Chapter 3
THREE
I go home to change and then head to Jayden’s, my heart in my throat.
My hand is shaking as I unlock the door to his apartment.
I step inside, close the door behind me, and lean back against it, taking a deep breath.
Jayden’s cat, Hairball, hisses at me—something Jayden never believes when I tell him—then saunters over and brushes against my ankles, leaving coarse orange-and-white fur all over my black leggings—probably on purpose to spite me.
I pet him awkwardly, trying to stay on his good side.
The last thing I need is for him to pee on my stuff.
Again. I kick off my sneakers, trudge across the rug, and collapse face-first onto Jayden’s corduroy sofa.
“Lexi,” Jayden calls from another room. “Want to order that linguine again tonight?”
I mumble “No,” into the sofa. There’s no way I could stomach pasta knowing that my poor father’s alone, probably crying, while his wife flits around town with her new boy toy.
“What’d you say?” Jayden calls, his footsteps coming closer, until they grind to a halt. “Whoa. Okay. What happened?”
“The coffee date with my mom was as terrible as it could get,” I say into a pillow.
“Let’s talk about it then.” Jayden gently slips his hands beneath my shoulders and guides me into a sitting position.
I lay back against the couch, and Jayden sits down next to me. He adjusts his glasses and regards me with his warm brown gaze. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“My mom’s having an affair and she’s planning to leave my dad,” I blurt.
The words sound even heavier out loud, and my heart jumps into my throat for what seems like the millionth time today. I swallow hard.
“What?” Jayden springs to his feet, his calm demeanor vanishing instantly—which is strangely comforting, reassuring me that feeling like the world’s crumbling around me isn’t being overdramatic.
He runs both hands through his brown curls and his thick eyebrows knit together. “No way. She must be messing with you.”
“I wish.” I press my palm against my forehead and shake my head wearily. “Nope. She seems pretty serious about it. She even made some comments about sex with the new guy.”
Jayden wrinkles his nose and makes a face. “Your mom was telling you about her affair sex? Yikes.” He drops into the chair beside me with a sigh. “Honestly, between your family and mine—with their whole retire-in-Aruba-and-barely-call-their-son routine—it feels like everyone’s parents are a mess.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it. I didn’t expect this at all.”
“Your mom and dad . . .” Jayden starts, dragging his socked foot across the geometric print on the rug. “I used to think they had it figured out. Like, if anyone was going to last, it’d be them. But now? Guess they’re just another statistic.”
I sigh. I’d always felt proud of my family’s bond, lucky whenever childhood friends complained about splitting holidays or being pulled between houses. “Yeah. I wonder how my dad’s taking it.”
Jayden gives a sidelong glance. “Ugh. Yeah. Your dad’s a softie.
I bet he’s been in bed, miserable, since he found out.
Wait, does he even know yet? If he does, we should check in on him.
” Jayden’s right. My mom didn’t even make that part of this whole thing very clear—and I can’t believe I didn’t even ask. Ugh.
“Good idea,” I respond, running a hand along the back of my neck.
I try to think of something that might comfort my dad.
Should I promise Mom will come to her senses?
Or go with something cliché, like—It’s her loss, not yours, or maybe, There are plenty of other fish in the sea?
Preferably more faithful fish, the kind that mate for life.
It’s strange, though—comforting one parent by taking a jab at the other.
“Are you going to talk to your mom again after you’ve had a night to process this?”
I nod. “Or a few nights. It’s a lot. And there’s so much I need to find out.
Like who this guy is. And what the hell he wants from my mom.
Why he’s being a major homewrecker. The works.
I’m going to stop this. Mom’s obviously going through some kind of existential tailspin, and I have to knock some sense into her before she completely ruins her life. ”
“How are you going to do that?” Jayden asks, taking my hand and slipping his fingers between mine. I’m not in the mood to be touched right now—too focused on planning my sabotage mission—but I let him hold my hand for a moment before gently pulling it away.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up Facebook.
I type Mom’s name in the search bar. My chest tightens.
I tell myself I’m just curious, but deep down I know I’m worried about her.
Instead of her usual profile picture, standing side by side with Dad at Venice Beach last summer, it’s a picture of her in an incredibly low-cut shirt, and it’s giving more of a stripper vibe than her usual Martha Stewart.
I let out a low whistle. “Oh Lord, this is worse than I thought.”
Jayden leans over and lets out a little gasp. “Holy cleavage.”
“Exactly.” I click on the picture and scroll through the comments.
