Page 105 of No Headlines Please

But Sierra? She hadn't changed one bit. She looked as polished and expensive as ever, right down to the designer handbag dangling from her arm. Meanwhile, her fiancé was the pack mule.

Yes. Fiancé.

I'd learned about their engagement the last time I'd seen them. But if I knew Sierra, she'd be announcing it again within a minute flat.

Sure enough, when we reached each other, we'd barely stopped walking before she gave a little squeal. "Delaney! Oh my gosh! Have you seen my ring?"

Yes, I had.

Once had been plenty.

Forget looking. I wanted to rip it off her finger and shove it up Devon's ass, because of what he'd done to Maisie.

He hadn't only broken Maisie's heart. He'd crushed her like a bug. Until five minutes before college graduation, Maisie had been expecting to find a ring on her own finger, because Devon had all but promised.

Instead, she'd been cheated on and dumped like yesterday's garbage.

And who did Devon cheat with?

Yup, you guessed it – the same chick who was already waggling her finger in my direction while gushing, "Isn't it gorgeous?"

It was, actually.

And somehow, that just made everything worse.

Still, I said what needed saying. "Yes. It's lovely."

She gave another squeal. "I know, right?"

By now, it had been nearly two months since I'd last seen them. Oddly enough, we were standing in almost the exact same spot – a couple of blocks away from the building where Tessa used to work.

Yes.

Used to work.

The first time I'd stopped by Thatcher-Hale, the agency's receptionist had been vague about Tessa's whereabouts.

But there'd been no vagueness today.

Instead, a different receptionist had told me flat-out that Tessa didn't work there anymore. She'd been all snide about it, too, like Tessa had been caught stealing.

Over the past couple of weeks, I'd called Tessa's cell at least a hundred times, leaving messages that continued to go unanswered. Meanwhile, Tessa's social media page hadn't posted a single update, even as my mom gushed on her page about how terrific Tessa was doing in Miami.

The whole thing was beyond confusing.

And now, here I was, forced to stand here while the world's biggest twatwaffle lifted her hand toward the sunlight to give her ring some extra sparkle.

The worst thing was, this little performance wasn't even for me. If I knew Sierra, she was hoping I'd scamper off to Mackinac Island and tell Maisie all about it – as if the knife needed any more twisting.

If I had my way, Maisie wouldn't be hearing a single word. Not about Devon. Not about Sierra. And especially not about the ring.

But Sierra wasn't exactly subtle. As if to prove it, she asked with feigned concern, "So, are you and Maisie still on the outs?"

The question stung, but I had nobody to blame but myself. The last time I'd run into them, I'd made this big deal about me and Maisie not being friends anymore.

It hadn't been about Sierra. It hadn't even been about Devon. Or the ring.

The truth was, I'd figured Maisie would be safer if everyone from our old circle thought she and I were no longer in contact.