Shawn walked into his house that Friday evening to find his kitchen table set with placemats and silverware laid if perfect position. Stemmed wine glasses were set perfectly at the 2 o' clock position of the plate. He couldn't remember the last time he even ate at the kitchen table.

Zeiler was in the kitchen, struggling to tie some yarn around what looked like biscuit dough. Bowls and pots and measuring cups covered the counters. She didn't even look up from what she was doing.

"Why are you accomplishing by doing that?" Shawn asked, seeing immediately that whatever she was attempting, it was not worth the struggle.

She wadded the dough up into a ball and chucked it at him, hitting him in the shoulder. Shawn knew it was probably another crafting cooking recipe that would inevitably fail. He appreciated her grit.

"Don't make a mess, this isn't your house," he said win a smile, picking the dough off the floor throwing it back at her.

"When Tyler and I get married it will be," she said, giving Shawn a playful smile and wiggling her left hand in the air. The ring glinted in the light above.

"The house is in my name, he literally pays me rent."

"Details."

Shawn laughed. She was always messing with him, she had her entire life.

Zeiler didn't skip a beat and grabbed a new wad of dough and started tying it up with string. "So is Megan coming?"

"No."

She smirked. "Good, because I didn't set a plate for her."

Shawn could feel the bitterness in her voice and he rose his brows. "Easy."

She turned towards him and rose her hands, her shoulders hunched. "You know you two are unhealthy!"

"Says the girl marrying a guy so they can have rhyming names!"

Zeiler threw her head back and let out an obnoxious laugh. "Honestly, only reason. I barely love him."

"I'm just messing with you."

"Well I'm not. I know that Megan has some hidden hurts that she needs to work through, but regardless, it's not your job to fix her."

Shawn stared at her, realizing she didn't know. "You do know we broke up Wednesday?"

Zeiler whipped her head back towards Shawn and her face fell in absolute shock. She waited to see if Shawn was kidding, and when she saw he wasn't, her hand was over her mouth and she was stepping forward to put her arms around his neck. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?" she said breathlessly.

Shawn laughed and hugged her back. "Yes, I'm more than fine."

"How's she?"

"Angry."

"Why did you not tell me sooner?"

Shawn patted her on the back. "Maybe if you actually went to your own family's Thanksgiving, you'd have found out."

"We're engaged. I have obligations to his family now too!" She shook her head, still shocked from news. "Wow Shawny, how'd the family take it?"

Shawn remembered his dad slapping a hand on his shoulder and saying something along the lines of Atta boy.

"Pretty well."

The front door opened with a bang, and Tyler walked in with Scottie, both of them holding grocery bags.

"Shawn broke up with Megan and he didn't tell us!" Zeiler shouted across the room.

Tyler rose his brows at Shawn as he walked by to give the bags to Zeiler. Scottie walked over to Shawn and put an arm around him.

"I already knew," Scottie said, looking at Shawn. "Megan told me last night."

He instantly jumped back with his fists raised in defense as Shawn turned to strike him.

Zeiler took a deep breath as Scottie and Shawn took playful swings at each other before wrestling each other to the ground. Tyler picked up a handful of chips and leaned against the door frame to watch them.

"Just trying to have a nice Friendsgiving but I forgot I'm friends with a bunch of children." Zeiler muttered.

Tyler turned, his eyes wide in mock outrage. "Take it back," he said in a low voice, coming towards her. She screamed in petition as he put his arms around her and kissed the side of her face.

"Gross," Scottie yelled from the ground as Shawn pinned him down. "Stop that."

"Hold him still and make him watch," Zeiler said to Shawn, her arms around Tyler's waist as she pressed her lips to his.

Scottie cried out in protest under Shawn's weight.

"Scott, you have a new girlfriend every month, you shouldn't be offended by real love." Zeiler said. "Speaking of which, what girl did you invite to this?"

Scottie smiled from the ground. "None."

Tyler let go of Zeiler and started applauding for him. Shawn got off him and helped him to his feet before giving him a slap on the back.

"Single during a holiday? Scottie, you're growing up," Shawn said, clasping hands with him. "Proud of you."

"Well, when I heard you were single again..." Scottie replied, winking at Shawn.

