The Ex

by Freida McFadden

  “Why?” He doesn’t say it in a mean way. More like he’s genuinely curious. He has a right to be a jerk to me after how I’ve acted, but he isn’t. “You didn’t seem to have too much interest in seeing me again.”

  I shift between my feet. “Are… are you busy now?”

  “Actually…” He glances down at his watch. “I’ve got a date in an hour.”

  “Oh.” I lower my eyes. This shouldn’t surprise me. Dean is a great guy, and there was no reason for me to believe he would wait around for me. It would have been more surprising if he did. “I see.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, well. Why not, right?”

  “Yes, of course.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s… wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “Congratulations?” He cracks a half-smile. “You’re congratulating me on getting a date? Am I really that ugly?”

  “No.” My cheeks color. “Not at all. Just… um, the opposite.”

  That half-smile remains on his lips. “I see…”

  “Look,” I mumble. I’m having trouble looking Dean in the eyes, but I’ve got to say my piece, even if I humiliate myself. “I know I screwed up before. I really… I like you.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t know what to say to that, Anna. I told you from the start that I don’t play games. When I told you I’d call the next day, I did. And when you didn’t return my calls, well…” He shakes his head. “I’m not playing that game. Not anymore.”

  “It wasn’t a game.” I squeeze my fists together. “I just… I told you from the start, this breakup with Joel… it was hard on me. I mean, he and I were together for over ten years. When it ended, I just…” I chance a look up at Dean’s dark eyes. I see the tiniest bit of sympathy there, so I plow forward. “But I’m here because… I’m over it. After tonight, it’s behind me. I promise that.”

  “You can’t make that kind of promise.”

  “But I can,” I insist. “I don’t want to play games either. I can’t stop thinking about you and… if there’s any chance you still feel the same way…”

  Dean is shaking his head at me. I have really screwed this up. He’s a great guy and I blew it. He’s got a date with another girl—one who doesn’t have two tons of baggage. I don’t even know why I’m bothering.

  He fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He punches some buttons on the screen.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  That crooked smile returns. “I’m canceling my date.”

  For the first time since I walked in here, my heart soars. “You… you are?”

  “Yeah.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “There was no point if I was just going to spend the whole date thinking about kissing you.”

  Now it’s my turn to smile. “You would?”

  “Well…” He takes a step closer to me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since our night out. So.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls,” I say. “I was acting like an idiot. You’re the first guy I’ve liked since Joel, and I guess I just… I panicked. I went crazy.”

  “Yeah, I did some dumb things after I got dumped.” It’s the first time Dean admitted he was the dumpee in his breakup. “I mean, I left town. Moved halfway across the country. That’s pretty crazy.”

  I can’t even begin to admit to Dean some of the things I’ve done. Better he thinks he won the crazy competition. “Yeah, that’s pretty crazy. But I’m glad you did.”

  “You know what?” His smile widens until my heart starts to flutter. “So am I.”

  And then he kisses me.

  Chapter 52: The Ex

  The same night I was in Francesca’s apartment, she died in the bathtub.

  Nobody knows I was the last person to see her alive. Even Joel, who was the one who found her. He didn’t know about that, and he didn’t know Francesca was pregnant. He only found out after the autopsy. He might have been able to deal with feeling like he caused her suicide, but the baby pushed him over the edge. It took him several months before he could go back to work again, to the job he loved.

  But he did eventually go back. He got better. His friends talked to him about getting back in the dating market, but he resisted for a long time. Over a year. Every time someone would mention a girl he might like, he’d mumble, “I can’t.” He was even more of a mess than I was when he broke up with me.

  But then he met Cassie.

  I liked Cassie the first time I saw her. She was everything Francesca wasn’t—sweet, earnest, and pretty in a fresh-faced sort of way. I could see how much Joel liked her. He was able to finally move on.

  As for me, Dean and I went out on our second date the night I met him at work, and he kissed me again before he said goodnight. It was another incredible kiss. This time when he called me the next day, I picked up on the first ring—no games. Within a few weeks, we were practically living together. I’d never felt this way about anyone before, even Joel. In fact, I was grateful to Joel for ending things between us so I could experience this kind of love. After we were together for less than a year, I became the wife of Dr. Constantine Pourakis, called Con by his friends and Dean by the people he’s closest to.

  We decided to try for a baby right away, and we were blessed to get pregnant quickly. Dean was over the moon excited when I told him the news—I tried not to think of the fact that Francesca never got to share her news. And Joel never got to hear it.

  When our baby was born, it was Dean’s idea to name him Andrew. After my grandmother Angela, who died a month before he was born. I am so sad Nonna never got to meet her namesake. But we keep a picture of her on our bookcase, so Andrew can know his great-grandmother. We hold him by the bookshelf, pointing out his relatives to him so he knows where he came from.

  I’ve become friends with Joel again in the last year. I’ve been rooting for him and Cassie. I want him to be as deliriously in love as I am with Dean. I want that so much.

  Cassie doesn’t seem like the paranoid type—if she believes someone is trying to kill her, she’s probably right.

