I unfolded it as my eyes scanned the paper. With each word, I felt the blood drain from my face. I stumbled back from the door and fell into a chair, my heart slamming against my chest.
“What’s on the itinerary for today?” Ana asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Wasn’t Connie at the damn door with it?”
“No,” I said. “She wasn’t.”
“Then who the hell was it? Spit it out so I can get back to sleep.”
“I-I-I don’t know, Ana. I don’t know who it was.”
It must’ve been the panic that laced my voice because Ana flew up fr
om the bed. She teetered over to where I was sitting and crouched down in front of me. She slipped the piece of paper from between my fingers as tears crested my eyes.
Someone knew.
Someone knew about me and Rhett.
“What the fuck is this?” Ana asked. “You slept with Rhett?”
“I-I, um.”
“Chanel. Take deep breaths,” Ana said. “Who gave you this?”
“It was slid underneath the door. I don’t know who wrote it,” I said.
“Have you slept with Rhett?” she asked.
I looked up into her eyes, and Ana sighed.
“I guess I should’ve known it would happen with them being our neighbors. But girl. Two days in? You couldn’t even make the poor bastard wait?” she asked.
“Ana, you don’t understand. Rhett and I were keeping this discreet,” I said.
“Apparently not. Someone’s written you some creepy ass note about how you’ve slept with Rhett and how you shouldn’t do that because he … is that word supposed to be cutted?”
“Cheated,” I said. “The note says I shouldn't be sleeping with Rhett because he cheated on me. What the fuck?”
“Girl. Okay. Look, someone’s being an asshole, but we need to talk about this. How many times have you and Rhett slept together?” she asked.
I leaned back in my chair and raked my hands over my face.
“It’s out in the open now. I’m gonna order us some room service, and we’re gonna talk,” Ana said.
“Three times,” I said.
“What?” Ana asked. “Three times and I’m just now finding out about it?”
“The last time it even got hinted at, you blew up at me. The last thing I wanted to deal with was this situation right here, right now,” I said.
“What? You mean a conversation with your best friend about how you fucking deserve better?” she asked.
“Yes, among other things,” I said.
“I mean, is it good? He still got it and shit?” she asked.