“Miss Piggy,” I say as I try the ignition with no success, “is fucking dying. Shit.”
“Well, we saw this coming, didn’t we?” Maria laughs. “Should we call Sofia?”
“Damn it!” I shout. “It’s bad enough I’m showing up in this shitty fucking car, but it breaks down before I can even get to the wedding? Great first impression, Isabella. Thanks, Miss Piggy.”
“Yeah, how were you going to justify this car anyway if you’re ‘so successful’ with all your ‘designer’ shit?” Maria says.
“I was going to say my real car was in the shop, and this was a loaner from a coworker. Duh.”
I grab my phone and hover my finger over Sofia’s name. I haven’t looked at this number in so long. In the past ten years, I’ve probably hovered over her name a total of five times. Curious if she’d reply—and wondering what I would even say. I hold my breath and send the text to Sofia.
After what feels like five minutes but is probably closer to one, she replies. “All right, she says someone is coming to get us,” I say to Maria. “Back to the letter, I think I left it in my apartment; I couldn’t find it in my bag this morning.” My stomach twists as I say it, because I know I put it there. Did I leave it somewhere else?
“It was only a two-line letter, but it felt important—like a clue I was supposed to hold on to. It said that I will find the truth in his book and that I have the key.”
“Oh shit. We’ll have to figure this one out later. I fucking loved his puzzles.”
My dad didn’t just enjoy puzzles for fun. He had a knack for hiding things inside them—important things. When I was little, he used to make me solve a riddle or a puzzle before I got a gift or a special surprise, like it was some game between us. But as I got older, I realized it was more than that. He used puzzles to teach me how to think, to see beyond the surface. He used to say that in life, the answers weren’t always obvious—you had to work for them, piece by piece.
And now, with his book and the clues he’s left behind, I can’t help but wonder if he’s hidden something important again. Something I’ll need to figure out to understand the bigger picture of what he’s been trying to tell me.
After a few moments, our silence is broken by the sound of a car horn. I jump up and look through the rearview. I can’t determine who it is, but it seems like a nice car. It must be Sofia.
Maria looks up from her phone. “This must be our knight in shining armor.” She laughs.
“Stop,” I groan. “It makes me feel like a poor peasant in distress being rescued by the rich princess who pities me and my stupid car.”
“You’re so dramatic.” Maria chuckles, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the car door. “We should go. Are you ready?”
I give Miss Piggy one more pat before exiting her. She’ll be fine. She always is. Besides, I already called for a tow—they said they’ll pick her up later today. Hopefully, she’s back in action before all the wedding festivities start.
“I call shotgun,” I whisper to Maria as we walk toward the gorgeous silver Volvo SUV staring back at us. The headlights are on, which must be some fancy automatic thing Miss Piggy would scoff at. I still can’t see who it is.
My throat is dry, and my heart is pounding. I reach for the passenger-side door and pull the latch.
“Hi, thanks so much for picking us up. Miss Piggy—” I look up, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes meet the driver’s. The air between us seems to thicken, and for a split second, I feel my pulse quicken, betraying the annoyance I try to hold on to. “No fucking way.” Maria lets out a cackle.
“Long time no see,” she says, her grin as sharp as ever, but it isn’t just the smugness that catches me off guard. Something flickers beneath the surface—something I wish I could ignore as easily as the smirk.
Her car smells of vanilla. Her long dark brown hair drapes strategically down her chest in perfectly curled, thick tendrils. I would recognize that face anywhere, unfortunately.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say.
“Of all the people who could pick us up.” Maria laughs. “Who would have thought it would be—”
I exhale deeply, but it isn’t just frustration that settles in my chest.
“Valentina Garcia,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, the name rolling off my tongue with far more weight than I intend.
Chapter Five
“So, this is exciting,” Maria says, breaking the silence, but it doesn’t stop the undercurrent of tension that buzzes between me and Valentina, unspoken but palpable.
I look straight ahead, determined to ignore the warmth that has spread through my chest, even though I can feel Valentina’s gaze lingering longer than necessary. I turn around to glare at Maria, who only grins.
“It’s definitely been a while, huh? Ten years, right, Isa?” Valentina says, her voice carrying that same easy confidence, but there is something softer in her eyes. I hate that I notice, and hate even more that it makes my heart skip a beat.
“Yes,” I reply between clenched teeth, forcing myself not to look at her, even though I can feel her presence, unsettling and too close for comfort.
