"Don't you think you know her?" Jemma's voice was sharp and caustic, cutting through the café's quiet hum.
My coffee was halfway to my lips when I froze. It was enough to make me uneasy to see her across the table, looking well put together and sporting that annoying grin. Weeks had passed since I last saw Jemma, and I had hoped that would continue.
"Jemma," I remarked calmly as I put down the cup. "What are you looking for?"
Without waiting for an invitation, she slid into the chair across from me and tapped her glossy nails repeatedly on the table. Her tone was deceptively informal as she said, "I want to talk about Cath."
Anger flared up inside my chest. "You are not allowed to discuss her."
She leaned forward and met my blue eyes, saying, "Oh, but I do." "Because I believe Mike, y
