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"That's because it is shady."

She sighed with a roll of her eyes. "You always make everything about you."

Once again, I laughed. It was my body’s response to absurdity.

"You're telling me my boyfriend was secretly dating my best friend, then got back together with me years later to manipulate you into leaving your husband, and somehow I'm making this about me?"

"See?" She pointed at me. "You're doing it right now."

I glanced toward the dance floor. People were laughing. Two-stepping. Enjoying their evening. The world kept spinning while mine tilted sideways.

Across the room, Damon stood talking to Rob’s grandma. The trio of female admirers was gone.

As if sensing me watching, he turned. Our eyes met. His smile was immediate. Instinctive. Like seeing me made him happy.

My throat tightened. I looked away. "Why are you telling me all this now?" I demanded.

Why hadn’t she just left it buried in the past?

"Because I'm tired of being treated like the villain. Your mom isn’t even speaking to me."

"You think admitting you slept with my boyfriend in high school gets you taken off the villain registry?"

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Here we go. Waterworks.

She sniffed, "We were in love."

"So was I!" My voice cracked.

I hated that she could still make me feel like the fifteen-year-old girl who'd believed she'd found her happily ever after.

A sigh fell from her lips, and her demeanor shifted. For one foolish second, I thought she might apologize.

Instead, she said, "Mikayla, come on. You had to know."

"Had to know what?!”

"That he loved me. Everyone knew."

Everyone knew. Two words that somehow hurt worse than everything else. All those friends who'd smiled to my face when they knew what was really going on. All the times I’d cried to Annie when Kenny hurt me.

Suddenly, I didn't feel angry. I felt stupid. "Did you know he was fucking his assistant? Did you know about Serene?"

She looked away. There was my answer.

"When I called you crying because of what I walked in on, and you told me I was being paranoid, did you know?" I demanded.

"He never slept with her. You misunderstood what was happening. You were just being paranoid,” Annie said dismissively.

"Are you actually for real?"

"He wouldn’t do that."

“Wouldn’t do what? Cheat?" I stared at her in shock and disbelief. “Can you hear yourself?”

“It’s not like that. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tears pooled in her lower lids. And some deeply conditioned part of me still wanted to comfort her. Because Annie cried. And I fixed things. She made messes. I cleaned them up.