MICHELA;
I turned. Jemy was walking toward me in a tight black dress that clung to her slim frame and stopped mid-thigh. Her long legs looked endless in black heels. For a second my heart skipped. She looked expensive and confident, the kind of woman who turned heads without trying, my heart jolted uncomfortably.
“Jemy!” I called out eagerly. I was both happy and insecure at the sight of her.
Behind her, near the cashier, a tall older man in a tailored suit stood with his back to us, handing over a black card while the attendant carefully packed several shopping bags.
My stomach tightened. I glanced around quickly, searching for Miles. What would he think when he saw her? Jemy was taller than me, smaller body, with that effortless model look. Would he find her prettier? Sexier? The old
