Page 22 of The Ruin
“Well, Mr. Kibbles and I have a picnic to go to. Have a great time in Vegas!”
With that I spin on my heel, my pigtails nearly whipping me in the face as I march right out the door. It takes all my willpower not to crumble as I head down the hall.
“Brooklyn.”
I don’t pause at the sound of my name, and I don’t look back. I’ll be damned if I’m going to hang on any word from him.
Snapping the leash on the dog, I hook the picnic basket over my arm, grab my purse, and head out the door.
If Luka’s decided he’s over our marriage and onto his next conquest, I sure as hell won’t be sitting around here pining for him.
Brooklyn
Chapter 10
Gulping down the last of my mimosa, I bang the crystal flute down on the table, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and gesture to our waitress for another.
“What?” I ask innocently. “It’s only my third. They don’t call it a bottomless mimosa brunch for nothing.”
Tori and Emzee shoot concerned looks my way. Emzee is still nursing her first boozy beverage, but Tori (thanks to the pregnancy) is drinking plain orange juice.
“Rough week?” Emzee asks gently, sliding a forkful of duck confit sope onto my plate.
I shrug. “You could say that.”
The waitress comes over and switches out my empty glass for a fresh one, and I thank her profusely before digging back into my gourmet goat cheese, rosemary, and fig topped waffle. We’re having one of our girls-only brunch dates at a trendy new hotspot in River North that Emzee—our resident foodie—wanted to try. I’ve really grown to rely on them as friends, and right now I’m especially grateful for the distraction.
Tori pushes aside her salmon toast and says, “I know the runway show went great—”
“Yeah, you and that candy wrapper dress have totally blown up on social media!” Emzee cuts in. “I wonder if Elia needs a new photographer…”
“—so what else is going on?” Tori finishes.
“I guess I’m just missing Luka while he’s out of town,” I half-lie. “He didn’t tell me he was leaving until the last minute, and I was planning a surprise picnic for us.”
“Awwww,” my sisters-in-law coo in unison.
“You guys are disgusting,” Emzee teases. “Almost makes me want to start dating again.”
“Ooh, speaking of which!” Tori says. “You know my friend Audrey from school?”
“She’s the edgy one from New York, right?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm. So she just got back from a trip back home and she went to this amazing gallery opening at some co-op loft space in Brooklyn where the artist makes all these ethereal sculptures out of wire and sheer fabric—” Tori stops talking just long enough to pull out her phone and start searching for the artist on Insta “—and I told her you’d totally be into that and she said he’s going to be in Chicago in a few weeks so I thought maybe you guys could—”
Emzee presses the back of her hand to her forehead in a woe-is-me gesture and whines, “Please don’t tell me you’ve already set me up on a blind date with this guy! I’ve had nothing but bad luck dating artists. They’re always so self-absorbed.”
“Don’t be like that,” Tori mock-scolds. “Here, just look at the sculptures.”
Rolling her eyes at me good-naturedly, Emzee takes the phone and starts scrolling. “Ah. Okay. These are pretty cool. Like ghosts, except…there’s so much movement here. Oh, wow.”
“Told you so,” Tori says, flashing me a smile.
It’s hard to smile back at their familiar antics when all I’ve been able to think about since Luka left yesterday is what he’s been up to in Vegas with Monica. My mind has been flooded with images of them holding hands on the plane, screwing in the hotel hot tub, drunkenly deciding to get married at one of those Elvis-themed chapels.
I know I’m just being frantic and jealous, but I can’t help how I feel. Even his “landed safely” text did nothing to assuage my suspicions, and I’ve been stalking Monica’s social media accounts just waiting for something incriminating to pop up. So far, it’s been nothing but the usual sexy selfies—people seem to be loving her new dark hair—and a few unimaginative shots of the Vegas strip lit up with all its flashy neon signs at night.
But he hadn’t picked up my call this morning. Was he just busy, or in bed with Monica?
