7. Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Lina
Seeing Cassie’s face drags every ugly memory back into the light. Months after everything came out, I’d fantasized about confronting her. And it had no connection to Cole.
No, I wanted to know how she slept at night.
How she smiled to my face while lying to me. How she sat across from me, and never once experienced any guilt for being a conniving slut.
There had been a time when I’d daydreamed about smashing that face of hers into something hard. A wall. A table. Now the dairy cooler three feet to her left.
Not for sleeping with Cole, but for helping him destroy a family and then acting like she’d done nothing wrong.
Makes me wonder how quickly security would escort me out of Sprouts if I let my fantasy become a reality and introduced her ugly face to the dairy fridge glass.
I force the thought away. I’m not going to jail because of this bitch.
“Cassie,” I mutter. Her smile widens.
“I thought that was you.” Of course she did.
I force myself to stay composed.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says.
The fucking audacity.
Cassie rests a hand on her stomach. Like a reflex. Or a weapon.
“We’re counting down the weeks now.”
Her hand glides back and forth over her stomach as her eyes sweep over me. Assessing. Comparing. Competing.
Most people wouldn’t notice. I do. Now that I know what kind of person she is. Cassie had always treated every woman like a rival.
“I hope we’ve all moved on from the past.”
I nearly laugh.
“I’m not interested in the past.”
Her smile tightens. “I’d really love for us to be friends.”
Friends. I’d rather wrestle a cactus.
“Is that right?” I say, searching the store for Val.
“Oh, I think it would be great for the family to see us be cordial,” she states, continuing to rub her belly.
The fake sweetness is becoming physically painful to endure.
“We’re so very happy.” She continues. “Cole can’t wait for her to get here.”
There it is. The reason for the conversation. Validation. A baby girl.
“Can you believe I’m going to be a mommy again?”
The words hit somewhere deep. But it’s unrelated to Cole.
Fuck Cole. Cassie can keep him. Marry him. Frame him. Whatever makes her happy.
What this is truly about, is that once upon a time I was pregnant too. Once upon a time, I was carrying our child. I was going to be a mommy.
I was so excited about becoming a mother. I didn’t care about what I was going through with Cole. I had hoped my bundle of joy would be what made everything I endured worth it.
Cole never really cared about me while I was pregnant. I was a nuisance then. So it’s hard to imagine Cole is excited about Cassie being pregnant when he’s known to become less attracted to the woman carrying his child.
Cassie may be lying, or maybe she’s telling the truth. Who really knows. It’s hard to believe her when Cole has been contacting me non-stop.
Texting. Calling. Leaving voicemails. Week after week. As though he can’t decide whether he wants to marry Cassie or keep haunting me. Hell maybe both.
“We already have the nursery finished,” she continues.
How efficient.
“The wedding is next month.”
How fortunate.
“We’ve never been happier,” she states, as she throws her hair behind her shoulders.
How exhausting.
I study her as every fiber of my being simmers with anger.
I’m not angry about her being pregnant with Coles baby, or marrying him. I’m angry because I know she’s fucking fake. Fake to her core.
She’s standing here trying to show off like she won the greatest prize. Won what? A life of misery?
The only reason she has the nerve to be within my space is that she knows I won’t touch her while she’s pregnant.
“I truly hope we can move on and be happy for each other,” she says. Her voice softens. “Maybe even be friends again.”
For a second, I just stare at her. Then something inside me cracks. The way ice cracks after a long winter. Quietly. Irreversibly.
A small smile touches my lips. The kind that should probably come with a warning label.
“Cassie.”
She brightens, hope flickering across her face as though she thinks we’re getting somewhere.
“Yes?”
“We will never be friends.”
The smile falls from her face. Enough for me to see the first hint of discomfort.
I don’t give her a chance to respond.
“And I think you’ve mistaken my civility for forgiveness.”
Her eyebrows pull together. Confusion. Then irritation.
“I—“
“Stop.”
The single word comes out calm. Significantly less agitated than I truly am. Years of hurt, humiliation and anger. All of it has settled into something still and cold.
“I don’t dislike you because you’re with Cole.”
Cassie stiffens.
I angle my head slightly. “I dislike you because you’re a snake.”
The insult lands. I watch it happen. The slight widening of her eyes. The tightening of her jaw. The immediate shift to defense.
Her hand slides over her stomach. Protective. Possessive. Victorious. Like she’s displaying proof she won. Like she’s expecting the sight of it to hurt me.
I almost laugh.
“You seem to think I’m jealous.”
Cassie’s chin lifts. Defiant.
“Aren’t you?” she asks.
The question comes out sharp, but underneath it I hear something else. Hope. She needs me to be jealous. Needs me to still want him. Because if I don’t, then what did she even win?
“God, no.” The laugh escapes me.
The answer comes effortlessly. Honestly.
Uncertainty flashes across her face.
“You can have him, sweetheart.”
The words settle between us heavy and final.
“You deserve each other.”
Her eyes narrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the two people who lied, cheated, and betrayed someone found each other.”
I shrug. “It means two snakes found the perfect mate.”
The muscles in her jaw jumps.
“I don’t want him.” I let my gaze drift downward.
To the ring on her finger. To the hand resting over her stomach. Then back to her eyes.
“And I definitely don’t want your life.”
The words hit their target. Color floods her cheeks. Her smug expression fractures, revealing the anger beneath.
