Page 55 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I take a sip of coffee and nearly moan.

“Oh wow,” I whisper.

My phone buzzes beside my cup.

For one irrational second, I hope it's Luci saying something unhinged and supportive.

It isn't.

It's a social media notification, and because apparently I learn nothing, I tap it.

Immediately, there he is.

Bryce with his new girlfriend… again. This time, at the Harley-Davidson Museum. Not that I’m looking at the bikes in the background. I can’t stop eyeing her.

Perfect hair, perfect skin, hand on his arm like she’s proud of the man she’s attached herself to.

My chest caves in a little.

It’s stupid.

I know it’s stupid.

I know he’s awful.

But it still hurts.

Humiliation always has this weird afterlife. It doesn’t stay politely in the moment. It keeps showing up later, in tiny ugly flashes, asking if maybe the cruel thing someone said about you was secretly true.

More stable.

More suitable.

Less noise.

I stare at the screen too long, throat tight.

Then a voice says, “He’s not worth crying over if his shoes look like that.”

I blink and look up.

It’s the girl from the counter, balancing a cloth and a spray bottle against one hip as she wipes the next table.

“I’m sorry?”

She nods toward the screen. “That man. The loafers alone tell me everything I need to know.”

And before I can stop it, I laugh. A real laugh. Sharp and sudden and completely dragged out of me.

“Oh my goodness,” I say, locking my phone and setting it facedown. “That’s horrible.”

“And yet,” she says, arching an eyebrow, “Accurate.”

She grins and drops into the empty chair across from me for half a second, still holding the spray bottle like she’s technically working and therefore innocent.

“I’m Sophie,” she says. “And I’m only interfering because you had the expression of a woman either contemplating murder or re-downloading a dating app, and I wanted to stop you before the second one.”

I stare at her. Then smile despite myself. “Addy.”