Page 118 of My Ex's Best Friend

I want to tell him to eff off. But I guess he can help me here.

"Actually," I say. "I'm looking for her. Have you seen Kiera or her family?"

Before Kevin can reply, the girl next to him replies. "I think I saw her mom at Trader Joe's."

"Are you sure?"

"Look at you," Kevin smirks. "You're like a lost puppy. Don't worry, you'll find your girlfriend soon."

"Thanks, Kevin."

He continues to smirk at me as I walk past him. Some things really never do change.

I walk past the Trader's Joe that the lady mentioned but there's no sight of either their car, or Kiera's mother.

Where can they be?

Maybe I should just go back to her house and wait for her to come back.

They can't be gone for long.

But the urge to find Kiera increases exponentially. I don't understand the urgency, the itch under my skin. I just need to see her.

Somehow.

I'm walking past Trader's Joe as a couple is loading their trunk with groceries. It takes me a few moments to place them.

And then it finally clicks.

I jog over to them just as they are shutting the trunk close.

"Hi," I say, introducing myself. "Wyatt Crofton, right?"

The man, Kiera's uncle, squints at me. "Yes."

"I'm Jake."

"Oh, my God, little Jakey," his wife says, coming around to give me a hug. "Look at how grown up you are."

"Who's Jake?" Wyatt Crofton says.

"Kiera's best friend, silly. These two were basically attached at the hips."

"Ah, that's right," the man replies, though I doubt he still recognizes me.

"What's going on with you?" his wife asks.

"Actually, I was looking for Kiera," I say. "She's not home. Do you know where she is?"

I know I probably sound stupid.

"No, dear. I wish I could tell you. But Kiera's mother mentioned that they might be going away for the weekend. So, maybe that's where they are."

My stomach sinks. They left town? Her parents didn't mention it when I went by their house yesterday.

I was wrong. Maybe they are trying to get rid of me.

"Okay, thanks, I guess," I say. Before she can say anything else, I start walking away, feeling dejected.

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