Page 33 of American Beauty

“…quarterly revenue margins reflect a strong anal uptick…”

I groan. “Nope. We are not doing strong anal upticks this quarter but thanks.”

If Magnolia were here, she’d be cracking up right now—snorting into her coffee, already reaching for her phone to record me muttering curses at a confused robot.

I shake it off, push the chair back, and stand, trying to relieve the tension in my neck. But it’s not simple tension. It’s the heaviness that lingers when the one person who makes this bearable is so far away.

I glance at my desk hoping for a new message or missed call, but my phone’s not there. I pat my pockets and scan my desk again.

“Courtney?” I call out, already heading for the door.

She has my phone in hand. “You left it on my desk.”

I take it, nodding. “Thanks.”

I close the door behind me and glance down at the screen, thumbing it unlocked.

Finally! Magnolia messaged me.

I have good news! Call me the minute you get this text.

A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. My chest eases, the tension I’ve been carrying since this morning loosening a little. She has good news. I bet she got confirmation on returning to Sydney.

Her next text is a long paragraph. I already know I’m not in the right headspace to wrestle through reading that many words on my own, so I tap the text-to-speech option, letting the robotic voice read it out for me.

But what I hear next steals the air from my lungs.

“Alex, I’ve had time to think things over, and I realize this long-distance thing isn’t working. I’ve known for a while, but I didn’t have the guts to tell you. I’ve met someone here in Charleston, and he makes me happy. He doesn’t want commitment, and that’s what I need right now. I want to be with him. This relationship is over. I wish you the best in finding the wife you want, but it isn’t me. Don’t contact me. This is over.”

Silence falls.

My heart misses a beat. Then another.

I blink at the screen, my mind refusing to process what I just heard.

What?

I listen to the message again like I’ll find a different meaning the second time around. But it doesn’t change. It’s still there. Cold. Final. Brutal.

My pulse hammers in my ears.

I scroll back up and read the first text again.

I have good news! Call me the minute you get this text.

Then this. What the hell kind of good news ends in that?

My breath stutters, my lungs forgetting how to function. A cold sweat breaks along my back, beading at my temples as my fingers twitch around the phone.

No. No, this isn’t right.

Magnolia wouldn’t do this. Not like this. Not after everything. Not without a call. Not through a bloody text.

But the message is still there, staring back at me, mocking everything I thought I knew.

My stomach twists, a sharp, gutting ache I can’t ignore. My hands go numb. I sit frozen, eyes locked on the words, willing them to disappear. Willing this to be a joke. A mistake. Something.

Anything but what it looks like.

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