The Wine's Divine | Complete

II

Ember turned to follow her stare, but Bel pulled her back. "Don't. It's nothing, " she shrugged. "Just... dad bod in a speedo."

Ember hesitated, watching her friend. She'd seen Bel's reaction to the frequent sighting of dad bod in a speedo—unsolicited outrage—but that wasn't this. No, the look on her friend's face was deadly. She spun around, her eyes instantly finding the source of Bel's irritation.

Tyler's face came into sharp agonizing focus, arm draped around Miranda Melton. They lingered outside of a dimmed storefront, like two beautiful sculptures erected solely to torture her.

Ember wiggled out of her friend's grasp and marched forward.

"Dammit, Em!" Bel called after her, "It's not worth it!"

Like hell. The heat of her tears boiled her blood as she watched her ex-boyfriend wrap his arms around another girl. Less than two days ago those arms were wrapped around her, those lips pressed to hers. Her heart felt as though it would disintegrate inside her chest.

There was no warning before her world came crashing down around her, no hint that the love of her life didn't love her anymore. She wanted him to hurt too, she wanted the color to drain from his face along with all the hopes and dreams they'd shared.

As she came to a stop in front of them, the poison in her heart seeped into her bloodstream, it traveled through her veins and gripped her brain, weakening her knees and slicing at her vocal cords.

"Look who it is baby!" Miranda's upbeat voice made Ember want to stick a pin in her overinflated head and collapse her ego.

"Shit." Tyler groaned, his eyes looking everywhere but into Embers.

Ember tried to shake Miranda's triumphant glare, focusing on her ex-boyfriend, but the lump in her throat gave her away. "You couldn't even wait a full twenty-four hours before you put your new girlfriend on display?"

Miranda laughed, her hands reaching up to caress Tyler's chest. "Let it go, Em, don't embarrass yourself."

Ember trembled.

Tyler had always had her back, he'd been her protector, knight in shining armor, but here he was, refusing to meet her gaze as she struggled with her new reality. It was stupid, but he was all she wanted. Her breath quickened, and her mouth twisted, fighting a sob. "Tyler? Did I mean anything to you?"

He shrugged, his bottom lip protruding in a puppy-like expression as if he had just been caught peeing on the rug. "Not really. You were just... easy."

"See, honey? Tyler's only got eyes for one girl," Miranda's southern accent oozed like molasses—hot sticky molasses covered in dead insects. "And they certainly don't wear denim shorts from 2010."

"Miranda is it?"

Ember stiffened. She'd felt the warmth of a body behind her, she'd even been thankful for the backup, her plan of attack failing miserably as Tyler and Miranda clung to each other in front of her, like a shrine to her misery. She'd even assumed it was Bel, but the voice—high class, refined, and clearly British—was certainly not her friend's.

"Do I know you?" Miranda asked with an endearing eye roll. What a class act.

"No, and thank the goddess for that." A young woman stepped in front of Ember, her blonde hair clipped perfectly to the back of her head, atop a long lean neck. "You're in the way."

Miranda stared at the woman, clearly offended by the insinuation, as if she, Miranda Milton, could ever be in the way of anything.

"This is my shop," the woman pointed up at a wooden sign that read: You had me at Merlot.

Miranda stayed rooted, uncertain of what to make of her.

"Let's go," Tyler grunted, pulling Miranda away.

"Yes, do run away," the woman said, sweeping her hands in front of her as if dispersing a bad smell, "Oh and Miranda," she called as the couple retreated down the boardwalk, "You've got a sort of... tissue attempting an escape from your brazier, perhaps you can use it to wipe your tears when your darling boyfriend finds a new conquest."