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Amanda frowned, but her eyes flared wide.
“You were printing your travel documents before returning to the UK. Your Mediterranean tour, your flight details.” I waved the itinerary between us. “Got them all here. You were at the Zanettis using their printer. You were using their computer to print and you responded as Rosie.”
“What is—”
“Because I saved the screen grabs of what Rosie and I messaged that day. So I know exactly what time the messages came in.”
Movement from the hallway distracted me as a familiar figure entered the room. Rosie stared at Amanda, horrified.
“God, Amanda, is this true?”
She hadn’t left. What had she heard?
Right then the kettle whistled and Mum sprang into life to pull it off the hob.
Amanda said nothing, her eyes darting between us.
“You said Nick had messaged me that day,” Rosie continued. “From one of my uni classes.”
“He did!” Amanda blurted and then realised her mistake.
I shook my head. “So you had Rosie’s instant messenger app open, and you were responding as her.”
“You were both making a big mistake and … you!” Amanda pointed at me. “You were talking about blow jobs and all sorts of things.”
I bristled with rage. “That didn’t give you the right to end things between Rosie and me before we had the chance to figure it out ourselves.”
Rosie blinked with shock. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I stated firmly. “It’s Amanda who owes you the apology.”
For the first time since she’d entered the kitchen, Rosie looked at me.
So many emotions swirled in her eyes, but she turned back to Amanda. “No, I do need to apologise. For not telling you that Tom and I were interested in dating.”
“Thank you.” Amanda reached for her. “Rosie understands what I’m saying—”
“No.” Rosie shrugged off Amanda’s hand. “Do not interpret my apology as agreeing with what you did.”
Amanda staggered back.
Rosie took a step back as well and addressed me with a slight inclination of her head. “I’ll be here at four-thirty in the morning for the muster. And, after that”—Rosie faced Amanda again—“we will talk about us.”
Rosie left via the front door. Gut instinct screamed for me to chase after her, but I held my ground.
She hadn’t broken up with me after all.
Amanda fled the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mum sighed and followed.
My guts churned. I felt lighter but hollow. I expected to feel righteous, vindicated. Instead, everything felt murky and wrong.
Just then, Ryan strode into the kitchen, looking between Pete and me and the mess on the floor. “Oh, you heard the bad news then?”
“Which bit?” Pete muttered.
“Heard what?” I asked in a daze.
“Snow is one hundred percent predicted to hit while on the muster.”
