Page 33 of Dear Ripley

A blood-curdling scream ripped itself from my chest. It hadn’t crossed my mind that someone else I knew might catch me creeping on my ex. It was like I’d forgotten which town I was in.

And of the fact that everyone did, in fact, seem to do their shopping at the exact same time. I’d need to remember that and come at literally any other time in future.

Harlow laughed. “You okay there?”

“Jesus, Harlow. Warn a person next time.”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear me approaching very loudly. You’re the one making eyes at pasta.”

“Oh my god. Keep your voice down,” I whispered urgently, more embarrassed than I’d ever admit.

“Why? You just let out a scream that every single person in the whole store will have heard. I don’t think me talking is going to be nearly as disruptive.”

“It wasn’t that loud,” I insisted, hopelessly. It was that loud. I just wished it hadn’t been.

She stared at me before gesturing around us to the people who were only just bringing their own stress levels back to normal and returning to their shopping. I supposed that if someone else had screamed like that, I’d have been terrified and looking at them too.

“Ripley’s in the next aisle,” I said, my voice as quiet as I could make it.

“Oh, well, she definitely heard you,” Harlow replied, at least making the effort to whisper now.

I groaned. “Yes, thank you, Sherlock.”

While most of the people around us had begun moving around again, a group at the end of the aisle caught my eye. My stomach clenched before I even looked directly at them, something in me just knowing who it was going to be.

Sure enough, there was Ripley, confused, shocked, and more than a little bit angry. She was flanked by Morgan and Mrs. Sylvester, both of whom looked delighted, though in different ways.

Mrs. Sylvester was clearly happy to get the gossip of what she thought was mine and Ripley’s first encounter back in Jackson Point. And there went any hope of the entire town not hearing that I was screaming in the middle of the grocery store.

Her eyes bounced from me to Ripley, and back again, clearly waiting for something dramatic. I wasn’t sure whether she was expecting us to run into each other’s arms, or start fighting in the aisle. I was even less sure which one she’d prefer. It was a tough call which would make better gossip for her.

Morgan, meanwhile, was also flicking her eyes between the two of us. She, however, didn’t seem to be waiting for a declaration or a fight. She didn’t think it was our first encounter. I was sure Ripley had told her all about the horrendous thing. Maybe about the carnation too. My insides cringed in mortification just thinking about it. I was not coming off well on this trip at all.

“Ah,” Harlow said, sounding inexplicably delighted to see them.

Without warning, she took off towards them, leaving me standing alone and betrayed by my best friend. What part of me being here for her despite my job and my history was she not getting? Surely she shouldn’t be fraternizing with the enemy when she was the reason I’d just mortally embarrassed myself in front of her again?

Harlow was in front of Ripley, evidently speaking, for a few seconds before Ripley finally ripped her eyes from me to look at her. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not about the fact that looking away from me seemed to require such conscious effort. She didn’t look happy, but there was still something about having Ripley’s gaze on me that felt undeniably wonderful.

She frowned at Harlow, and that was definitely a more negative emotion than she’d been staring at me with. I wondered what Harlow could possibly have to say to her.

In all the years that Harlow had still been visiting, she’d never mentioned talking to Ripley. I’d—perhaps foolishly—assumed they never spoke. But Harlow hadn’t approached her like this was their first conversation in eight years.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.

Ripley rolled her eyes, Morgan looked amused beside her, and Mrs. Sylvester looked lost and confused. Whatever Harlow was saying, it was in a code only Ripley and Morgan understood.

Only a moment later, she turned on her heel, looking incredibly happy with herself, and started back towards me. Over her shoulder, Morgan was watching me with anticipation, but I could hardly register that when Ripley was looking at me so speculatively.

I really hoped Harlow hadn’t told her I’d been listening to her conversation.

Ripley turned, grabbed Morgan’s wrist, and stalked off before Harlow made it back to me, leaving me oddly bereft. Breakups were weird.

“What the hell was that?” I asked once Harlow was back in front of me.

“That?” she said, her eyebrows furrowed and critical. “Hardly a nice way to refer to your ex-wife, Alicia. She’s a person, you know?”

I wondered whether it was possible to murder someone with a box of pasta. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Why the hell are you just walking up to Ripley like you’re best friends, and having a little chat?”

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