Page 8 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

Suddenly, everyone's phones beep simultaneously. One by one, my friends check their notifications, staring in horror. They look at me. Then, at Delaney.

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the tile floor. Everyone at the table looks startled, but their faces all blur together. I feel like I can't breathe, like I'm not getting enough oxygen. My heart races, pounding out of my chest; all the loud sounds in the room pulse to the staccato of my heart's rhythm, and I turn to walk out of the restaurant.

I hear my name being called, but I keep walking, stumbling, bumping into tables and chairs until I reach the exit. Pressing my hand to the door, I push, the late morning sun blinding. I don't care. I keep moving, storming down the sidewalk, my vision adapting to the bright sky.

Finally, I feel like I can breathe, and the realization has me gasping, as though I've been underwater for too long.

Bent over on the sidewalk, nearly a block from the restaurant, I'm sucking in oxygen like an asthmatic. People amble around, ignoring me, just another fixture in their way.

We've only been together six months, and despite his secretive nature, I've always thought he could be the one. People talk about love at first sight like it's a trope, but for me, it was real. Mateo's neither charming nor overly friendly or outgoing. But he's magnetic. Intense. Confident in the way some men are, sure of himself with no wasted words. A workaholic. But I'm a natural caretaker, and he made me feel like the center of the universe when I could pull his attention away from numbers and market trends with nothing more than a flick of my ponytail.

Mateo and I fit. Perfectly. I love him. I can't believe he would do this to me, to us.

I feel sick. I can't go home. I need to check my phone, but the idea of turning it on, logging into my accounts, pretending that everything issoperfect… I can't do it.

My breathing picks up again, rapid and shallow. The churning in my gut returns, but I can't blame the champagne this time. The urge to move, tofleeis overwhelming, but I've nowhere to go but home.

Ourhome.

Oh god, I'm going to be homeless. I need to pack my things, at least an overnight bag.

My brain starts making lists.

"Dammit, Lucy!" Portia shouts from half a block away.

"I'm sorry about the photo shoot," I mutter absently when she catches up to me on the sidewalk. Rolling her eyes, she grips my elbow and walks me to the mouth of an alleyway.

Though I consider Portia one of my closest friends, I don't want to burden her with my drama. All she sees is what I show everyone else—a sunny disposition and a cheerful smile. It's unfair to burden her with whatever spiral I'm about to fall into, but her being here, following me… it means a lot.

At twenty-seven, I assumed I had it all figured out. I thought I had everything I needed. A meager scholarship got me a generic degree from a small liberal arts school; a successful business that started as a side hustle. And when my lease ended, and Mateo asked me to move in with him, I thought,nowI've made it.

But I haven't made it. I'm failing. I've got no mental stability, I'm completely rocked, and I'm about to be homeless because Mateo has a mistress.

Of course he does. He's a high-powered CFO who manages billions of dollars. He assumed I would just be his trophy girlfriend, and god, do I feel like such an idiot.

No matter how much I love him, I'll never forgive him for cheating.

"Lucy!" Portia snaps, and I realize she's been cursing my name for a minute. Arms crossed, she's furious. "You can't believe all that shit, Lucy. Don't believe it for one second."

"What?"

"I saw the pictures. I assume that's why you've been off all morning?"

I swallow down the bile and nod.

"Cara and Mary-Anne flipped out on Delaney after you left. She called us all cunts for taking your side then stormed off."

"How could she do this?" I whisper. I suck in a breath and start crying, shoulders shaking. Portia envelopes me in a hug, rocking us back and forth, patting my back.

"Oh, honey…" She strokes my hair while I cry, and after a couple of minutes, I pull back.

I sniff, wiping my eyes. "I just don't understand how Mateo could do this."

What I was not expecting was for her to snort and then laugh. Catching herself, she shakes her head apologetically, but then starts laughing again.

"Portia!" I cry.

Thankfully, she stops laughing. "Sorry. Sorry, babe. I'm not laughing at you. That was totally inappropriate." She mimes zipping her lips. "It's just, there's no way those pictures are real. You need to talk to Mateo. He's fucking obsessed with you. Also, he hates Delaney. And she's totally obsessed with him. It doesn't add up."

---