She is shaking her head rapidly, looking pleased with this news.

Wait a minute…

“Dee?” I question.

“Hmm,” she responds, lost in thought.

“Are you pregnant?” I hope she is. I know that she had the worst parents in the world, but she and Beck would make amazing parents.

“What? Oh, no. Well, I don’t think so at least.”

Well, damn.

“Do you want to be?” I sigh.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately. Between you, Izzy being pregnant again, Melissa with the twins all tiny and cute, it’s just been on my mind more than normal. I worried when they got older and weren’t all adorable babies anymore that they would be gross, but Cohen and Nate are two cool kids, so I think I’m open to it now.”

“That’s good, Dee. If you want to talk about it, just let me know. Maybe sit down with Beck and see where he stands with it? Maybe he wants to wait a little while. I mean, don’t you want to get married first?”

Some people might be bothered by the fact that I’m not married and pregnant, but then again, they would probably drop dead if they knew I was knocked up with my fiancé’s brother’s baby. To each their own—normal is boring anyways.

“Of course I do. We’re setting a date soon. Now that things have settled down, I think it’s time for me to make an honest man out of him.”

We laugh together and enjoy the rest of the car ride, talking about how long we think the latest Kardashian marriage will last and the newest purses we saw on our favorite site. When she pulls up to the front of my building, we make plans for dinner next week. I wave her off and walk into the building.

Going to wave to Joe, I frown when I notice that he isn’t standing in his normal spot. Damn, this place looks weird without him standing there smiling at me. Oh well. He must have gotten called away.

I was halfway across the lobby when I remembered that I left my laptop in my car yesterday when I went to work at Starbucks. I laugh to myself when I recall Asher picking on me because I went into a coffee shop to work when I can’t even drink it. Hey, what can I say? I love the smell and it’s one of the best places to people-watch.

I bypass the button to my floor and press the one that will take me under the building to where our parking garage is located. Digging in my bag as I walk towards my car does nothing to help me find my keys. I grab my phone and stick it in my back pocket before starting my search up again.

Feeling the cold metal, I close my hands around them and go to pull them out. When I lift my head, I freeze at what I see.

My car is demolished. A total mess of what once was perfect. There isn’t an inch of my car that isn’t covered in scratches, dings, and dents—and red…paint?

My mind is telling me that there’s no way I’m seeing this right. Maybe I’m on some sick version of Punk’d.

Dead center of what used to be my hood is five perfectly sprayed letters.

WHORE

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I try to push down the feeling of helplessness as I turn and run as best as I can back to the elevator car. I jam my finger over and over on the ‘door close’ button. I pray that whoever did that to my car isn’t about to slam their hand between the doors, cutting off my escape.

When the doors finally close, I rub my hands over Zac’s baby bump and will myself to calm down. I can’t be getting this upset. I’m sure whoever did this is long gone. I bet they even got the wrong car. It was probably meant to be Wendy Westlake’s car and they got mine instead. Our cars are almost identical. She has the door across from our apartment and I swear it’s open later than Taco Bell. Everyone knows they stay open late.

My body is still shaking and I can’t seem to calm down. When the car dings on my floor, I make my way to our door with wooden legs. I just need to get inside and call Asher. He’ll know what to do.

My hands are shaking so badly that I drop my keys twice. Bending over is a blast when you’ve got a large beach ball in your front. I feel my jeans get tight across my ass, and I groan when I hear my phone start making noises like the touchscreen has been activated. I swear I butt-dial more people that way.

I throw the door open and rush in, pressing myself against the door and letting out the breath I was holding. Now that I’m safe in my apartment, I allow my body to really start feeling the fear of seeing my car smashed and beaten. Vandalized with so much brutal force.

I go to grab my cell from my pocket but stop dead when I see her.

A scream escapes my lips and I feel my heart drop. Ice-cold terror is picking up speed inside my body, making me feel faint and powerless.