Maria.
For a single, foolish heartbeat, I thought Anabel was the surprise Noah had been so eager to show me.
That maybe this—her—was what he had meant. That this was some poorly thought-out attempt to explain something, to confront something, to fix something between them with me standing awkwardly in the middle.
But that illusion shattered the moment Noah spoke.
"What are you doing here?"
The words were sharp, stunned, nothing like the warm excitement he had worn just moments earlier. They weren't meant for me. They were meant for her.
Anabel's lips curved slowly, incredulously, as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard. She took a step toward him, her movements controlled, deliberate, every inch of her posture screaming wounded pride.
