My heart teetered on the edge of breaking as I watched the man I resisted falling in love with for so long laughing with the woman I could barely tolerate.

Near my boyfriend Nate's cruiser is a red Mercedes. Brenna.

The woman who came into our lives through Sean-Nate's best friend.

The woman Nate promised he'd never see again.

Now in the parking lot across the street, Nate kept smiling as he listened to her talk.

My pulse roared in my ears.

Their voices carried across the street, drifting straight into my car.

"So, for tomorrow night, get the wine I told you about," Brenna said, her hand outstretched toward Nate.

"I already bought it. It's in the chiller," he answered.

My boyfriend was planning a date with Brenna for tomorrow night. A picnic.

The back of my eyes were burning with tears I refused to let fall.

"I have to get going," Brenna said, her mouth turning down into a pout.

Nate's gaze flicked down to her mouth.

Brenna rose onto her toes, eyes closing as she leaned in.

I slammed on the horn.

They jumped apart, both turning toward the sound.

Nate's face went slack with horror.

"Josie," he shouted, trying to untangle his body from hers and move towards me at the same time.

That's right, you cheating jerk.

I threw the truck into gear and floored it. There was nowhere far enough away for me to get away from him.

———

I stared up at the dark ceiling after Nate left, too wired to sleep. I wasn't feeling tired and considered getting up to throw a load of laundry in while waiting for my coffee to brew. I never even realized my eyes closed, until I opened them again with the sun on my face.

I threw back the covers, grabbing my phone off the nightstand to type a quick text to my boss.

Overslept! Sorry, hoping ETA in 60.

I threw the phone on the bed, not waiting for a reply from the office.

One job.

I had one job: make sure my phone alarm was on and I failed. Nate normally made sure my alarm was set before he left in the morning. I didn't ask him to do it, it was just one of his quirks. I always checked it again afterwards; an old lack of trust habit learned the hard way.

But I got complacent.

The sun coming through the windows was warm, but an involuntary shiver wracked my body. Complacency and irresponsibility were words normally not in my personal vocabulary. Was my nervous system punishing me for my momentary lapse of laziness?

It felt like it.

I stepped in the shower, basking in the heat of the water against my chilled skin; unable to wash away the uneasy feeling crawling over me.

I was never late unless it was planned and absolutely necessary. My ex-Marine father instilled the importance of punctuality to my older brother Jason and I from a very young age. "If you're on time, you're late!"

Now Jase was following in Pop's footsteps. ROTC in college and straight into the Marines after graduation. A few years later he chose or was chosen to become a Raider, I didn't know how it worked. All I know is what Jase told me, they were the Marine Corps version of Special Forces or Black Ops or something. Somehow, my dorky older brother became cool enough to be living overseas doing the 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you' stuff.

And great, now I had the Mission: Impossible theme stuck in my head.

My legs were still a bit achey from last night. I couldn't help but smile and flush remembering Nate's hands and very talented tongue - oh, God, just stop. I didn't have time to get myself off on the memories even though I probably could. As it was, I wasn't going to be able to wash my hair, and it was a day past needing it.

Half an hour later, I climbed into my SUV and started the engine. I hit the button for the garage to open and mentally organized my workload for the day.

I wanted the next two days to go fast. Nate and I had a rare stretch of time off together. We were planning to spend it at his family's lake house up north.

It was the perfect spot to relax, secluded enough to feel cut off from the world, but only a two-hour drive from our house. We had recently started talking about marriage, and while we decided to wait until after I passed my CPA exam, the thought of becoming Nate's wife made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

--

I turned around and drove towards Main Street. Normally, I took the highway to get to the Hamilton office, but road crews had the on ramp completely blocked.

Secondary roads were going to be the way to travel this morning. It would add another 15 minutes to my already very late morning.

If you hadn't overslept, you would've made it through before they started construction.

I sighed and wondered if I'd see Nate. The detour for road construction would take me past some of his speed traps. If I saw him, I could do something to attract his attention until he pulled me over.

I know I'd surprise him, the color of my SUV was basic black and he wouldn't be expecting me in town. Due to oversleeping, I didn't have enough time to wash my hair. I did my best to make it presentable, pulling back in a slick bun. I could pull on my Elvis Costello readers while he walked up from behind. I'd pull them down my nose to look up at him over the lenses once the window was open and ask, "Is there a problem, officer?"

His eyes would go dark and hot. He'd adjust himself, groaning and cursing my name simultaneously. He's commented before I look like a hot librarian with my hair pulled back like this, and I loved what he liked to do to his hot librarian.

