Page 104 of The Art of Ruin

Across the room, near the bar, as if conjured up by my thoughts—

Jasper.

Standing beside the woman from the Farmer’s Market with the baby in her arms. Her glare is full of hatred and anger. She’s beautiful, slim, tall, blonde, and cold.

And his eyes—they’re fixed directly on me, full of anger and longing.

Watching.

Like he’s been there long enough to see everything.

My stomach drops, sharp and immediate, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling too close, too tight.

“Casey?” Isabella says, her voice low now, alert.

I don’t answer.

Because I can’t look away.

And something tells me—

He didn’t come here by accident.

The woman says something to Jasper, and his jaw tightens as they exchange words.

Then she looks directly at me and starts walking.

My stomach drops as she approaches. “Oh, God.”

“What?” Isabella asks.

But I already know.

I know from the expression on her face.

I know from the way Jasper doesn’t stop her.

I know from the fact that he’s following a step behind.

Not leading.

Not intervening.

Just letting it happen.

The woman stops beside our table.

Up close, she’s younger than I’d realized before. Beautiful in that polished, expensive sort of way. The baby tucked against her shoulder is fast asleep, completely oblivious to the tension crackling around the adult carrying her.

For a second, nobody speaks, but I feel Isabella bristle and place a hand on my side in silent support.

She looks me over with a sneer. “So you’re Casey.”

Not hello.

Not nice to meet you. Not sorry I stole your boyfriend and made a fool of you.

Just accusation.