Page 182 of The Fine Line

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Lauren: Remember what you promised me. Call me after the game?

The world tilts. My vision tunnels. I grip the counter with both hands to keep from collapsing.

I can’t breathe.

No.

No no no no.

I want to scream. I want to break something. I want this to make sense.

But deep down, I realize?—

It makes all the sense in the world.

Isn’t this exactly what I always believed? What I alwaysknewwould happen?

Another ding.

This time, it’s from my phone.

The offer letter, right on cue.

The sound of Rhett’s bedroom door creaking open echoes faintly behind me.

Fight-or-flight kicks in like a lightning strike.

I’m already moving.

Down the hall, into my bedroom. Grabbing jeans, a bra, the nearest shirt. Shoving my laptop into my bag.

Rhett’s footsteps approach.

I duck into the bathroom. Splash cold water over my face, hoping—failing—to wake up from this nightmare. I pile my hair into a clip to keep from pulling it out. Brush my teeth hard enough to draw blood.

“Hey, baby?” he calls. “Looks like we’re out of eggs. I think I might grab us bagels. Sound good?”

I throw the door open and stride past him like he’s a stranger.

My purse is still on the counter. I reach for it.

“Are you in your sweet or salty mood?”

“What?” I snap.

“For your bagel,” he says, eyebrows drawing together. He steps behind me, arms sliding around my waist like nothing’s wrong.

I jolt away, skin crawling.

“No.”

“What?” he says again.

“No bagel,” I repeat. “I have to run.”

Far, far away.

He blinks. “Where are you going?”

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