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I smile and show Poppy the litter box because she stopped eating. “Should I put her inside?” I ask Riley, which is silly. He’s as clueless as I am.
“Sure.” He sets Vizzini and Itty-bitty near the open litter box, too. “This is where you do your business. Think you can remember that?”
I laugh. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“Want some coffee? Breakfast?” Riley asks. “I can get it and bring it back here.”
I like that he doesn’t sayI’ll get Inez to wait on us. Riley was raised with a staff of housekeepers, but he doesn’t expect anyone to serve him.
“Coffee would be great.”
“What about your hypoglycemia? Shouldn’t you eat, too? I don’t want you getting sick.”
He remembers, and he understands. My heart flip-flops in the most pathetic way. But how else should I respond to Riley’s thoughtfulness? Justice constantly forgot I have reactive hypoglycemia. Sometimes he acted like it wasn’t a medical issue I have but something I made up.
“Yeah, I should eat. I’ll text Inez that you’re coming.” Although she probably has my breakfast ready—and his, for that matter.
“I’ll be right back,” Riley says on his way to the glass doors.
“Thank you,” I call out before he closes them behind him.
He flashes me that charming smirk and then walks across the pool deck toward the main house.
I get my phone and text Inez about breakfast before setting it on the counter.
Itty-bitty is using the litter box.
“Good girl,” I praise her and clap.
It hits me then. Last night was the second time I didn’t troll the internet for pictures of Justice and Hope before going to bed.
A small victory but it feels huge. I pet the kittens as they wander around. “Thank you, babies, for saving me from myself.”
I should shower but the heat won’t help my blood sugar levels, especially since I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll have to wait.
The kittens explore the room, seeming much more comfortable than they were last night. “This is your new home. I hope you like it.”
My phone chimes with a text. I check it.
The message is from Porsha.
Porsha: I bet the bastard is behind this or his jealous new wife. I should have him offed.
Me: No, you shouldn’t. Karma will get him back and you won’t have to do a thing.
That’s what Gigi always says.
Me:Wait… Behind what?
Porsha: Good. You don’t know yet. I’m glad I get to tell you instead of it being a surprise. I wish I were back in the States but I’m still in London. Do me a favor. Once you see this, try to forget it and know it’s not true. You are one of my most beautiful, sexy friends. Nothing on you needs changed! Social media and people are dicks!
Oh shit.
She sends a Twitter and a TikTok link.
My hands shake as I click the Twitter link first.
A post about my weight appears, with a picture of me and Hope cropped side by side. It’s a horrible angle of me. I’ll admit I look chunky for me, but it’s also hard not to look fat next to a girl who can’t even pinch an inch.
