Page 11 of XO Karma

Two shots are placed before us, and we clink before downing them. Violet’s phone rings, and she glances at it with a sigh.

“Don’t answer,” I beg, gripping her arm. “Whoever it is can wait till tomorrow.”

“Lil, I love you.” She places a hand on mine. “But I can’t just ignore my responsibilities.”

“These people don’t own you. They have to understand you’re not available every moment of the day.”

“I’ll be sure to remind them of that after I close this deal.” She presses accept and puts the phone to her ear. A few inaudible replies, and she hangs up again. “Okay, don’t be mad⁠—”

“Three words that never seem to ease the anger,” I tease, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I have to go meet a client.”

My brows pull together. “It’s ten at night!”

“Some of my clients are very high maintenance.”

“More high maintenance than your best friend?” I ask with a pout.

She kisses me on the nose. “No one could ever replace you, Lilypad. See you at home?”

“I can’t believe you take me out, then abandon me.” I place a hand dramatically over my chest.

“She’s been eyeing you for an hour,” Violet says, gesturing to the gorgeous redhead at the end of the bar. “I’d say I’m doing you a favor.”

“I didn’t come out for a hook-up,” I argue. “I wanted to drink. Dance. Get down tonight.” I shimmy my shoulders. “Blame it on the boogie.”

She wiggles her fingers, grabbing her purse. “See you at home.”

“Fine.” Rolling my eyes, I wave her off. “See you at home.”

“Try not to miss me.”

I blink back to the present, gaze abandoned on my empty coffee mug. Try not to miss me. The last words I ever heard Violet speak. As if she knew something I didn’t. As if she was preparing me for the hardest months of my life. Although I find it hard to believe that’s how she would have left things.

Surely, she would have reminded me at least four times to water the butterfly bushes near the front door weekly. Crap, I forgot again. And certainly, she would have given me a final piece of dating advice and ended on how I better never replace her or she’d come back and haunt me every single day of my life.

She would have said more than five words that are irritatingly impossible.

Try not to miss me.

The concept is laughable. I miss her every damn day she’s not here. I hate her for leaving me. I hate her for this gaping Violet-sized hole she’s left in my chest since the moment Liam told me about her death. But then I remember it’s not her fault she’s gone, and I hate myself all the same.

Blinking, I struggle to pull myself out of the spiral as a single tear drips to the table.

Violet never even made it to her meeting that night.

The Kodak Killer’s photo of her corpse was shared by the Solarium News two days later. Her eyes vacant and void of life. The necklace Liam gave her for her thirtieth birthday still settled on her neck. Her blood-stained neck.

I just hope she didn’t suffer. That she didn’t spend her final moments in fear, waiting for someone to rescue her.

Try not to miss me. As if my chest doesn’t ache at the mere mention of her name.

“Lily,” Amara’s soft voice says, cutting through my tortured thoughts. I blink rapidly, suppressing the tears that haven’t yet fallen, and glance up to her concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With trembling fingers, I hold out the paper, and she reads the headline. Her concern turns to devastated empathy, and she kneels next to me. She doesn’t speak, just puts an arm around me, hugging me close. I place my hand on hers and breathe.

A beat of silence passes between us. This is the eleventh victim Kodak has taken since Violet’s death alone. “Will this nightmare ever end?”