Chapter 3
Anna
I reach for the kettle and pour myself a cup of coffee.
Everything about this morning feels like tension stretched too tight.
I’ve been awake since five. Who am I kidding?
I didn’t sleep at all. I just tossed and turned all night, haunted by everything I’ve spent the last three years trying to bury—his name, his face, his voice, every damn memory that refuses to fade. And now, I have to face him.
My fingers curl around the mug, and I breathe in the scent of the coffee. It’s not that I’m nervous about seeing my ex-husband. No, it’s not that. It’s that I’d rather not see him at all. Just the idea of standing across from him, even for a moment, exhausts me.
Sipping my coffee, I lean against the kitchen counter and stare out the window. And despite everything going on in my head, I take a moment to admire the morning’s view of the trees lining the boulevard, their leaves still damp from the night’s mist as the river shimmers faintly through the haze.
After my divorce, I moved into this three-bedroom apartment, leaving behind the house Landon and I once shared.
I just couldn’t bear to stay in the place that held all our memories.
We’d both invested in it, yes, but I didn’t want anything to do with it.
So I sold it and gave Landon his share as a parting gift.
I let out a breath and close my eyes for a moment, hoping for even a flicker of calm, yet my mind keeps tumbling through restless circles.
I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to react when I see him, let alone interview him.
What am I even supposed to say? Hello, Mr. Hayes.
Care to explain why you left without so much as a goodbye?
God, I just hope I don’t end up hurling curses at him… or hot coffee. Honestly, both feel well-deserved, but I know I can’t. I have to stay professional and remember that I’m a top journalist now, not his ex-wife still pining for him.
But hell, when has staying calm ever been easy when it comes to that jerk?
Even now, just thinking about the fact that he specifically requested me for the interview, for God knows what reason, is enough to get under my skin. And, of course, he wants the meeting at his house.
I bet the only reason he chose his house is because he thinks the private setting will throw me off. Typical Landon. After all, torturing me has always been his specialty, and I’d bet every penny I have that he’s aiming to do it again.
I grip my mug a little tighter. But what he doesn’t realize is that it doesn’t matter where this interview takes place—his house, his office, hell, even the goddamn church where we once said I do.
None of it changes the fact that I’m no longer the woman who is affected by him anymore.
Over the years, I’ve mastered the art of pretending he doesn’t matter.
And just like that, my mind begins to chant the mantra: He is my past. That’s all he is.
“Careful, you’re holding the mug too tight. You might break it.”
I blink and turn, catching sight of Mick as he strolls into the kitchen.
He’s shirtless, as usual. I smile and take a moment to look at him.
Handsome features, broad shoulders, lean frame, a constellation of tiny scars from God knows what, and a tattoo peeking out from beneath his collarbone.
He does total justice to his job as a model.
A towel hangs loosely around his neck, and his dark hair is still damp from the shower, the water droplets slowly trailing down his chest. Honestly, I almost feel bad for the entire female population because they don’t stand a chance with him.
“Morning to you too.”
“Morning,” he replies, making a beeline for the fridge.
I smile at him. “She didn’t let you sleep?”
“Not even for a minute,” he grumbles, pulling out the orange juice. He takes a swig straight from the carton and sets it back in the fridge before turning to me with a raised eyebrow.
“So… all set to meet your husband today?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Ex-husband.”
“Ah, my bad. Ex-husband,” he repeats, dragging out the word like it has too many syllables.
I roll my eyes and take another sip. “Will you stop being so dramatic? I seriously don’t have the energy for this today.”
“Right, because you’re meeting your ex-husband, and you need all your energy for that,” he says with a grin and drops onto the stool across from me.
“You’re insane.”
“No, babe, I’m concerned. Because you’re playing it way too cool for someone who is about to meet face-to-face with the man who practically ghosted her.”
“I wasn’t ghosted.” I set my mug down on the counter a little harder than necessary.
“Right. He just left you with the divorce papers and never bothered to talk it through first. That’s totally ghosting, sweetheart,” he points out, grabbing a banana from the fruit basket and peeling it before devouring it in two bites.
“Mick, can we seriously not do this right now?” I snap, every nerve in me fraying at the edges.
He immediately gives me a guilty look. “Alright. I won’t say another word.”
I rub a hand over my face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re allowed to be angry.”
I meet his eyes. “I’m not angry.”
He gives me a look that says, ‘Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.’
“It’s just… a bit too much for me right now,” I add quietly.
