I feel a cold chill run down my spine.
No, that can’t be true …
“But ... he was with me last night.” The words are barely a whisper, a plea for this not to be true.
“I know, and that’s why I’m worried about you,” Lily says softly. “There’s something else, Carlie. I wouldn’t have believed that he was over there, but I guess Jillian posted a photo of Adam at her door this morning with a really nasty caption.”
My fingers tremble as I open Instagram. Part of me is glad that I keep off social media so I can focus on writing—not that it’s been going well lately. The other part is kicking myself after the last time.
He’s been posting about our workouts and my progress. I should have been following Adam’s IG so I can keep tabs on things. If for no other reason than to protect myself from being blindsided like this.
I scroll through Adam’s profile. It’s a sea of pictures of him, of his new workout routine at home, and images of the logo he’s been working on for Foxx Fitness. Then, there are the few Reels and images of our workouts together.
There are comments everywhere claiming he’s just using me as a great before and after to launch Foxx Fitness. Some are just fucking rude—saying he’s a player—and it’s obvious based on his dating history.
I click over to someone else’s profile—a conspiracy post, by the looks of it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s a collage of his recent dating history. There are fit, muscled women with big boobs and legs for days. They’re all blond and perfect and …nothing like me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Carlie, are you there?” Lily asks, her voice tentative.
I swallow hard, switching back to Adam’s profile. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
But my gaze snags on Jillian’s comment under a photo of the two of us after a workout.
Way to take one for the team. She’s a walking disaster.
It’s vindictive—a clear jab meant to hurt.
What the fuck did I ever do to her?
Unless …
Werethey together?
Panic claws at my insides and I tap on her profile.
“Do you need me to come over?” Lily asks, breaking through my inner turmoil.
But I can’t take my eyes off of it—her post.
There, in stark clarity, Adam is standing at Jillian’s door, the timestamp glaringly clear.
The caption cuts deep:
When your ex shows up unannounced wanting to rekindle things after slumming it for weeks … How pathetic. #MovedOn
I stare at the screen, a potent mixture of hurt and confusion swirling inside me.
I mean, I know I hid the truth about our night at Nocté, but …this. This is some next-level shit.
Was everything he said, everything we shared, just a lie?
Do I even know him?
The questions pound in my head like a relentless drumbeat. I thought I knew Adam—thought there was something real between us. But now, all of a sudden, everything I thought about him is up in the air.
The room spins around me. “Lily, I ... I don’t understand. Why would he do this?”