Katherine splashed cold water on her face. Her hands were shaking. In the mirror, her eyes were red-rimmed, her lipstick smudged.
Pull it together, Kat.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Kylie: We're out front. Hurry up.
Katherine typed back: Not feeling well. Going home.
She couldn't face him again. She couldn't sit in a car with him.
She slipped out the side door of the restaurant, bypassing the valet stand. The cool night air hit her face, but it didn't help the nausea.
She opened the Uber app. $85. Surge pricing.
She stared at the screen. That was her grocery budget for two weeks.
She closed the app and started walking toward Santa Monica Boulevard. The bus stop was three blocks away.
As she reached the corner, a line of cars pulled out of the Catch valet.
The black Escalade was second in line.
Katherine froze on the sidewalk.
Gus was in the front passenger seat this time. The window was down. He was looking out, scanning the street.
His eyes found her instantly.
She stood under the harsh light of a streetlamp, looking like a discarded doll.
Gus's hand moved to the door handle. The car slowed down. For a second, Katherine thought he was going to jump out.
"Gus, what are you looking at?" Kylie's voice drifted from the back seat.
Gus stiffened. He looked at Katherine one last time. His expression was unreadable-a mix of anger and something that looked painfully like longing.
Then he turned away. The car sped up, merging into the traffic.
Katherine watched it go.
She walked to the bus stop. The bench was sticky. A man in a torn coat was muttering to himself nearby.
The bus arrived, wheezing and rattling. Katherine climbed on, swiping her pass. The air inside smelled of stale sweat and disinfectant.
She sat in the back, resting her forehead against the cold glass.
Four years ago, she had been in a limousine with him. She had been a princess. Now she was here.
And he was still a king. A cruel, heartless king.
Thunder rumbled overhead. The sky opened up.
Rain.
Of course. It always rained when Gus Riddle broke her heart.
