“For fuck’s sake.” I roll up my window and watch Solana slide her arm into Georgie’s. They walk together to Mercedes’s front door. He’s carrying an enormous bouquet of roses in every color but red and some sort of sparkling beverage, which I hope he realizes Mercedes won’t be drinking.

They ring the doorbell, and in the light over the front door, I see Mercedes when she greets them. When her eyes flit to me, my heart skips. But she is quick to look away, and her smile is for her friends. Not me.

I guess I’m not so incognito, not that I thought I was. Her hair is braided in one long, dark plait over her shoulder, and she has a turquoise shawl draped over her shoulders. I can’t see her swollen stomach because Georgie and Solana are standing in the way, and I find I want to. I want to see it more than anything else.

I set the jar of salve on the empty seat beside mine. Solana was right. I am almost out. And the stuff is good. That lashing will leave scars but less. She delivered the first jar to my office about a week after she busted in, telling me she only did it as a favor to Mercedes because in her opinion, which I didn’t care to hear but she shared nonetheless, I didn’t deserve it.

A few minutes later, I see the three of them gather around the kitchen table I remember from the last time I was there. Mercedes sets the flowers Georgie brought in a vase in the center, then moves to the window, where I swear she takes a pointed moment to look at me before swiftly shutting the blinds.

I glance away, disappointed. Although I have no right to be. This is what I wanted. I chose this. I let her walk away, and I am a prick for it, just like her friend said. But I remind myself that it’s better for her. Safer. I start the engine and back out of my spot, tempted to plow right through Georgie’s car and give it more than a little nudge. I know what that is. Jealousy. Not like before, like when I thought he might have something with Mercedes. Jealousy that I’m not a part of whatever is going on in there. Jealous that I am on the outside. Knowing I will always be on the outside.

Santiago’s curse floats to mind. I wonder if he knows how powerful words are. How I am suffering every day for the loss of her. The loss of him.