I could picture her pouting as she spoke. Could picture her tucking that strand of hair behind her left ear with that slow, deliberate motion, the one that looked like shyness to anyone who hadn't learned to flinch at it.
Before I could even process her words, she invited me to the party.
But I didn't get a chance to respond before Dominic's voice returned to the line. "Well, you don't need to come," he said, a bit firmer this time, before hanging up.
The line went dead. I set the phone face-down on the table and stared at my plate.
But just a few minutes later, my phone buzzed again. A message from him, with his location pinned and a note attached: If you do stop by, grab a bag of tomato-flavored chips for Penelope from the convenience store.
I sighed and couldn't help but let out a sarcastic faint smile. Seven years, and I'd been reduced to an errand runner for the girl who'd replaced me in everything but name.