Unable to speak, she swallowed hard and nodded one last time before turning to open the door.

18. Morningside Heights, USA

18

MORNINGSIDE HEIGHTS, USA

Before

Paul was waiting in front of Guy’s brownstone apartment when the trio of girls arrived. Bee and Sophie were laughing, heels clicking in effortless rhythm and arms linked while Alex strode a few feet ahead. It was demanding the work of every cell in her body to appear normal, to smile at the appropriate moments and pretend as if she hadn’t just spent the last three hours perfecting her appearance for a man who was dating someone else. Paul extended his arms to her, taking her in his embrace and whispering “Let’s talk” in her ear before turning to air kiss the other two, saying he would be right up after he called his dad to put more money in his account.

“Ugh,” Sophie moaned, rolling her eyes as she clicked up the stairs, “I hate those calls.”

Once the girls were safely buzzed into the building, Paul turned to Alex.

“Well, you do look very hot,” he opened. “So there’s that.”

“Thank you.”

When she said nothing else, he presented her the logistics of the matter.

“Okay, so, here’s the deal: That weird motherfucker was hiding a whole relationship for the last two months. Dev told me this afternoon.”

“Don’t call him weird.”

“He is, and that’s okay. You’re weird, too.”

They briefly went quiet as a group of mutuals passed them on their way up the stairs.

“But I think it’s all good,” he continued, pivoting to an unconvincingly perky tone. “He seems totally normal. He probably didn’t have a chance to read it yet! You guys can talk on Sunday when Daphne goes back to Pittsburgh.”

“You don’t think he read it?” Her heart raced with the many possible implications, the stomach-dropping scene that might be awaiting her upstairs. “So everyone’s here? Did you ask Dev?”

“Yes, they’re here. And so is Renee, so if the whole apartment smells like Santal 33, you know why.”

“Maybe you should just tell everyone I’m sick.”

“Babe, you literally just came with Sophie and Bee. Don’t make this more awkward.”

“How could it possibly get more awkward?” She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed by the naive version of herself that existed five hours ago.

“Well, I did famously tell you not to write a letter.”

Her eyes snapped up, full of unearned rage. “What the fuck, Paul?”

“I’m trying to help you here. Listen.” He reached into the pocket of his cream linen pants, “Take this.”

He produced a prescription bottle with NAOMI KENNEDY printed on its label, along with the word BENZODIAZEPINE.

“Xanax?”

“Correct.”

“I’m not taking drugs.”