Rebecca stands there like she's making a red-carpet appearance, one manicured hand resting onthe doorframe.
She's wearing a white linen dress that probably costs more than my truck, oversized sunglasses perched on her head. And beside her—
My coffee cup hits the saucer with a sharp clink.
Andrew fucking Keller.
My former best friend. My former surgical partner.
The man who sat across from me at poker nights for seven years, then testified against me in the malpractice suit that nearly ended my career, where he insinuated that my surgical methods resulted in a bad outcome.
The truth of the matter was that his own cousin, the anesthesiologist, administered the patient’s anesthesia improperly, almost killing the boy.
Now standing in front of me, he's got his arm slung around Rebecca's waist like he's marking his territory, his smirk widening when he spots me.
"Well, well," he says, loud enough for the entire diner to hear. "If it isn't Mount Juliet's newest celebrity."
Rebecca's laugh is all saccharine poison as they make their way toward the counter, pausingdeliberately at each table to greet people like they're running for mayor.
I can practically see the gossip spreading in their wake—whispers darting from the Johnson twins at Table 3 to old Mrs. Waverly standing by the pie case.
Darlene, bless her, slams a coffee pot down hard enough to make them both jump. "Y'all want a menu or you just here to put on a show?"
Rebecca's smile doesn't waver. "Just catching up with old friends, darlin’."
I watch as they take the booth directly in the center of the diner—Rebecca carefully arranging herself like she's posing for a magazine spread, Andrew stretching his arm across the back of the seat like he owns the place.
Then the performance begins.
"Oh, Andrew," she says, voice pitched just a little too loud. "Remember that medical conference in Miami? The one Richard missed our third anniversary for?"
Andrew chuckles, swirling his orange juice like it's scotch. "How could I forget? You weredevastated."
A hush falls over the surrounding tables. Mrs. Waverly's fork freezes halfway to her mouth.
Rebecca sighs dramatically, leaning forward. "Turns out, he wasn't alone in his hotel room like he claimed."
The gasp from the Johnson twins is audible.
My fingers tighten around my coffee cup. Across the diner, I see Mandy from the flower shop pull out her phone—probably texting half the town already.
Andrew shakes his head, all faux disappointment. "Some people never change."
A chair screeches at the counter.
Penny's older brother, Jesse, stands slowly, his broad shoulders blocking out the "Daily Specials" board behind him.
His sleeves are rolled up to show off forearms that could crush walnuts, and his expression could curdle milk.
The diner falls silent as he crosses the room in three strides, looming over my table like an approaching storm.
"You cheating on my sister, Hogan? I already warned you once." His voice carries to every corner of the diner.
I stand, keeping my voice low. "Jesse, don't do this here."
"Oh, I'll do it wherever I damn well please." He plants both hands on my table, making the silverware jump. "You got some explaining to do."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rebecca watching with barely concealed glee, her mimosa poised delicately in one hand. Andrew's smirking like he's won the lottery.