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Fran’s nose wrinkles and her lip curls. “It sounds exactly like Robert. You lost job opportunities because of him. Because of their lies.”

I can’t quite grasp the story she’s painting me. It’s painful, but it doesn’t feel like it’s mine. It’s like I’m hearing a story about someone else’s life. Someone else’s Robert. I’m trying to process when there’s a knock at Fran’s door. One knock and then a blonde with a baby carrier comes walking right into my best friend’s house.

“Hey,” she says, a pretty smile on her face, her voice winded. “She napped but—” Her eyes land on me and stick there. Whatever else she planned to say is lost to us all.

The blonde from the café last week.

“Oh,” she says. “Hello.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. Clearly, her saying my name at the café was unplanned. She knows the drill. She’s been informed. But like me, she wasn’t prepared for our unexpected meeting. She sets the baby carrier down.

“Hey, Stell.” Fran stiffens. “Sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was.” She stands but glances down at me. “I’m babysitting. Um… Rosalie, this is Stella Graves. She’s married to another Red Tail player. That’s how we met.” Fran’s words are clipped and unnatural.

Of course they are—I’ve met this woman before. I just don’t remember meeting her.

Still, the lousy acting continues. Stella holds out a hand toward me. “Um. Hello,” she says, her eyes locked on my face. “It’s… nice to meet you.”

I give the pretty blonde a quick handshake, and then I bolt for the front door. My heart thumps rapidly and my breaths struggle to come. I feel sick. My body revolts against me. I wipe at an escaped tear skidding down my cheek and attempt to avoid the panic rising through me. “I need to go.”

“Oh no. Don’t go, Rose.” Fran follows after me.

“I’m leaving.” Stella’s hands flail. “You stay. I’ll go.”

I shake my head, which only causes another tear to fall. I peer back at the women, both with tears in their eyes.

It’s strange and odd having a woman you don’t know cry for you—or about you. And it doesn’t help the panic racing through my veins.

“I can’t stay,” I say. And then I’m gone.

I sit inside my car until the panic subsides.

I’m not crying over Robert—I didn’t live through the horror Fran relayed to me. It’s like it was someone else’s life and I heard the story for the first time. That wasn’t my Robert Pattinson. Maybe it was the vampire.

When my breathing is even, I walk up to my house and open the door to the small two-bedroom house that Gram and I are renting together. If anyone has reason to mourn their relationship, it’s her. The sweet woman sitting on our couch, feet up on the coffee table, a green avocado mask covering her face with holes only for her eyes, lips, and nostrils, lost the love of her life after sixty years of marriage.

“Rosalie?” she says, sounding like a second-rate ventriloquist.

“It’s me, Gram.”

She keeps her eyes shut but pats the space on the couch next to her. Opera music plays softly over the speakers in our small living room and the lights are dimmed. Grammy is apparently giving herself a spa afternoon.

I plop down next to her, and she opens one eye to peek at me. Sitting up straighter, she blinks her blue-gray eyes open and looks at me. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

“Do you know about Margo?”

“Of course I know about Margo.”

I nod. I’m not mad at her or anyone else. I’m not blaming anyone—though it sounds like I should be blaming Robert. I just don’t know how to. He felt like the regular old Robert today. Not some beast who cheated on his long-term girlfriend. Maybe Fran has misinformation.

“Was it really as awful as Fran made it out to be?”

Grammy’s avocado brows lift on her head. “That friend of yours is overly optimistic about everything. I’m guessing it was much worse than what she presented.”

I scoff and lay my head back, shutting my eyes and wishing I had a gooey mask like Gram’s to block out the world for a time. “I don’t remember feeling hurt or betrayed. It’s an awful story. It’s sad. It’s so wrong. But I didn’t live it.”

“You did⁠—”

“Okay, well, I don’t remember living it. Fran said it changed me.” I lick my lips and peek at Grammy.

“It did. Robert might as well have been a vampire. He sucked the life right out of you. Do not allow him to do it again, dearest. Yes, it made you stronger in the end. But it took a long time to heal, and it made you wary of love.”