was initially pursuing the main character because of some ulterior motive.”
I arch a brow. “Like what?”
She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Like maybe they’ve been sent by their Mafia boss? Or the king.”
I stare at her across the aisle. “The king?”
“Yeah. If the love interest is a prince or something.”
When I make no movement, she plucks a book off the shelf. “Look,” she says, turning it in her hands and reading aloud. “?‘When Tristan Montgomery was asked by his father to uncover every secret of Saddlehorn Ranch, he knew Patty was the key to everything. What he didn’t plan for was falling in love with his sunshiny neighbor.’?” Paige holds the book up, her brows raised as if she just proved a point. “See? Happens all the time.”
And?What is she trying to say?
I walk over, pick up another book, and skim the back cover. “?‘Can serial killers fall in love? Finding out the love of my life is my stalker wasn’t on my bingo card. But I forgot about the bodies in his backyard the second his hands were on me.’?” I hold it up triumphantly. “This is also romance. Should I date a stalker next?”
Paige sighs as I stride back to my aisle, though I notice her slipping the serial killer book into her own stack. “No, of course not. But you chose one of the black covers on purpose.”
“Romance is not a credible resource for actual relationship issues, is my point.”
“Ha! So youarein a relationship with Rafael?” she asks, her curls bouncing with the bob of her head.
God, she’s starting to sound like him.
“Iwasin a…situationship,” I correct. “It’s definitely over now.”
