Chapter 1 #3
I roll my eyes—I know damn well he was never a Boy Scout. I take a sip of my wine, which quickly turns into a gulp. Desperate to get away from him, I turn to leave but stop at the sight of Ellie and Cat wrapped up in each other’s arms across the yard, laughing with another guest.
Hard to believe Alex could be the lesser of two evils, but here we are.
“Play your cards right, maybe they’ll name the baby after you,” Alex remarks.
My gaze snaps to his.
“What?” he asks. “Am I supposed to pretend not to know? She isn’t exactly subtle.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You kind of like it.” His words are slow. Enunciated. Confident.
I decide that doesn’t warrant a response and take another gulp. Before I know it, my wine is finished.
What could one more hurt, really?
I reach for the bottle, but Alex grabs my wrist. I pull it away.
“Just looking out for you,” he murmurs, closer than he was a second ago.
Too close.
“Not your job,” I say and take a step back.
He lets out a resigned sigh. “I know you’ve never liked me—”
“I really don’t.”
“Jesus.” He laughs. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Oh, you don’t want me to do that,” I drawl.
“Try me.”
“Let’s just say, if I were given the choice between sitting through another dinner with you or having water poured over my rag-covered face, I’d choose waterboarding every single time.”
I start to second-guess myself—did I take that too far?—when his eyes darken. “You always did know just what to say to get me going.”
With a scowl, I remind him, “Have you forgotten you’re married?”
“Would that I could.” He laughs, but there’s no humor to it. “Don’t worry about Ingrid, Josephina. She’s being more than taken care of at her ‘book club.’ ”
He says the words with such derision, leaving no question to the fact that Ingrid isn’t at a book club. I’m about to ask what he means by that when I remember who I’m talking to.
I shake my head, hating that Alex can pull me in so easily when I’ve spent years running from the memory of him.
It’s funny how one night can completely change your perception of who you are. One mistake, and you don’t even recognize yourself anymore.
I was never that type of woman—until I was.
Everyone has secrets, I sometimes tell myself to feel better. But that’s the nature of secrets—I have no clue how bad everyone else’s are, so I’ll never know how mine stack up.
I turn to leave, but he stops me. I pull my arm from his grasp a second time.
“Don’t touch me,” I mutter, low enough not to make a scene.
“Watching you hold a torch for Ellie is getting sad. Let it go already,” he says, and I feel my face heat—who the hell is he to judge me?
This time when I walk away, he doesn’t stop me. I let myself back into the house, walk through it, and go out the front door. I’m halfway across the lawn when Ellie catches up to me.
“Were you about to leave without saying goodbye?”
“I figured no one would notice.” I shrug, unable to meet his gaze.
“I noticed.” He wraps me in a hug and adds, “I’m really glad you came tonight. Promise you’ll come to the next one?”
I shouldn’t lie to him. He would never lie to me.
The thought comes unbidden: Cat will be showing by the next one. Maybe I’m a masochist, because the next words spill out of my mouth without thought.
“You’re going to be a really great dad, Ellie.”
The shock on his face is almost comical, but it quickly morphs into a smile. “I should’ve realized there’s no hiding anything from you.”
He asks me to keep it a secret. Tells me to get home safe. Hugs me one last time.
I allow myself to cry only after I’ve driven away and parked on a side street. In the silence of my car, I think that I’ve never felt so alone.
Once I pull myself together, I get on the 134, driving from Ellie’s home in Toluca Lake to my own in Eagle Rock. It’s sad to think that we’re separated by only a twenty-minute drive and yet I don’t see him more than a few times a year.
My phone rings over my car’s speakers, cutting into my misery and alerting me to the fact that my volume is turned up way too damn high. I jolt, then glance at the dash.
For an irrational second, my mind flashes to Alex, of all people, and I half expect to see his name on my screen. But of course, that’s not possible.
I still have his number blocked.
Incoming call: Mom
I hit Ignore. I’ll call her back in the morning.
Another sound from my cell phone, this one just a chime. Another glance at the dash.
One new voicemail
I reach over, turn my speaker volume down, and hit Play.
“Joey, honey, it’s Mom. Just calling to say good night, and I miss you. Call me back when you get the chance. It’s been two weeks—it would be nice to hear your voice.”
Has it been two weeks since we spoke? Really?
“I know you’re busy, but—you haven’t gotten back to us about Thanksgiving. Are you coming? Sierra booked her ticket, and I know it would mean a lot to her—”
I reach over to stop the voicemail, but red brake lights catch my attention through the windshield. I look up just in time to slam on my brakes before I ram straight into the truck in front of me.
I brace for impact.