The waiter at Le Petit looked at Avery's suitcase with open disdain. This was a place for ladies who lunched, not for women who looked like they were fleeing the country.
"I'm meeting Preston Vance," Avery said, ignoring his sneer.
She spotted him in the corner. Preston Vance. Her fiancé. He was checking his Rolex, tapping his foot. He looked annoyed. He looked like a man who was inconvenienced by the tragedy of her life.
Avery dragged her suitcase over. She didn't wait for him to stand. She sat down, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"You're late," Preston said. He took a sip of his espresso. "And you look like a mess."
"Good morning to you too, Preston," Avery said.
"Look, Avery," Preston started. He had a speech prepared. She could see it in the way he rehearsed his hand gestures. "With the scandal... and Ernest cutting you off... The Vance family can't be associated with this kind of drama."
He was breaking up with her. Just like in the book. He was going to dump her, and then two weeks later, he would be seen dining with Cheslie.
"I agree," Avery interrupted.
Preston blinked. "What?"
"I said, I agree. The script is tired, Preston."
She reached into her purse. She pulled out the ring. Five carats. Cushion cut. It caught the light, throwing rainbows across the white tablecloth.
She slid it across the marble. It made a sharp click as it hit his saucer.
"I'm dissolving the engagement," Avery said. Her voice was clear. It carried to the next table. "You're free."
Preston stared at the ring. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. He had expected begging. He had expected her to make a scene so he could look like the victim.
"You... you're breaking up with me?" His face flushed a patchy red. His ego was bruising right before her eyes.
"You were going to cheat on me with Cheslie anyway," Avery said, leaning back in her chair. "Let's save everyone the time."
"How dare you," Preston hissed. He leaned forward. "How dare you drag her into your filth."
"Keep the ring," Avery said, standing up. "Pawn it. You might need the money for your gambling debts."
The silence that fell over the nearby tables was absolute. Forks froze mid-air.
Preston shot up from his chair. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. His grip was hard, painful.
"You crazy bitch," he whispered. "Keep your voice down."
Avery looked at his hand on her wrist. A cold calm washed over her.
She didn't pull away. She stepped in. She rotated her wrist against his thumb-a simple leverage point she knew from a life Preston couldn't imagine.
Preston yelped. His grip broke instantly. He stumbled back, knocking into a waiter carrying a tray of water.
"Don't touch me," Avery said. Her eyes were dead. "Ever again."
The manager was rushing over. "Is there a problem here?"
Avery smoothed her shirt. She picked up the handle of her suitcase.
"No problem," she said, smiling politely at the manager. "Mr. Vance is just leaving."
She walked out of the cafe. The sun was brighter now. The air tasted sweeter. The "fiancé" plot armor was gone. She was exposed, but she was free.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Zoe.
I'm at the Motel 6 on Sunset. Room 204. Get here.
Avery hailed an Uber. She selected "UberX." Economy.
Inside the cafe, Preston Vance stared at the ring sitting in the spilled espresso. He was shaking with rage. He grabbed his phone and dialed Cheslie.
"You won't believe what your crazy sister just did," he spat into the phone.