Before she can respond, another voice cuts through the tension.
“There you are.”
I glance over. Val appears carrying enough sushi containers to feed a small army. She slows as she approaches. Looks at me, Cassie, then to me again.
“Oh.”
That single syllable somehow contains an astonishing amount of judgment.
“Hello, Val,” Cassie says sweetly. Though the sweetness is forced. Tight.
Val smiles. The kind of smile a shark might wear. “Cassie.”
A beat passes. “The mistress.”
I shut my eyes. Jesus Christ. Here we go.
Cassie’s smile freezes.
Meanwhile Val brightens like Christmas morning. “Oh, sorry.”
She taps her chin dramatically. “Former mistress.”
“Excuse me?” Cassie says. Her voice rises an entire octave.
Val pretends to think. “Did I get the title wrong?”
“Val.”
“What?” she asks innocently. “I’m just trying to be accurate.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is about to get ugly.
“Oh wait.” Val snaps her fingers.
“I remember now.” Val’s grin widens.
“It’s skank-ass hoe Cassie.”
Before she can launch into whatever comes next, she starts moving to the front of me. Like she’s preparing for battle.
I grab her arm and gently pull her back to my side. “No.”
Val huffs dramatically.
Cassie’s eyes flash. Humiliation. Rage. Embarrassment. All fighting for dominance.
Then she looks past Val and locks onto me. “You’re only angry because Cole chose me.”
And there it fucking is. I knew it. The thing she’s been waiting years to say. The story she’s probably repeated to herself every night. The fantasy she’s built her entire self-worth around. That she won. That she was chosen. That somehow I lost.
I stare at her for a moment. Then I convey my annoyance.
“Oh, please.” I sigh heavily. “I’m not doing this.”
I’m done. Done explaining. Done defending myself. Done giving her space in my life.
I turn and begin walking away.
Then she calls after me. Loud enough for shoppers to stop and watch.
“You hate me because I give him what he needs Lina! Something you could never do.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
Val mutters. “Oh…shit.”
I turn to face her with measured calm. Cassie stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, her chin tilted high. That smug little smile is still plastered across her face—the smile of someone absolutely certain she’s won.
Poor thing. Bless her little heart.
I meet her gaze and smile sweetly. “You’re probably right. I never gave that man blow jobs. I hear your head game is quite popular with all the boys.”
Cassie’s mouth falls open. Beside me, Val lets out a sharp snort before clasping a hand over her mouth.
Cassie points a trembling middle finger at me. “Fuck you!” she spits.
Her voice comes out louder than she intended, drawing a few curious glances from nearby shoppers.
I smile wider.
“Oh, and by the way,” I say casually, as if we’re discussing the weather, “tell your happy fiancé to stop contacting me and showing up at my house at one in the morning. It’s getting old.”
The confidence drains from her face so fast it’s almost impressive. Cassie freezes. Her eyes dart across my face, searching for a joke.
“That’s a fucking lie!” she snaps.
The panic underneath her anger is immediate.
I shrug lazily. “Texts. Calls. Voicemails.”
Reaching into my thigh pocket, I pull out my phone. Cassie’s eyes lock onto it.
I tap the screen and press play. God, I miss you. The sound of Cole’s voice fills the air around me.
For a second, nobody moves.
The color drains from Cassie’s face. Her lips part. Even the hand gripping her purse slackens.
Cassie blinks rapidly before forcing out a laugh. It’s weak. Desperate. Almost painful to listen to.
“It’s just cold feet,” she says, laughing again, but this time it sounds hollow.
“It’s normal.” The words tumble out too quickly, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.
I stare at her. Really stare at her. And all at once, my anger vanishes.
My sympathy goes out to her. Truly.
Because she believes she’s special. She thinks she’s the exception. She thinks a man who cheated with her somehow won’t cheat on her. The poor idiot genuinely believes she’s won a prize.
“You’re either delusional or just pathetic,” I say.
Her eyes widen. The words land precise because I don’t raise my voice.
“If you actually believe that, you definitely deserve one another.” I rub my forehead, unable to hide my disbelief.
“Narcissistic cheaters don’t change for anyone.” Cassie’s jaw tightens.
Her eyes begin to shine. Not quite tears. But close.
“Not even for little golden retrievers like you, desperate for attention.”
Her mouth drops open. The insult strikes its mark. Because somewhere deep down, she already knows. She knows what he is. She knows what he’s capable of. And she knows I’m right.
I give her a tight smile.
“Good luck with all that.”
I tuck my phone back into my pocket and turn away. This time, I don’t stop walking.
Behind me, I can hear Cassie sputtering, trying to find a comeback. She doesn’t.
Val practically jogs to catch up.
The second we round the corner and Cassie is out of sight, she grabs my arm.
“Well,” she whispers dramatically, “I was really hoping to see Cassie’s face smashed in by your fist the day we finally came across that hoe.”
I bark out a laugh despite myself.
“But I get it. She’s pregnant. She gets a pass.” Val pauses thoughtfully. “At least for now.”
“Oh, I thought about it.”
My pulse is still racing. Adrenaline buzzes beneath my skin. My hands are shaking just enough to annoy me.
“By the way,” Val says.
“What?” I ask.
She stops walking and I glance over.
Val is grinning so hard her cheeks look like they hurt. “That was fucking awesome.”
I laugh. A real laugh this time. The knot in my chest gives a little, loosening with every breath.