“Where are you going?” Rose asks.

“A, uh, work emergency has come up. Some sort of color issue for the new line.” The lie comes easily and I’m almost ashamed of it.

Rose studies me, trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth or not. I never lie about stuff like this. But there are a lot of things I never did before, until I became involved with Ryder.

“You didn’t even get to eat.” Lily pushes the plate of sautéed shrimp toward me. “Have a couple before you leave.”

I grab one and pop it into my mouth, chewing quickly before I swallow. Great. Now I’ll have weird shrimp garlic breath when I see Ryder. I need some gum. Or to make time to brush my teeth before we see each other.

Crap. I’m getting ahead of myself. I never even responded to him. And when I check my phone, I see he kept on texting me.

Violet?

Can you get away from your sisters soon?

I can understand if you don’t want to see me.

I fucked up.

I’m sorry.

I stare at the five messages he left me in the time span of about three minutes, and the rush of happiness that threatens to take over me is ridiculous. Those texts make me think he cares.

Foolish. But true.

Meet me at my place in an hour? I say in response.

He waits a few beats before he replies.

I’ll be there.

“I gotta go,” I repeat, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. I ignore my sisters’ protests, ignore everything but my intent on getting out of here and catching a cab back to my building.

I feel like I’m walking in a fog as I make my way through the crowded restaurant, my gaze focused on the front doors. They’re so far away it’ll be an eternity before I make it there and when I feel fingers close around the crook of my elbow, I turn, ready to tell Rose or Lily to let me go.

But it’s not one of my sisters holding me back.

It’s Zachary.

“Violet.” He says my name in this quiet, downright reverent voice, as if he can’t believe I’m standing in front of him. I stand up straighter, pissed that I’m dressed so casually in my favorite workout T-shirt and yoga pants. I came straight from the gym to this brunch/lunch date with Rose and Lily, not really caring what I looked like. Still in a funk over Friday night, which was so stupid.

Though maybe my sadness wasn’t in vain after all.

“Let go of me,” I murmur, and Zachary immediately drops hold of my arm but he doesn’t move out of my way. “I’m leaving.”

“I can see that.” He steps to the side and I start walking, irritated when he falls in beside me. “What a coincidence that I find you here.”

“I’m sure.” I refuse to look him in the eye. He’s dressed in crisp khaki pants and a white cotton button-down shirt, effortless and handsome as always. A few weeks ago I would have stood beside him, wearing one of my more casual dresses, not a hair out of place.

I’m not even wearing makeup today. My sisters weren’t either. If Grandma caught us looking like that while out in public, she’d flip.

“Are you really going to let it end like this?” he asks after I push open the double doors with a hard shove, Zachary keeping pace right next to me.

“Like what?” I turn on him, not caring that we’re going to fight out in public in front of a popular Manhattan restaurant. I’m over it. Over keeping up the pretense of this falsely perfect life. “Me knowing that you’re a cheating bastard? Finding out that you went after that promotion behind my back? That you don’t really care about me at all? If so, then yes. That’s exactly how we’re going to end this.”

He takes a step toward me, his expression downright menacing. I won’t back down, though. I refuse to. “You never protested.”

I frown. “What?”

“You never protested when I was out fucking around. Ever. After awhile I was trying to get caught in the hopes that I would get some sort of reaction out of you, but still … nothing.” He throws his arms up in the air, frustration in his every move. “All I wanted was for you to care, Violet.”

Oh. My. God. He’s blaming me for his infidelities. I can’t believe it. “Are you serious? Turning this around so your cheating is somehow my fault because I wouldn’t react?”

“If you would’ve put your foot down, I would’ve stopped,” he says simply.

Hate and rage rise within me, an ugly mixture I don’t want to deal with. Too late. It’s filling my veins, my every pore, climbing up my throat like bile until I can’t hold it back any longer. “Fuck you, Zachary. Fuck you and all your whores. I hope you rot in hell.”

I start to leave, but his chilling words stop me.

“He’s using you, too, you know.” At my frown of confusion he helps me out by saying, “McKay. Don’t you think it’s strange how all of a sudden he takes an interest in you? And Pilar takes an interest in me? If you don’t suspect those two are up to something then you’re dumber than I thought.”

“Fuck you,” I spit out again, his words proving just what Zachary thought of me.

I hate him.

Turning away from him, I make my escape, my head bent, my stride fast. I need to get out of here. Find a taxi and get back home so I can prepare for Ryder. What Zachary said repeats in my head again and again. Words I wish I could forget but I can’t.

If you don’t suspect those two are up to something …