Free Five Ways to Fall by K. A. Tucker

professional clothes—minus the cute and trendy cowboy boots that I’d normally never wear but Nicki insisted must be worn with this dress—Caroline may not recognize me. I hope not. Just in case, though, I open the menu and prop it up, ready to duck behind it if necessary.
    “I’m coming down.”
    “No, you’re not, because she will recognize you.” With Lina living next door to them for months, it was impossible to avoid her in the hall completely. Knowing Lina, she would have been skewering Caroline with her eyes at every single chance. “Why is she here?” A second, smaller, gasp. “Did they move to Miami?” Jared always wanted to get a ship-welding job down here.
    “I dunno. What does his Facebook profile say?”
    “I haven’t been on it since Cancún.” As hard as it was to wean myself off that addiction—my only connection to Jared—I couldn’t bear seeing the proof of them married. Just the idea still feels like a knife plunging into my stomach.
    “Okay, just a sec. Let me see if I can get on . . .” I hear the clatter of a keyboard on the other end. “Yup. They just moved to Miami. Two weeks ago.”
    “Shit,” I mutter more to myself, a strange, unpleasant feeling stirring in my chest, adding softly, “I guess he got the ship-welding job.” We used to lie in bed at night with the lights dimmed and Muse—his favorite band—playing softly while he doodled ships all over my body, explaining the different parts and what his work would entail. I couldn’t care less about ships, but I’d lie still and let him get it out of his system. I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d get distracted by the naked canvas.
    “What does she do again?”
    “Besides destroying marriages and tearing out people’s hearts?” I’ve found it helps to paint her as the villain here, though I know I should be directing at least some of that hatred at Jared.
    Ignoring my acidity, Lina offers, “Well, at least Miami’s a big city.”
    “And yet it’s a fucking small world, obviously.”
    “Deep breaths, Reese,” she coaches calmly. As though she’s afraid of what I may do. I can’t blame her. I’ve never been above punching a girl when she deserves it.
    “I’m fine,” I snap, watching the key factor in my heartbreak a fork’s launch away, in her gingham dress—really? Outside of Disney World and I Love Lucy , who the hell wears gingham anyway?—and her straight hair stretching down her back. A strange, perverse pleasure blossoms inside of me as I watch the woman who had no issues stepping in to rip my life right out from under me giggle away with a friend, unaware of my presence.
    I’ve never actually spoken to her. Aside from a few details Jared provided me in the beginning of our relationship—they were childhood family friends who turned into high school sweethearts, though she lived in Savannah—he never talked about her. I thought she was long gone from his life. Clearly not.
    What made him want to marry her? Sure, I guess she’s pretty, in that average, boring way. She appears to be bubbly and sweet and probably never curses. I’m guessing she knows how to wave a pom-pom and I’d bet money she was part of some Delta Fuck You sorority. But what does he see in her? What about her makes sense to him?
    Jared always said he couldn’t stand those kinds of girls; that I was fresh air to him, after years of being suffocated by what his wealthy parents wanted of him, of his life.
    That he and I made sense.
    That he couldn’t breathe without me.
    I watch her run a hand through her hair, the sparkle from that diamond I know Jared can’t afford on his salary catching my eye, reminding me that it doesn’t matter what I don’t see. All that matters is what Jared does see.
    I guess he found a way to breathe without me after all.
    I unconsciously find myself twirling the simple yet beautiful vintage sterling silver and pearl ring on my finger that Jared surprised me with the morning of