Anna’s skin felt itchy. Her eyes darted toward the exit as she shifted from one foot to the other. She needed to leave—now.
“Naomi, I think we should—”
“Oh my God, isn't she beautiful?” Naomi interrupted, leaning in. “Her skin is perfect.”
Anna didn’t answer. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot, and a wave of heat rushed to her face.
“Naomi, I can’t be in here anymore,” Anna said, her voice rising above the chatter of the crowd.
Naomi finally turned, her brow furrowed. “Why? What’s the matter?”
Anna’s throat felt dry. She couldn't just say it: I’m at a party for my boyfriend’s ex-wife. Instead, she forced her lips into a grin, but her eyes remained cold and panicked. “I just don’t feel well,” she whispered.
Naomi opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden voice cut through the air.
