“This isn’t like him,” I said.

Clem arched an eyebrow. “If you wanted a man who showed up on time—”

Irene paused and looked down into her mug. Again, she felt like she was grasping at straws—at something she couldn’t quite place.

“So, the Bonners don’t know how to keep track of time,” Addison shrugged. “That doesn’t make them bad people.”

“You know that’s not how the story ends.”

“I just think you’re looking to point out how terrible they are,” Addison said.

“Because they’re terrible,” Irene said, then she continued.

Clem sighed. “If Nate’s not here by the time we’re done closing up, you and I are going for milkshakes.”

“Milkshakes were not what I had in mind,” I said.

“Spiked milkshakes.” The two of us had given up bourbon in the final weeks leading up to the shop’s opening. We had too much to focus on to be drinking.

As Clem headed behind the register to count the drawer, I picked up dirty teacups. I started for the sink in the back, when a black Porsche in the alley caught my eye. It sat a few shops down, hidden behind a dumpster. Had I not been at just the right angle, I might not have seen it at all.

“Nate’s here!” I set the dishes down in a hurry and wiped my hands on the sides of my denim overalls before brushing my curls out of my eyes.

When I stepped into the alley, the summer heat hit me like a physical thing. I hurried toward Nate’s car. But with each step I took, I slowed, the feeling in my stomach twisting deeper.

The car looked almost hidden the way he’d parked it.

The windows were fogged.

The frame shook.

I froze. Blinked.

I took a deep breath, fists clenched. Cicadas hummed as they landed on the pavement around me.

I’d asked Nate if there was another woman after I’d seen that first omen. I’d asked him again, and again. But he’d wrapped his arms around me and told me how much he loved me and promised me a life together. And every time, I’d believed him.

Until now.

I should’ve listened to the tea leaves. I should’ve listened to my mother.

“And you should listen to me now,” Irene said.

“Really, Mom?” Addison said.

“She was right,” Irene said. “I could have saved myself a lot of heartache.”

A cicada perched on the back windshield, rubbing its wings and humming in time with the angry beat of my heart. I tried to open the car door. Inside, a woman lay sprawled in the back seat, barely visible through the dark tint of the windows. The look on her face was enough to tell me exactly where Nate was.