Besides the fire and heart emojis and a few “Stunning,” “Wow,” and “Are you sure you’re in your sixties?
” compliments, there’s a longer message that stands out.
I glance at the name. Bingo. Nicholas Wrenford.
Ugh. Even his name is irritating. He sounds like the type of guy who wears velvet robes with matching slippers and has monogrammed towels.
“Listen to this guy’s comment.” I jab my screen.
“Gorgeous as ever. Looking forward to later.”
Jayden shakes his head slowly. “Way to rub it in. I wonder if he even knows she’s married.”
How dare this Nicholas idiot write that? If my Dad didn’t think social media was a massive waste of time and had a Facebook account, he’d read this and be so pissed.
I click on Nicholas’s icon to view his cringy-looking profile picture properly.
He’s sitting on a motorcycle, staring into the camera with a smoldering gaze, his chin-length salt-and-pepper waves fanned out by the wind.
He has this look about him that says it all.
He’s cocky as hell. He may not be the monogrammed-towel type after all, but he does look like one of those guys who has a dating profile with a screen name like Mr. Smooth or Loverboy69. I can’t believe my mom fell for this.
“That’s him?” Jayden asks. “Yikes.”
“You’re telling me. Mom’s hooking up with someone who looks like a male gigolo. I wonder where she met him. An escort agency? The way she was acting like she was a whole different person today . . .? I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Jayden rubs my shoulder lightly. “Look, this is completely devastating. I feel like you need a nice glass of wine and some good food. Let’s order linguine from Nova and spring for garlic bread too. Extra cheese.”
I put my feet up on the ottoman and keep scrolling through the pictures, and it’s only when Jayden clears his throat that I realize I haven’t responded. “Sure,” I say, distracted.
Yes, life can get dull—monotonous, even—but throwing away the love of your life for a little excitement? What an awful move. Picture after picture, my conviction grows. I’m going to ruin this affair if it’s the last thing I do.
Jayden phones in our order, heads for the kitchen, and comes back with two very large glasses filled to the brim with white wine. As soon as he hands me one, I take a giant gulp.
He lightly clinks his glass against mine. “To us,” he says. “We’re going to make it much longer than your parents. And we’re not going to cheat on each other. Right?”
“Obviously. We’re not complete jerks like this guy.” I hold up my phone to show him another picture of Nicholas, a trying-too-hard-to-be-sexy grin on his face, posed with his thumbs in the belt loops of his faded jeans, looking like an aging member of a boy band.
“Your mom sure knows how to pick ’em,” Jayden says, then sets his glass down on the small table in front of us. “Listen, Lexi. Since we’re on the subject, I wanted to say . . . you know I want to propose. I’m just waiting until after Gia’s wedding.”
Smart. Gia would completely freak on him if he proposed during her engagement period.
It would go against the expectations outlined in her checklist in so many ways.
She considers her wedding the event of the decade and she doesn’t want anyone to steal her thunder.
But now Mom’s affair will be the talk of her own daughter’s wedding night, which is all the more reason to squash it immediately.
I am so not looking forward to telling Gia about this shit.
“You understand, right?” Jayden asks.
“I do,” I say lightly, looking up at him, even though I’ve told him hundreds of times that I’m in no rush to get married.
Jayden’s dark eyes brim over with kindness, which first attracted me to him, when we met at the first party I ever went to in college.
He looked at me—really looked at me, like he could see who I really was beneath all my quirks—and we’ve spent nearly every day together since.
“So, what do you want to do this weekend?” he asks. “Let’s go to Santa Monica like we were planning. You need to get your mind off this.”
I sigh. Even though Santa Monica isn’t quite the weekend escape I had in mind, it sounds like a dream right now. Honestly, a weekend of salty air and zero responsibility sounds like medicine.
“What’s up? Do you have stuff to do for Gia’s wedding?”
I smile wryly. “Well, of course. There’s a mandatory”—I make air quotes around the word—“bridesmaids meeting at her house tomorrow.” I’m teasing, but the truth is I’d do almost anything for Gia. Almost.
“Oh,” Jayden says, cracking a smile. “Well, there’s a new movie out that I’ve been looking forward to. Want to check it out after you put in some time at Gia’s? Drive-in, maybe?”
The word “sure” is on the tip of my tongue when I look back down at my phone and catch sight of something my mother just posted.
“Sorry. Can’t.” I point at my screen triumphantly.
“Mom would be an easy kidnapping target. She puts her whole life on Facebook. She’s going to Imperial with Nicholas tomorrow night . . . and I’m gonna be there too.”