Page 81 of Surfer's Paradise

“Rosie?” Amy’s voice changed—sharper now, urgent. “Talk to me. What just happened?”

Rosie shook her head violently, sucking in air. “I—I can’t—I just—”

“Okay, okay,” Amy said quickly. “Breathe. Where are you?”

Rosie stumbled onto the next street corner, gripping a light pole for balance.

“I just saw him,” she whispered. “With her.”

Amy didn’t even ask who.

“Okay,” she said, voice calm, controlled. “Get in a fucking cab. Come to the gallery. I’ll pay. We’ll figure it out.”

Rosie swallowed hard, staring at the street, at the cars gliding past like the world wasn’t currently caving in on her.

“Rosie.”

Amy’s voice was unshakable.

“Get in the cab.”

And this time—Rosie listened.

Chapter 15

The wine was hitting.

Rosie could feel it in the warm flush creeping up her neck, in the way her shoulders had finally relaxed, in the way her words were pouring out faster than she could filter them.

Two glasses deep, she was done holding back.

She leaned both elbows on the bar, tapping her glass against the stem of Amy’s as they sat in their usual dark corner booth at the tiny Italian tapas bar beside the gallery.

“Okay, so let me just lay this out,” Rosie said, gesturing wildly, the wine making her voice looser, louder. “I have been furious at this man for an entire fucking year. A year, Amy. I wrote him off. I burned my Isaac shrine. I moved on.”

Amy arched a skeptical brow, sipping her wine. “Sure you did.”

Rosie pointed at her. “I did! I was moving on. And then—four days. Four fucking days and everything boils over.”

Amy huffed, shaking her head. “Sounds like a classic fuckboy re-entry move. Disappear. Ghost. And then show back up like you missed him.”

“Right?” Rosie groaned, taking another big sip, half-drunk now, fully in vent mode.

Amy tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

Rosie exhaled sharply, tapping her fingers against the stem of her glass.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

She set the glass down, pushing up her sleeves, ready to put it all on the table.

“History—you already know. Grew up together. Best friends. I was in love with him like, my whole life, but I knew nothing was ever going to happen. So, whatever. I got over it.”

Amy snorted. “Did you, though?”

“Let me live in my delusion.”

Amy smirked, motioning for her to continue.

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