Page 143 of Ink Me Three Times
The jeans pinch. The bra digs. My body feels foreign, like it’s already halfway into the next chapter of my life without asking if I’m ready.
I tug my hair into something halfway between effort and surrender. My hands tremble as I pour coffee into two cups,double checking the lids as if that will somehow make this feel human.
The coffee ritual helps. Two cups. Extra sugar in his, because he always says bitter coffee is for bitter people. I wish I could believe this means something.
This is just a conversation.Nota reckoning.
I get to the park five minutes early.
The morning is quiet in that eerie way only small towns manage, like the earth’s holding its breath. I find the bench by the sycamores, same one where Freddie once confessed that he couldn’t imagine his life without his daughter. Same place where, not so long ago, I started to believe that maybe there could be a version of this life that didn’t end in heart break.
The sunlight filters through the leaves, dappling the ground with warmth that doesn’t reach my bones.
I sit.
I wait.
And then…
A figure approaches.
My heart lifts in my throat, expectant. Hopeful.
But that hope curdles into dread within seconds.
Because it’s not him.
It’sher.
My stomach bottoms out.
The heels, those ridiculous stilettos crunching across the gravel path, give her away before her face does. But there she is, sauntering through the morning, a wasp disguised as a woman.
Trina.
I stand up so fast I nearly upend the coffee.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap, already reaching for my phone, fight-or-flight boiling in my veins.
Trina smiles.
Calm. Poised. Practiced. Like she’s not the human equivalent of a loaded gun.
“I needed to chat,” she says breezily, flicking imaginary lint off her designer jacket. “Freddie’s busy, so I thought I’d take his place.”
My pulse spikes. “Where is he? What did you do?”
“Oh, relax,” she drawls, rolling her eyes as if I’m being hysterical. “He’s fine. Probably still at home watching cartoons with his little sidekick. Left his phone in the café yesterday, so I borrowed it.”
Borrowed it.
Right, that makes any of this okay.
I crack, splinter, but don’t break.
“You what?”
“Oh, calm down.” Her voice is syrupy now. Mocking. “I just needed to clear the air. Woman to woman.”
