The shop is small with only the one entrance and exit, and the line is long with only one person having joined behind me since I entered.

My heart pounds painfully in my chest, distracting me from everything else around me as I watch from the corner of my eye as they walk toward me, also distracted. But rather than by embarrassment or the desire to flee, it’s by each other.

I dip my face, focusing on my phone again, working to occupy myself and hopefully discreetly camouflage myself with the dozens of patrons inside.

“They loved you,” I hear Gabe tell her. “I think they were waiting to see if you were going to walk on water next.”

She giggles.

Gabe laughs. But then stops, and I can tell by the volume of her laughter that they’re close.

I glance up from my phone, my shoulders pulled back. After my doughnut date with Gemma had gone longer than expected and Catherine sent me a follow-up text asking how things were going, I’d abandoned the idea of doing my hair and wearing a nice outfit, assuming I’d be holed up in my office all day where my unwashed hair and jeans wouldn’t be seen.

Shit.

Gabe is standing mere feet from me, frozen with his girlfriend still secured at his side. His eyes are wide, his lips a tight line. He’s dressed in his charcoal-gray suit, the one I helped him pick out and found a tailor for so it would fit like it does, accentuating his broad shoulders and small waist. I glance to his side, noting the woman is even prettier when her hair isn’t rumpled and she’s not being caught having sex in someone else’s bed. My bed. Her hair is glossy and dark, and her eyes are almond-shaped and artfully shaded to draw attention to how flawlessly long her lashes are. Even her lips are perfect, stained a natural shade of rose. My quickly swiped-on mascara and lip balm definitely don’t compare.

“My parents are so excited to meet you,” she says, not noting his change in disposition or my presence.

My eyebrows jump at her words, wondering once again just how long their affair has been happening.

Gabe’s gaze drops, and I recognize the embarrassment coloring his cheeks before he pivots and leads them to the end of the line.

I quickly open my texts, holding my phone discreetly so Gabe and his girlfriend can’t see it—though I doubt either are looking or could read it even if they were—and scroll down to Felicity.

I take a couple of steps forward as the line moves, listening to Gabe’s girlfriend list their plans for the weekend: a road trip to the country where they’ll be staying at a bed and breakfast before meeting her parents on Sunday.

My feet are already angled to get out of line and make a beeline for the door.

In all the years we dated, I never once randomly ran into Gabe.

Not once.

New.

The word stands out like a billboard. Though so much in my life feels new right now, nothing truly is new. Though I’m sleeping somewhere new, it’s familiar, comfortable—known. My job, my clothes, my car, my responsibilities have remained the same.

“Good morning! What can I get started for you?”

I look up, seeing the barista waiting for me, and with a final glance at my phone, I step forward to place my order, complete with a second drink.

My grin is instant and unconscious and only widens when the male barista hands me my drinks and smiles broadly at me. The scent of the hot coffee makes me grateful I didn’t escape. With my chin held high, I step around Gabe and his girlfriend, who looks at me carefully, making me briefly wonder if she can place me, before I head out the door.

Back at the office, I deposit one of the coffees for Andrea. It’s a caramel something or other with extra syrup and whipped cream, the way I know she prefers it after having tried to make small talk with her previously about a shared interest.

She looks up from the large desk calendar she’s jotting a note onto and pulls her chin back, blinking several times as she looks from me to the drink. “What’s this?”

“An attempt to focus on the silver linings.”

Andrea blinks a few more times, and then slowly, her lips curve into a smile. “Well, that was very nice of you. Thank you, Brooke.”

I give her a smile and disappear back to my office to read another email from Catherine.

Brooke,

Because you know where my house is and know the security, I need you to call and ask if they have the details of my yard. I need to know what size it is so I can get some quotes for a new gardener.

-Catherine

“Of course, because they probably quit, too,” I say, sitting at my desk and scrolling through my contacts until I reach the contact for her neighborhood. “There are so many things wrong with the fact that I have this number saved,” I murmur, hitting Send and once again becoming too involved with Catherine’s life.