Page 8 of Ashes of Us
"I don't?—"
"Sit, Piper."
I sat.
Maya disappeared into the kitchen. I heard cabinets opening, the clink of glass, liquid pouring. She came back with a bottle and an extra glass of red wine.
"Drink," she said.
I accepted the glass and took a sip. Then another. The wine was cheap and too sweet, but at least I had something to do with my hands.
Maya sat down next to me, tucked her legs under her, and waited.
"He cheated on me," I said finally.
Her jaw dropped. "Liam?"
"Yes, Liam. Who else would—" I stopped. Took another drink. "Sorry. Yes. Liam cheated on me."
"With who?"
"Jenna. The new girl at his station."
"The one from the Christmas party? The brunette who wouldn't shut up about crossfit?"
I almost laughed. "I don't remember her talking about crossfit."
"Trust me, she did. For like twenty minutes." Maya drained half her wine in one gulp. "Okay. Start from the beginning. What happened?"
I told her. Not all of it, as I couldn't go through every detail again, but enough. The cupcakes. Walking in on them. Running. The confrontation at the apartment.
Maya's face got progressively darker as I talked. By the time I got to "since March," she was on her feet.
"MARCH?" She was pacing now, gesturing with her wine glass. "That piece of shit. That absolute piece of human garbage. That’s when you started planning for the cake, wasn’t it? You were—oh my God, you were addressing wedding invitations.”
"I know."
"And he was…” She made an incoherent noise of rage. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to actually kill him. We should key his truck."
"Maya—"
"No, I'm serious. Or we could tell his captain. Does his captain know? We should tell his captain. Isn't there like a code or something? Firefighters aren't supposed to?—"
"I don't know if there's a code."
"There should be a code." She drained the rest of her wine and refilled both our glasses. "What about telling his mom? Oh God, his mom is going to lose her mind. She loves you."
"I don't want to tell his mom."
"But—"
"Maya." I rubbed my eyes. They felt swollen and gritty. "I just want to... not think about it. For five minutes. Please."
She stopped pacing and looked at me. "Okay. Yeah. Okay." She sat back down, closer this time, and squeezed my hand. "Sorry. I'm just so fucking mad."
"I know."
"Like, actually homicidal."
