Page 60 of Claiming Pretty

Ava and I had never actually spent a morning lingering over breakfast together.

“And my husband prefers his coffee black. Like his heart,” Ava quipped, and the soft laughter that followed felt like a dagger between my ribs.

They knew these small, intimate details about each other. The kind you didn’t learn in passing. The kind you learned by spending days—weeks—together.

My stomach churned. Of course they knew. They’d spent an entire summer side by side. Eating together. Talking.Living.

The realization slammed into me, hollowing out my chest.

Ty knew Ava in ways I didn’t. In ways I hadn’t allowed myself to.

Because I’d spent our childhood being her bully, being cruel to her and pushing her away.

And as adults, I’d spent most of my time with her lurking in the shadows, watching her from a distance. Hiding who I really was.

But Ty? He’d been right there. With her. Every damn day. Then. And now.

He knew her. Really knew her.

Jealousy clawed its way up my throat, hot and suffocating, but I shoved it down. There wasn’t time to dwell. The clicking of heels and the steady thud of dress shoes signaled the director’s arrival, her cheery voice cutting through the air.

“Mr. and Mrs. Donahue! It’s so lovely to meet you. Please, follow me.”

Focus. Ty and Ava had done their part. And if I didn’t want their playacting the happy fucking couple to be for nothing, I had to do mine.

I peeked out of the office room, my pulse thundering in my ears.

On one end of the elegant hallway was the director’s polished cherry wood door. At the other end stood Ava and Ty, the perfect picture of a beautiful couple.

The director extended a hand, her smile practiced and professional, but my focus zeroed in onthem.

Ty’s arm was draped around Ava’s shoulders, possessiveand protective, and every fiber of my being screamed to rip it off her. Smash my fist into his smug, laughing face.

But we all had our roles to play.

They’re pretending. At leastAvawas pretending.

But then she glanced up at him, her smile radiant, as if the world began and ended with him. The way she leaned into him, relaxed and trusting, gutted me.

That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t for show.

A sharp, bitter pain stabbed through my chest, but I didn’t have time to wallow in it. The director led Ty and Ava down the hallway, their laughter floating back to me like an echo of everything I was losing.

As soon as the hallway cleared, I slipped out, moving fast but silent. I darted into the director’s office and moved behind the oversized mid-century desk. A sleek new computer sat there, powered on and ready for me.

I shoved a USB drive into the port, my movements efficient, but my thoughts chaotic.

The files began copying, the slow progress bar ticking forward, and I tried to focus.

My eyes kept darting to the closed door, my ears straining for footsteps, but all I could see—all I could feel—was Ava’s smile as she looked athim.

Bright. Genuine. The kind of smile that used to belong to me.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides.

I could still hear her laugh, light and musical, and the easy confidence in her tone when she rattled off Ty’s coffee order.

My stomach churned as jealousy clawed at me. Wherewas Ty touching her now? Her hand? The small of her back? Her face?

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