  And I know who that person is.

  Chapter 53: The Ex

  Last night, Dean and I went to Lydia and Pete’s apartment for dinner. It was our first night out since Andrew was born, and Dean was both excited and adorably worried. He spent about an hour installing nanny cams around the apartment.

  Well, the nanny cams may have been partially my idea.

  “There’s a blind spot right here,” I told Dean as I stood in the corner between the kitchen and the living room, inspecting the multiple views of the apartment popping up on my phone.

  “Right, I’m on it.” He whipped out yet another camera from the box we purchased a few weeks ago. He concealed the camera partially behind a picture frame.

  The cameras were well-hidden. But I was concerned that the babysitter might discover one of them, just based on the sheer number of them.

  “Better?” he asked, once the new camera was positioned.

  I continued walking around, scrolling through the multiple views on my phone. I stopped near the doorway. “Another blind spot.”

  Dean frowned at me. “We’re out of cameras. And do we really need one near the front door?”

  “Of course we do,” I said. “What about Donna?”

  Donna is our neighbor who lives down the hall. She’s in her forties, married but without children, and every time she sees me go out with Andrew in his stroller, she looks as though she might scoop him up and take off with him.

  “Uh…” A crease formed between my husband’s eyebrows. That dimple was nowhere to be seen. “I honestly don’t think we need to worry about Donna. And we’ve got all the other cameras.”

  It did take a little convincing and some shifting of cameras, but I finally agreed the visualization of the apartment was good enough. If it were just me, I would have stayed home until we had more cameras. But Dean really wanted to get out of the house. “We haven’t been out t
ogether just the two of us since the baby came,” he said as he pulled me close to him. “I miss it.”

  “I miss it too,” I said as I tilted my head up for him to kiss me. He grinned and leaned in immediately, pulling me close to him. Dean and I still have the best kisses. It hasn’t changed at all in the last two years. Of all the choices I’ve made in my life, he’s the best one.

  Unfortunately, as soon as we got to Lydia and Pete’s apartment, it was obvious this wasn’t going to be the fun, relaxing evening with friends we’d hoped it would be. I had thought Lydia and Pete might be doing better, but clearly not. I could tell they’d been recently fighting by the red that rimmed Lydia’s eyes when she accepted the bottle of white wine I handed to her.

  “Bonterra Vineyards,” Lydia said, crinkling up her nose instead of thanking me.

  “I love Bonterra Vineyards,” Dean said, because even though he’s a cardiologist, he’s not the slightest bit pretentious. “Nothing wrong with it.”

  “Yes…” Lydia held it out as if it was contaminated and she needed to stay a safe distance away. She would serve it to us, but never drink it herself.

  Pete came out then, a beer in his right hand. His tie looked like it had once been cinched tight, but now was hanging loose around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot and I sensed it wasn’t his first drink of the evening. The last time we saw the two of them, Dean murmured to me that he was worried about how much Pete had been drinking lately. He was worried about how Pete was performing in the ER and worried about their daughter, Violet.

  “Con! Anna!” Pete held out his arms, as if to wrap us both in an embrace. “Lydia, you’re being rude, making them both stand in the doorway. Invite them in!”

  Lydia shot her husband a look, then marched off to the kitchen with our wine. Pete rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind her. She’s in a mood. You know.”

  Pete’s comment prompted Dean to put his arm around my shoulders and pull me tighter to him. That will never be us, his eyes told me.

  Dean eventually ended up in the living room, watching some sort of sports game with Pete. I wanted to stay close to my husband, but I felt obligated to check on Lydia in the kitchen. It was the polite thing to do, given she was cooking dinner for all of us. I may not be a professional chef like Francesca, but I’m very handy in the kitchen.

  But when I got into the kitchen, Lydia was just standing there. Staring at the stove. A blank expression on her face. The smell of something burning assaulted my nostrils.

  “Lydia.” I reached past her to shut off the stove. I didn’t know what she was making in there, but it was too late to save it. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. “I’ve barely slept in a week.”

  “Oh…”

  She looked away from me. “The doctor gave me some pills but they do nothing.”

  “Do…” I bit my lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t want to burden you,” Lydia murmured. “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed with the baby.”

  “Lydia…” I shut down the stovetop as well before the fire alarm went off. “I’m sure it’s not that bad…”

  “Marriage counseling isn’t working,” Lydia practically spat at me. “We’ve been going for three months. What a joke. It’s forty-five minutes of Peter telling the therapist what a witch I am. And the therapist always takes his side.” She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to look at me. “It’s all my fault. Did you know that?”

  I winced and handed her a tissue from a box on the counter. “I’m sorry, Lydia.”

  “And Violet…” Lydia dabbed at her right eye with the tissue. “I’ll probably only see her on weekends. Peter will make up some argument about how I work too much on the weekdays so he should get her. I can’t imagine not being able to come home to my baby…”

  This time, she couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely from her eyes, soaking the tissue in her hand. I imagined someone taking Andrew from me. I’ve only known him for months, but I can’t even fathom it. They’d have to kill me first. I was about to tell Lydia I understood, but then she blurted out:

  “I wish I could talk to Francesca about this.”