Nate was on days for the remainder of the week, so we'd be arriving home around the same time. I'd give him a chance to pull the pins and tangle his hands in my hair, eventually finding our way to the shower together. I loved when he washed my hair for me and then maybe we could have a little shower intercourse before dinner.

My grin faded as a yellow school bus pulled out in front of me and instantly came to a stop, red lights blinking. Stop and start. Stop and start. Rinse, repeat. School kids stood on the corners, waiting for their turn to file on one at a time.

I caught a glimpse of Nate's SUV cruiser up ahead, the back end poking out of a restaurant parking lot. That is not a very efficient way to catch speeders, Nathan.

As I reached for the CarPlay button to call him, my hand suddenly dropped, smile slipping from my face. The was another car pulled opposite alongside his cruiser.

A red, very expensive convertible Mercedes.

Brenna.

Screwing Brenna.

Heat flushed down my body, nerve endings firing all at once and landing in a prickly ball of pain behind my ribs. I fought the urge to slam on my brakes and block traffic until Nate explained just what the heck was going on.

The bus began to move again. As I passed by the parking lot, my boyfriend threw his head back and laughed at something Brenna said.

He laughed at something she said.

They were close enough to touch if they reached out. My head tilted to the side in angry confusion and tension replaced the heat. My jaw clenched as tightly as my hands on the steering wheel.

Since when did he know her well enough to throw his head back and laugh like that?

The lightness of his laughter was supposed to be mine.

Should I be claiming ownership of his laugh? No, of course not. Did I care? Oh no.

How many times have they met like this?

Is this spot a habit?

Do they meet in parking lots because Nate knows I'm normally two towns over and buried in spreadsheets? Even if I was running late - you're never late - he knew I took the bypass to miss the traffic through town.

Is that why he felt comfortable enough to spend any time with her?

Or did he just never worry about me coming across them like this, because what are the chances?

Obviously not zero!

Was Nate being freaking serious right now?

How many people drove by them, saw them together and never said a word to me but talked about it? Was Mabel Dawson at the pharmacy looking at me with pity when I picked up my prescriptions the other day?

Have seen Josie Reilly's boyfriend parked next to the real estate lady in the fancy red car? You know this is the second time she's been cheated on, right? The other boyfriend was a police officer too, don't you remember, Sue? Married that out of town girl. The Miller boy from over on Farmer Drive.

Did Pops know?

How could he not know? Of course he knew! Embarrassment flushed my cheeks at the thought of everyone talking about it behind my back again.

My Pops was the Mayor of Rockland Hills because he knew everyone's business before they did. If the gossip was juicy enough, he'd pour a free beer just to hear the rest. He was worse than an old lady addicted to her daytime stories.

He'd know if Nate was cheating on me - is that why he hadn't called me for the last few days? Because he couldn't figure out how to break the news my boyfriend was screwing around on me?

The wave of panic shooting down my spine at the thought made me gasp.

Oh, he better not be screwing Brenna.

My hands clenched the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my grip. The heat built to an inferno under my skin, the prickly ball evolving into stabbing thorns. My breathing hitched.

I was not going to cry.

But the urge to pull Brenna from her stupid Mercedes by her hair extensions and slam her face into the hood of her car until her stupid nose split under the impact. Imagining it happening in real time grounded for an all too brief moment.

I never used to have a tendency towards violence before but I could see how past experiences might make it an escalating problem.

Pops would claim it was Liv's influence, but I knew it was 100% Brenna's fault.

A scream built in my chest, tightening around the erratic beating of my heart, and I mashed my lips together, trying to keep it contained.

I needed to know for sure.

Maybe they just coincidentally met up here. There must be a logical explanation. Nate wouldn't - he couldn't, especially when he knew everything that Miller boy put me through.

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to scream, even though I really wanted to. Wanted to scream my throat raw just to feel the burn. Preferably while directing a litany of expletives at both of them.

What I was going to do was turn my Denali around and spy on them--just like every other suspicious girlfriend in history.

I did an illegal U-turn and cut behind the strip mall. I pulled into the parking spot directly across the street from where their cars sat. Now I had a front row seat and could watch them, particularly Nate. He was still smiling, giving off vibes there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

In a parking lot with Brenna, smiling in a way I felt should only ever be directed at me.

I called out sick to work. My arms clutched my stomach. My old friend, the nausea returned, waving hi to the thorny vines winding their way around and around my heart.

My brain wouldn't shut up.

How could I be so stupid to trust a cop again?