“Too damn right.” Annabel’s thumbs flew over the keys. “I’m going to tell her exactly who I am.”
“Wait, you’re using my profile,” Kirsten tried, but it was too late. The message had been sent.
Dearest Annabel here, Crawford is my boyfriend of five years, fiancé of one. We were meant to be getting married next summer. I hope he rots in hell.
On the bright side, at least that was one less wedding I’d have to attend, one less bridesmaid dress I’d have to don. Clearly, I didn’t say that part out loud.
“I’m such a mess.” Annabel dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t believe he’d do this.”
“It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “We can fix it.”
“What am I supposed to do? I mean, we live together.”
“Change the locks? Whose name is on the title deed?”
For the first time in an hour, Annabel smiled. “Mine. I own the apartment. How do I find a locksmith?”
“Let me check into that.”
Once again, I hoped my secret weapon would come to the rescue. I messaged Heath.
Me
Do you know of a locksmith who might be available at short notice? As in, immediately?
Heath
Did you get locked out?
Me
My friend’s boyfriend cheated on her, and we’re doing an eviction.
Heath
On Valentine’s Day? Damn.
Meanwhile, Rebecca had replied.
OMG, I’m so sorry! He told me he was single. If it helps, I broke his nose. Are you okay?
Kirsten took over.
We’re about to perform an exorcism. If you’re looking for somewhere to put the cheating bastard’s stuff, you can add it to the pile that will be on the pavement outside his ex-apartment in approximately one hour.
Salma was calling Jerilyn, plus a cab because we wouldn’t all fit into the Mercedes. Polly headed next door to the kitchen, and I heard bottles clinking.
That sounds great! Please let me know where. Again, I’m so sorry—we’ve been involved for three months, and he definitely wasn’t wearing a ring. I’m not that sort of girl.
Heath
Blackwood has a locksmith on call—I can get you the discounted rate.
Me
My hero.
Heath