Page 5 of I Knew You Were Trouble

My cheeks instantly flame and I try my best to stifle the smile, but it appears anyway.

‘Ah-hah!’ she says, wagging a finger at me. ‘You fancy him.’

‘I… Well, yes, he’s a very handsome man, but a little perspective, please? I’ve just found out my fiancé is a fake. It’s hardly the time to indulge in sexy thoughts about another man.’

‘Au contraire, dear cousin, this isexactlythe time for that – and not onlythinkingabout him…’ She shimmies her shoulders and raises her brows suggestively.

Laughter erupts out of me, a much-needed release after the evening’s revelations. My love life may be in tatters, but at least my sense of humour is intact.

For now, anyway.

2

KATE

I jolt awake from a fitful sleep, feeling disgusting. My mouth’s dry, my stomach is roiling, and my head might explode any second now.

I’m completely wrung out. Like if a used tissue were a person.

I roll onto my side and shut my eyes, deliberately slowing my breathing to quell the queasiness and ease the headache. It helps – a little.

Last night was… what?Devastatingcomes to mind.

My engagement is a lie.

I conjure Jon’s face in my mind, tightness creeping into my chest. I was delighted when I met him through the matchmaking agency. He was everything I was looking for – or thought I was.

He’s attentive when we’re together, yet he also loves how independent I am, that we’re not one of those couples who needs to spend every waking moment at each other’s side – perfect for someone as career-oriented as I am. And he appreciates that I’m my own person, that my identity isn’t dependent on his.

His identity – hah! Whatever that is.

Admittedly, sex with Jon has always been… well, less than mind-blowing, but I’ve never really minded. I fell in love a dozen times in my twenties and early-thirties – passionately, longingly, achingly in love – and each relationship ended in heartbreak. Heartbreak that knocked me sideways and took (what felt like) an eternity to recover from. At thirty-seven, I’m now far more pragmatic. I will happily forgo passion for contentedness, stability, and shared values, for a love built on mutual respect.

Only, all of that was bogus. Everything I thought I had with Jon was a forgery constructed by a crafty, scheming pretender.

For the fiftieth time since Willem buzzed my flat and blew my world apart, I ask myself,Was any of it real?

From my end, it was. I care for Jon –cared, I remind myself. All that’s in the past now. I’ve drawn a proverbial line in the sand, never to be crossed again. Jon can sod off.

Of course, I’ll have to confront him eventually – someday, as far into the future as possible – but the mere thought of it sends another wave of nausea ripping through me. It’s all too fresh to be thinking that far ahead – there’s a gaping wound in my heart.Andmy ego. How could I have been so stupid?

‘Ugh,’ I groan, throwing an arm over my face.

‘That good, huh?’ asks Margot, startling me.

I flip over and prop myself up, squinting at her. ‘I forgot you were here.’

‘I’ll try not to take that personally,’ she retorts dryly, surrendering to a loud yawn.

‘Sorry. And thanks for staying.’

‘I could hardly leave you alone – not once the crying started.’

‘Right.’ I plop back onto my pillow face-down.

If she were anyone else, I’d feel foolish for the loud and lengthy sobbing session that capped off our evening. Until then, I thought I was handling the situation well –verywell.

After we put away the ‘envelope of secrets’ (as I dubbed it), we ordered takeaway. Then Margot insisted we open the bottle of Champagne I’d been saving for a special occasion. In her mind, my ‘emancipation from Jon’s evil clutches’ – her exact words –wasa special occasion. I relented, raising my glass to toast the ‘lying bastard’ then downing a third of it in one go.

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