The world tilts. My feet stop moving of their own accord, and I'm frozen in the middle of the restaurant like a deer in headlights. My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out the ambient chatter and clinking silverware.
They're still together. After everything—after destroying our relationship, after humiliating me in front of sixty people, after making me question every instinct I'd ever had about love and trust—they're still together. Sitting in a restaurant thirty minutes from my parents' farm, having brunch like a normal couple.
Andy reaches across the table and takes Rachel's hand, her thumb stroking across her knuckles in a gesture so familiar it makes my stomach lurch. She used to do that to me.
I need to move. I need to either go to the restroom or go back to my table, but I can't do either because my legs have apparently forgotten how to function.
And then Andy looks up.
Her eyes meet mine, and recognition dawns across her face. Her smile falters and Rachel turns to look too. Rachel, who used to be my best friend. My ride or die. Now they're both staring at me with matching expressions of shock and—what is that? Guilt? Embarrassment? Or maybe I'm just projecting.
Move, Liv. Do something.
Andy raises her hand in an awkward half-wave, like we're old acquaintances who ran into each other at a coffee shop. Like she didn't tell another woman she loved her on our wedding day. Like she didn't kiss her while I was waiting to walk down the aisle.
Something hot and sharp rises in my chest. Anger. Pure, clean anger that cuts through the shock and the hurt and the humiliation. I don't wave back. I don't smile. I just hold her gaze for a long moment, letting her see that I see her, that I remember everything, that I haven't forgotten.
Then I head for the restrooms.
I’m shaking when I return to our table. I slide back into my seat next to Blair, reaching for my mimosa and draining it in one long swallow.
"Hey." Blair's voice is concerned as her hand finds my knee under the table. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Something like that," I manage, nodding toward the back of the restaurant. "That’s Andy." The name tastes bitter on my tongue. "And Rachel."
Andy is watching us, her eyes fixed on me.
“Oh…” Blair stiffens beside me as she takes in the pair. "Do you want to leave?" she asks quietly. "We can make an excuse. Say you're not feeling well."
I shake my head, though part of me desperately wants to flee. "No. I'm not going to let her ruin anything anymore."
Blair nods and hesitates for a beat before she asks, “How does it feel, seeing her again?”
I consider the question. "Honestly? I don't feel what I expected to feel." I glance toward them again, then back at Blair. "No jealousy. No longing. I don't look at Rachel and wish it were me sitting there. I just feel... angry. Angry that she gets to sit there and hold hands with the woman she chose over me, likewhat she did to me was just collateral damage on the way to her happy ending."
Blair squeezes my hand but doesn't interrupt.
"I'm over her," I continue, surprised by how true it feels. "I really am. I don't want her back.” I look at Blair. “I’m thinking I should feel something about the fact that they made it work. Relief that it wasn't pointless? Resentment that it paid off for her?" I shake my head. "I don't care enough to decide. They're just... two people who chose each other. It doesn't have anything to do with me anymore.”
“You don’t have to downplay it,” Blair says. “It’s okay to be upset. This must be so traumatic for you.”
I shrug. “I suppose. Being in the same room as them makes my body remember things my mind has moved past. It's like a reflex. Fight or flight." I exhale slowly. “But I’m okay. I can ignore them.”
"Good," she says, wrapping her arms around me and kissing my forehead. “You’re not alone. You have me. And if you want to leave at any moment, I promise you, I can get us back to New York in no time.”
I close my eyes and breathe in her scent. "Thank you," I whisper. “I’m really glad I met you.”
30
BLAIR
Liv’s shoulders are squared with determination. She's handling this better than most people would—seeing their ex and the woman they cheated with, having brunch like nothing ever happened. But there’s tension in her jaw and her fingers grip her mimosa glass a little too tightly.
Andy is still stealing glances at our table. Part of me wants to march over there and tell her exactly what I think of someone who could do that to another person on their wedding day. And Rachel—God, Rachel might be worse. She was Liv's best friend. Her maid of honor.
A thought surfaces that I'm not proud of: if Andy hadn't done what she did, Liv would be married right now. She'd be someone's wife, living some other life, and I would never have met her. I wouldn't know what it feels like to wake up with her, or to watch her eyes light up when she laughs, or to see her transform into a force of nature when everything falls apart around her. The selfish part of me is grateful for a betrayal that broke another woman's heart.
"You okay?" I ask her.