Shawn winked back. "Megan never stood a chance against you."

Zeiler looked at Tyler with exhausted eyes. She would never get used to their excessive goofiness with each other. The two were closer than brothers, and at times it was overwhelming.

"What?" Tyler said, looking back at Zeiler. "She really didn't."

***

Other than Amy's weirdness on Thanksgiving, the day went very well. Jean and Anthony seemed to forget about the fight they had the night before, and things were getting back to normal. They joked about the different things that happened with his family the entire way back, and the commute seemed much shorter the way back than the way there.

She started to fall asleep against the passenger window, but opened her eyes to watch Anthony singing to the radio. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, moving his head back and forth to the beat. Gosh, he was handsome. She swore she would never get tired of looking at him. They had their issues they needed to work through, but what couple didn't?

The longer she watched him, the more she realized how much she wanted to stay in this seat forever. She wanted to spend her life watching him sing along to the radio, one day as his wife. She imagined him quieting their children in the backseat. Driving them to school. Life seemed like it could never be that bad because she had him.

That Saturday, Jean went into work an evening shift. She told Anthony she would be exhausted afterwards, but would stop by the next day on her day off.

The shop was surprisingly dead for a holiday weekend, but Terry was there so Jean kept busy. She cleaned every nook and corner of the coffee bar, made sure the coffee stands were fully stocked, and kept moving. Terry was making the schedule in the back and finally came back up front to see Jean.

"It's not possible to get the store any cleaner," Terry said. "Why don't you take off early and go spend some time with that fiancé of yours?"

Jean smiled. "He's not my fiancé." As much as she liked to keep her hours as she was usually in a financial crunch, Anthony and her seemed to be in a really good place since the fight, and she thought it might be good to try to talk some more about the situation.

"Yet," said Terry, winking at Jean. "I see how that boy looks at you. He loves you."

Jean tried to fight the smile as she finished wiping down the espresso machine. Terry took the rag from her hand and shooed her away. After Terry's comment, Jean wanted nothing more than to go see him.

He only lived a few minutes from her work, and Jean hoped he would be home. She saw his red Chevy truck in the parking lot and felt relieved when she pulled in.

She felt like busting in and scaring him, but his door was locked. She knocked, but he didn't answer. He must be sleeping. She knocked again, harder.

His truck was in the parking lot, but he never usually locked his door during the day. Did he walk somewhere?

She called his phone and she heard it ringing from inside his apartment. She lowered her phone in confusion, wondering if he forgot it. Then she heard the footsteps inside.

"Anthony?" she called against the door. "It's me, are you okay?"

He finally whipped the door open, startling her.

"Jean?" He asked. "I thought you were at work?"

"Terry cut me early," Jean said. "Surprise. Were you sleeping?"

Anthony ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I wasn't expecting you. It startled me. I didn't know who was knocking so aggressively. How'd you get in without being buzzed?"

"Someone let me in," she said, gazing up into his blue eyes. He leaned up against the doorway and his hair was a mess. He had some serious bedhead, but she swore he got more attractive every time she saw him. She put her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. When she pulled back, her eye caught something right behind his feet.

"Whose shoes are those?" Jean asked, eyeing a pair of brown flats a few feet past his entrance.

Anthony looked behind him and saw the flats. He froze for a second before turning back to Jean.

"Amy's."

"Amy's here?" Jean asked. They were just together. We're they working through whatever was upsetting her on Thanksgiving? "Where is she?"

Anthony tapped his hand nervously against the door frame. "She had to step out for a bit."

Jean looked at the shoes. "Without her shoes?"

When she brought her eyes back to meet Anthony's, she saw tears welling in his eyes. Her heart started racing, confused by his reaction. He didn't say a word. What was going on? Something serious must be going on with her to get Anthony to react this way.

"Jean, I'm so sorry," Anthony whispered.

When he uttered those words, it hit her like a brick wall. Those weren't Amy's shoes. They were shoes that belonged to a girl that Anthony would lie to Jean's face about.

"Oh my god," she whispered, backing up across the hallway until her back hit the opposite wall. She felt her knees buckle and she lowered herself to sit on her heels, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

Anthony turned around, his finger interlocked behind his head as he looked towards the ceiling. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why wasn't he telling her it was okay and it wasn't what she thought?