  Ouch.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but Francesca… she was like my sister. It’s all Joel’s fault that she’s gone. I’ll never forgive him for that.”

  I couldn’t blame her for wishing Francesca was there to talk to. I still remember how isolated I felt when my relationship with Joel fell apart. It was horrible.

  “The most important decision a woman makes in her life is who she chooses for her husband.” Lydia dabbed at her right eye with the tissue. “I know that sounds sexist but it’s true. Your husband is your partner in everything you do. A bad husband can wreck your career. He can affect your parenting. Peter was the wrong choice for me… he’s made me into… into…”

  I frowned at her. “Lydia?”

  She dropped the tissue on the counter, her eyes suddenly wild. “I took it out on the wrong person. I… was so goddamn angry at Joel for what he did to her. I couldn’t stand to see him moving on, especially when my life had gone to shit. And that girl. Cassie. God, she’s so young.”

  “Yes,” I murmured.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have. I was so angry though. You have no idea the things I’ve done, Anna.”

  And then she told me everything.

  Chapter 54: The New Girl

  Where is Anna?

  Cassie looks down at her phone, hoping for a call from Anna or Joel or somebody. Well, somebody aside from the person who’s been hanging up on her, which is apparently not Francesca.

  Maybe she should call the police. Someone breaking into her apartment and writing “slut” on the wall feels like something she should call the police about. Then again, like Anna pointed out, they couldn’t do anything when it happened at the bookstore. And the last thing she wants is the cops nosing around her apartment.

  Maybe she should call a locksmith.

  Her doorbell finally rings and she nearly faints with relief. Anna’s here—thank God. Cassie hurries over to the door and throws it open. Except it’s not Anna.

  It’s Lydia.

  “Lydia?” Cassie gasps. How did she even get inside without buzzing up? But then again, her neighbors let anyone inside who looks halfway respectable. Lydia looks more than respectable in her expensive trench coat with her shiny blond hair. “What are you doing here?”

  Lydia looks her up and down with her ice-blue eyes. Her eyes are nearly the same color as Joel’s but have none of their warmth. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  “Talk?” Cassie clears her throat. “Listen, Lydia, this isn’t a good time.”

  “Nonsense.” Lydia pushes past her, then pulls a bottle of wine with the label Bonterra Vineyards from her purse. “I brought wine.”

  In Lydia’s world, bringing wine is worth entrance anywhere, apparently.

  Without being invited or removing her coat, Lydia strides into her kitchen and starts going through the cupboards. “Where do you keep the wine glasses?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  Lydia’s mouth falls open. “You don’t have any? How is such a thing possible?”

  “I have cups…”

  Cassie isn’t in the mood for the way Lydia sifts through her glasses and inspects each one. She finally selects a satisfactory glass and places it on the counter. She picks up the bottle and fiddles with the cork.

  “Do you need a bottle opener?”

  Lydia shakes her head. “No, I opened it last night.”

  Sure enough, the cork comes loose easily. She tips the bottle over and fills the glass with dark red liquid. She slides it over to Cassie. “Here. You’ll like this.”

  Cassie is reluctant at first, but then she realizes how much she could use a drink. This day has been nothing short of horrible.

  “Thanks,” she says as she takes a sip. And she det
ects notes of cherry and rosemary and…

  No, it just tastes like grape juice with a zing.

  “Let’s have a seat,” Lydia says as she scans the room, looking for someplace to park herself. She scrunches her nose up at the sofa, but then deems the dining table acceptable. They sit opposite each other, Lydia settles gingerly into her seat as if she fears it might break.

  “Aren’t you going to have wine?” Cassie asks.

  “Oh, no.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “I don’t like that kind. Anna and Constantine brought it over last night. But you should drink up.”

  So she does. She has another healthy sip, and she feels slightly better about the day. A nice, warm feeling comes over her. And she’s almost glad Lydia is here. Maybe Lydia isn’t her favorite person, but she doesn’t have to worry about an intruder in her house if she’s got company.

  “What do you want to talk about?” Cassie finally says.

  “Francesca.”

  It’s hard for Cassie to keep from spitting out her wine. That was the last thing she expected Lydia to say. Back when Cassie thought Lydia and Francesca were still buddy-buddy, it might have made sense. But why now? Why when Francesca is dead?

  “Oh,” Cassie murmurs.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Lydia holds up what had looked like a perfectly manicured hand, although Cassie now notices several of the fingernails have been chewed on. “You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend’s ex. But I’d like you to hear me out.”

  “Okay…”

  “The thing is…” Lydia is staring hard at her now, which prompts Cassie to take another sip of wine. “I don’t think Joel ever told you about my relationship with Francesca. Did he?”

  Cassie frowns. “No…”

  “I didn’t think so.” She crosses her legs and leans forward in her chair. “You see, I was the one who introduced Joel to Francesca.”

  Cassie’s mouth falls open. “I… I had no idea.”