Becca smiled at that. She knew what she meant.
Wine poured. Hookah set. The two of them curled up near the fire like no time had passed at all.
Inez talked first — promotions at work, long hours in children services, cases that kept her up at night. Her love life? Nonexistent.
“All I do is work,” she shrugged. “Work-life balance is on life support.”
They laughed.
They reminisced about sneaking out as teens. Covering for each other. Lying like professionals.
For a moment, they were eighteen again.
But Inez’s expression slowly shifted.
She studied Becca.
“Okay,” she said, leaning back into the couch. “Enough about me. What’s really going on with you?”
The fire cracked louder in the silence that followed.
Becca took a slow pull from her wine glass before answering.
“After four years with Izzy… I knew something was off. I just couldn’t place it. I was traveling, doing fundraisers, building the shop. He started sitting on the sidelines.”
Her voice stayed calm. Too calm.
“One night I followed him.”
Inez sat up straighter.
“To a bar in Scranton. I stayed in my car. Texted him asking where he was. He said he was at a friend’s house.”
Becca let out a dry laugh.
“I watched him walk out forty-five minutes later.”
She swallowed.
“With a woman.”
“Red hair. Long. Curly. Dressed like money.”
Inez’s hand slowly covered her mouth.
“They were holding hands,” Becca continued. “Got into his Audi. I followed them to this expensive hotel in one of the towns nearby.”
Silence.
“I took pictures. Videos. The next day I confronted him.”
“And?” Inez asked, already knowing.
“He said she was a manager. Some modeling contract opportunity.”
Inez dropped her hand. “Becca…”
“I didn’tbelieve him,” she said firmly. “Especially with my past. I knew better.”
