Page 100 of If the Stars Align

And he’s with a woman whoisn’tSunny.

At first, they’re only looking at bottles of cabernet. Innocent enough.

But then he puts an arm around her shoulder.

After a minute, his hand drops to her waist.

Then he pulls her close to him.

And he kisses her.

I’m going to fucking kill him.

My muscles brace and I take a step in their direction.

But then the woman spins around to look at the bottles behind her.

And that’s when I see her face.

Jesus Christ.

It’s Sunny—but it’snot.

Her hair is stick-straight.

Her clothes are tailored. Expensive. She’s wearing Christian Louboutin heels.

She’s so,sothin. It makes my heart break.

Why isn’t she eating?

Is she sick? Is she stressed? Is it…him?

I want to run to the bakery counter and buy her a croissant.

I want to take her out for pasta, and ice cream, and feed her, and kiss her, and make sure she’s okay.

I want to steal her away from him.

But she’s smiling.

Now she’s laughing.

She’s wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

They choose a bottle.

And walk away.

All I can think is—what the fuck are they doing in New York?—but then I remember Sunny mentioning he’s from here.

When they’re out of sight, my anxiety turns down slightly,but it’s not the low hum I’ve become accustomed to either.

It’s louder.

I walk back to the apartment where I’ve been staying and, as soon as I lock the door behind me, I take deep breaths in and out. Still, when I look at my reflection in the front hall mirror, my heart jolts from the shock of what’s staring back at me.

It’s just makeup. Chill the fuck out.