He nods. “I get it. And I know you hate talking about him. But seriously, are you okay?”
I pause, unsure how to answer. My first instinct is to lie, to say I’m fine, maybe even force a smile like it doesn’t sting anymore.
To act like it’s just another interview, like it’s no big deal.
But the words just don’t come. Because I can lie to the world, even to myself, but never to Mick.
He’s not just my roommate, he’s my best friend.
Mick is the first real friend I made after the divorce.
We met at a coffee shop, both of us not wanting to be alone.
I had just signed the papers, and he had just come out of a relationship.
That day, we poured our hearts out like strangers who somehow already connected with each other.
I told him about my marriage… how I gave it my all, only to be left like a villain in my own story.
And he told me about his ex who cheated on him.
Maybe that’s why our friendship began so naturally, because we both understood the kind of pain that comes from someone you once loved and trusted.
In fact, when we both admitted we needed a fresh start, he was the one who suggested we rent an apartment together.
We talked about it half-seriously, half-lost in the moment.
Honestly, I thought we’d laugh it off the next day.
But when he showed up on my doorstep with a list of apartments and the names of brokers he’d already spoken to…
that’s when I realized it made sense. I didn’t want to come home to an empty, lonely house.
I didn’t need space. What I needed was a friend. Someone who would just be there for me.
I huff. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’d better make damn sure he regrets ever letting you walk away.”
“That’s the plan,” I say, lifting my chin.
That makes him grin. “That’s my girl.”
I snort, rolling my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“I know you’re going to hate me for saying this,” he says, putting on a mock-serious expression, “but your ex-husband is a total smoke show. I don’t know how you’re going to get through the interview without losing your panties.”
I throw a dish towel at him, and he ducks, laughing.
“You seriously need help,” I groan, but my heart and mind, the traitors they are, obviously agree with him.
Even if I don’t want to admit it, I’ve seen enough of Landon’s photos floating around the internet over the years.
Magazine covers. The goddamn paparazzi shots.
The man hasn’t aged a day. If anything, he’s only gotten hotter.
“You’d better dress to kill. Make it impossible for him to focus on anything except the thought of undressing you.”
I cover my face with my hands. “God, please shut up.”
He just chuckles and holds his hands up. “Okay, okay, I’m done. But just so you know, I’m proud of you for doing this… for not backing out.”
I offer a small, grateful smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach my eyes but still says more than words ever could. “I wanted to do this.”
“And that’s what makes you braver than him.”
I glance down at my mug, the coffee now cold. “He’s the one who set up this interview… and he specifically requested me.”
Mick lets out a curse and adds, “The audacity.”
I look up at him. “I don’t even know what he’s trying to play at.”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, he won’t win.
” Mick walks over and squeezes my shoulder in comfort.
“Because you walking into that house with your head held high, showing him he’s nothing more than a ghost from your past…
that’s your biggest win. And he will always be the man who was too much of a coward to hold on to the best thing he ever had. ”
There’s a beat before I whisper, “I wonder if he’d agree with that.”
“Oh, sweetheart, he will the moment he sees you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
His expression softens, a hint of worry visible in his eyes. “Will you tell him?”
I know exactly what he’s asking, and I sure as hell have thought about it. But even the thought of Landon uncovering my secret is enough to make my nerves unravel.
“I don’t wish to share it with him. He doesn’t deserve to know,” I reply, looking him in the eye.
“Anna, I think—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“I have to call my team,” I say quickly, changing the topic. I don’t want him to convince me to tell Landon. Right or wrong, that secret stays with me.
He searches my face and nods, then steps back with the grin back on his face. “Go get him, killer.”
I nod and smile back at him as he disappears down the hallway, humming an obnoxiously cheerful tune. I wait for his door to close, then set my mug on the counter before pulling my phone from my back pocket and dialing my assistant.
“Marcy?” I say as soon as she picks up.
“Anna! Everything’s ready. We triple-checked the mics, the lighting setup’s been done since yesterday, and we’ll be at his place thirty minutes early.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you there,” I reply before hanging up.
My hands go to my stomach, and I can feel the knots tighten there. I start repeating the mantra in my head like a broken record. I’m going to see him. I’m going to prove that I’m over him. I can handle this.
Breathing in and out, I try to steady myself. God, I just need to get this interview over with and end this torment. With that thought in mind, I head to my room to change, desperate to get through this as quickly as I can.