“Then he didn’t go back to the apartment because he was asleep in this woman’s room.”
“Mila.”
Katrina frowns. “What?”
“Her name is Mila.”
“I don’t give a fuck what her name is,” Katrina huffs.
“But she’s always wanted him.”
Katrina’s eyes bug wide. “Youknowthis hoe?”
Ah, I forgot to mention that.“Mila went to high school with us. She’s always had this huge crush on Devon. She was always a bitch to me.”
Katrina looks horrified. “That makes this even worse! He knew she wanted him in high school, and then he spent the night in her fucking room?”
“Yeah—”
Katrina is storming around the room now, with no pacing in sight. “And she was a bitch to you? Did he know that too, I guess?”
I frown. “No, she never did it in front of him.”
Katrina gapes at me. “Didwhat, exactly?”
“I really don’t want to go into this right now.” I drop my head into my hands.
“Jesus, Jade! I’m so sorry, girl. Is he on his way home?”
I sigh. “I don’t know—I told him if he wasn’t back tonight, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Absolutely. Let’s pack your stuff—you can stay at mine.”
I lift my head. “But he might come back?”
Katrina shoots me a look. “It’s your anniversary, and he’s woken up in some mean girl’s hotel room. Fuck whether he comes back.”
Chapter Nine
DEVON
Finally, I’ve landed in Los Angeles.
JFK Airport didn’t have any flights going under eight hundred dollars, but I got a red-eye flight from Newark Airport at almost midnight. It still set me back four hundred dollars, but at least I was on my way home.
Here I am, finally in LA at almost three in the morning. My back is in agony from sleeping in that stupid chair in Mila’s room, and the economy seat at the back has made it even worse.
I stretch before grabbing my bag from the ground and wave at my Uber, which has finally shown up. It took the app fifteen minutes to locate a driver at this hour—what the hell is going on? I slump into the backseat as the driver navigates the hazy city streets. Palm trees shimmer under the orange glow of the streetlights, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.
I must doze off because the next thing I know, the driver has turned on his interior light, his dark brown eyes staring at me in the rearview mirror.
“Shit, sorry,” I mutter, climbing out of the cab.
Our house stands before me as it always has, but now it seems different.
Accusing, almost.
I’m tired, that’s all this is.