The longer he remained quiet, the more it confirmed what she didn't want it to be. Her vision went black around the edges and all the things she had pictured for the future started to crumble in her mind. He ruined it. He ruined her dreams.

And if her shoes were in his apartment, then that meant...

"She's here right now?" Jean said, barely audible. If she was there, it meant she was hiding. If she was hiding, it meant that she had already known about Jean.

Jean's shock quickly turned into rage at the realization. She straightened to her feet and moved towards the apartment.

"Where is she?" Jean yelled loudly, hoping for the girl to hear. Jean roughly pushed past Anthony and only made it halfway across the family room when he raced in front of her to block her path.

"Jean, stop," he pleaded, tears still in his eyes.

"Why is she hiding?" Jean yelled, almost hysterical. "Where is she?"

She tried to push past him and go down the hallway, but he put his arms around her waist, making her gasp in surprise. She screamed in protest as he half dragged, half carried her across the room and back into the hallway. She twisted and writhed, hitting him and trying to break free from his grasp. He swung the door closed behind him with one arm before dropping her in the hall.

"Let me in!" Jean sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she tried to get to the door. Anthony easily blocked her, and when she realized she couldn't get past him, she smacked him hard in the face and continued to slap his arms and chest until he caught both of her wrists.

He held her wrists tight and moved her back to the opposite wall. "Stop!" he yelled in desperation through tears and gritted teeth. She yanked her wrists free and turned away, burying her face in her arms against the wall. She couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her chest. She felt so weak, and she fell to the floor, covering her face in her hands. This couldn't be real. It was too much. She couldn't believe she hit him, but she also couldn't believe he just ruined her life.

She didn't know what to do. Why was Anthony protecting this girl? Why was he forcing Jean out instead of making the other girl leave? Did he think Jean was going to hurt her? She had never even slapped someone until 30 seconds ago, and in her rage she was afraid of what she might do.

Jean uncovered her face, and rolled over so she was sitting facing Anthony. He was crouched in front of his door, his forehead resting on his arm against the frame. The fact that he was upset angered her even more. Why was he crying when he was the one who did this?

"Who is she?" Jean asked, trying as hard as possible to keep her voice steady.

"Jean..."

She had to swallow hard so her voice wouldn't break. "I swear to God Anthony, if you don't tell me her name I will wait here until she leaves and punch her—"

"It's Ametta."

All the air escaped her lungs and she pressed her face to her raised knees. She was on the verge of hysteria. She knew she was going to wake the entire apartment building, but she didn't care.

Ametta, the girl who turned him down before he asked out Jean. The girl she teased him about and that he swore he was over. She was here, right now, and the name made everything a million times worse.

Less than a week ago he teased her with the idea of marriage. Now he was with someone else.

"How long?" Jean managed to force out of her.

"Jean, I swear we've never kissed or anything like that-"

"Yeah? What have you been doing."

"We're just talking."

Jean tried to fit the pieces together in her head. He lied about her shoes. He wasn't expecting her. Ametta and him had obviously planned this. This wasn't a one time thing. This had been going on for a while.

"How long have you been talking for?"

"I don't know, Jean..."

"Show me your phone then."

Anthony instinctually moved his hand to his pocket, and Jean watched as the tears started to glisten in his eyes again. If it was truly innocent, why was he crying so much? He had already been lying to her,
what made him think she would believe him now?

"I swear, we've only been talking."

"Do you like her?"

Anthony opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Jean felt her heart sink and she felt sick to her stomach. This wasn't real.

She started to back away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. "I guess that's it then," she said weakly, spinning on her heels and slowly making her way out the door.

She waited for him to say something. To stop her. To say anything. She waited for his footsteps to come crashing down the hall and to stop her in her tracks.

But he didn't, and she didn't let herself look back.
___________________________________

Gosh, Anthony sucks. I also hate that every time I type Anthony, the 🐜 ant emoji pops up in predictive text.

DRAMA. What'd you think? Did you see it coming? Do we hate Zeiler's name? Honestly, I love your guy's feedback. Let me know your thoughts and if you have any works you want me to check out! God bless! ❤️