Page 48 of Hard to Break

This weekend away was scheduled for a chance to visit Coastal Gallery, but I’m hoping it’s also going to take the edge off.

It has to.

“We still have a couple of hours before the meeting. We could go shopping?” Nova suggests.

Two sets of eyes land on me.

“Brooke, you wake up wanting to shop,” Ruby reminds me. “Even when every Kappa failed the accounting final that year, you organized that emergency trip to Bal Harbor for retail therapy.”

“The koi ponds are very rejuvenating,” I say evenly.

“You look like you’re in mourning.” Ruby nudges my shoulder.

I glance down at my blue dress. “This is Balenciaga.”

The wind blows a piece of hair across my face, and I tuck it back behind my ear as my phone vibrates.

Vivaro has totally ghosted me. I took down the collaboration posts I made well in advance of the post I put up this morning of Ruby and me getting off the plane at LAX.

It has a hundred comments, but I’m looking at one in particular.

Miles left three blue hearts on it.

“What?” Ruby asks. “You thought you could walk away and Miles wouldn’t care?”

Nova cocks her head.

“I didn’t walk away,” I say.

“You moved out,” Nova clarifies.

“Yes. The Kodiaks are in the middle of a season, and Miles is on the verge of everything he wants.” I swallow the emotion that rises. “It’s messy. Everyone thinks I’m the problem because it’s happened since me.”

“So?”

“Well… technically, they’re right. Miles needs to focus on himself. At least for now.”

I turn the phone over in my hand, fantasizing about tossing it into the ocean.

Except that he got it for me. And even if I did throw it, I have two more that he bought me—in different colors.

Damn. Even when I try not to think about him, he’s right there.

“For the record, I want what’s best for you but I’m not sure I support this,” Ruby says.

“You’re going to just back off until the end of the season?” Nova adds.

I start to type out a message but delete it because that will give Miles an opening.

If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s playing the long game.

So am I.

“Isthat a piece of Elise’s line?” I ask Nova as she changes into a cute shift dress in the hotel suite she, Ruby, and I are sharing. Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders across the cream fabric.

“Her clothes are beautiful,” my friend gushes. “I bought some after your sorority retreat, but I wish they came in brighter colors.” She twists a piece of the blond-and-pink hair that’s been a mainstay for as long as I’ve known her.

“Not everyone is as genius with color as you.”

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