by Vi Keeland
The dude laughed. “She was in denial, but I knew right away.”
The camera moved in close to their faces, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Then it zoomed down to her belly—her pregnant belly—and her hand, adorned with a wedding ring, rubbed her stomach. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”
The video then moved on to how he also took a chance and started his own business and needed impressive office space without the commitment and price tag. But I’d stopped listening.
I stood abruptly before they could even show the last video. “Good job. Run with it.”
I saw the confusion on my team’s faces as I walked toward the door. They looked at each other, silently asking what the hell was wrong with me. I just didn’t give a shit.
Later that night, my office phone rang. The caller ID said it was Logan. I didn’t feel like talking, but he’d called my cell earlier, so I figured I’d make sure everything was alright. Tossing my pen on the desk, I leaned back into my chair.
He started talking before I even said hello. “Remember the twins from Chi Omega? The gymnasts who had those juicy lips?”
I nodded. “Jenna and Justine. Jenna was a business major and Justine pre-med.”
“Whatever. I saw them in the elevator of my building today at work. Haven’t seen them in a few years.”
“How are they doing?”
“They’re fucking hotter than ever. That’s how they’re doing.”
“Are you calling to tell me you hooked up with them both? Because I really don’t want to hear the details.”
“No. I’m calling to tell you Jenna asked about you. She said she had the biggest crush on you back in college.”
“Oh yeah? That must’ve bruised your ego.”
“Not at all. I’ll take either one. I still can’t tell the difference anyway. We have plans with them Friday night.”
“We?”
“Yeah. The four of us.”
“No, thanks.”
“Dude…do you know how flexible they are?”
I still had no interest. I rubbed my eyes with one hand. “I’m not up for it.”
“They’ll get you up for it. Come on. What are you going to do? Spend the next year abstinent, only to drive out to Montauk with your hopes up on Memorial Day and have Valerie’s new, forty-year-old boyfriend answer the fucking door when you knock?”
My jaw flexed. “It’s Valentina.”
I should’ve never told him about what was going on with me, what went down this summer. But the day after I left him alone with the two women who’d tried to pick us up at the bar, he showed up at my office to ask what the hell was going on. And like a pussy, I unloaded my tale of woe on him.
But the thing was, I knew Logan—he could be relentless, and believe it or not, he was concerned about me. He just thought getting me laid was the way to make me feel better. I had no doubt that if I said no, he’d be standing in my office at some point tomorrow. I wouldn’t even put it past him to show up with the twins at my place Friday night.
“Fine.”
“Excellent.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You won’t regret it, buddy. I’m telling you, that Janna had a twinkle in her eye when she said your name.”
“It’s Jenna.”
“Whatever. Meet us at seven at Boggs for dinner.”
***
Dinner wasn’t terrible, mostly because it felt like four old friends from college catching up, rather than a double date. Though, that was despite Logan’s constant flirting with Justine. Actually, he’d been flirting with Justine at the bar while we waited for our table. But when we were seated for dinner, he started flirting with Jenna, too. The bonehead still couldn’t tell them apart—even though I’d pointed out that one was wearing red and the other black.
After we finished eating, Logan suggested we go over to the bar across the street. I’d ditched him last time, so I went along with it, even though I would have rather gone home. At one point he and Justine went to dance, leaving Jenna and me alone to talk.
“So…are you seeing anyone?” She sipped her vodka and cranberry through a skinny red straw.
I tried to hide my flinch. “No.”
“Me either. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t gone out on a date in months.” She smiled and tilted her head. “What’s your excuse?”
I didn’t want to be rude, but I also didn’t want to explain anything. Luckily, the bartender came by and saved me from answering.
“Can I get you two another round?”
I looked to Jenna.
“Sure,” she said. “I’d love another.”
“Just for her, please. I’m good.”
The bartender walked away.
“You’re not joining me for another drink?” She smiled.
“I have a lot of work to do in the morning.”
“Oh. Okay.” She reached for her purse. “Can you excuse me for just a minute? I need to run to the ladies’ room.”
“Of course.” I stood and waited for her to get out of her seat.
While she was in the ladies’ room, I took out my phone and started to scroll through email. Nothing caught my attention, so I opened up Instagram.
The first photo that popped up was a picture on Eve’s account. We’d followed each other over the summer. Fuck. I shouldn’t have taken out my phone. It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. Eve and her husband Tom were smiling wide for the camera on one side of a table, and sitting across from them, looking just as happy, was Val and some douchebag. How did I know the guy was a douchebag? Simple. He was sitting next to my girl. The picture was like a bad car accident. I knew it was stupid to look, but I couldn’t stop staring. After way too long, I managed to drop my eyes down to read the caption.
Shenanigans are overdue.
Logically, I knew I had zero right to get pissed. She’s supposed to move on, go on dates, experience life—that’s the fucking reason we weren’t together. But did it have to be so easy for her?
I looked down at her face again. Over the summer, I’d learned her smiles—the nervous one, the fake one she put on when she was trying to be polite, and the real one she’d given me so often. And that there, that was the real damn thing. I wanted to hurl my phone across the room in the worst way.
But because I’m a glutton for punishment, I instead clicked from Instagram over to Match.com. I only had to type in V and her name auto populated, probably because I’d searched it so many times. Her profile popped up on my screen, and I got the wind knocked out of me. Val’s profile status had been changed sometime over the past twenty-four hours—from Inactive to Active.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I’d left it up to fate, and it looked like fate had fucked me.
Jenna returned from the bathroom while I was still staring at my phone.
“Did you miss me?” She batted her eyelashes, and her newly glossed lips shimmered.
I should get out of here with her. If Val could move on so easily, so could I.
But…God, I was such a pussy.
I stood and dug into my pocket for cash. Tossing enough on the bar to cover three times what we drank, I looked at Jenna and held up my phone. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I need to run.”
“Oh no. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. No. Yeah. I just…need to call it a night. I’m really sorry. It was nice seeing you, Jenna.”
“Do you…want my number?”
I didn’t want to insult her more than I already had by not calling. “I was honest earlier when I said I wasn’t seeing anyone. But I did meet someone this summer, and I’m just not over her yet.”
Jenna smiled sadly. “Lucky girl.” She opened her purse and dug something out. Handing me a business card, she said, “If you want help getting over her, give me a call. Not many men would have admitted what you just did, and I really appreciate that. I like you. It doesn’t need to be more than it is. Call if you just wa
nt some company one night.”
I leaned in and kissed her cheek, taking the card from her hand. “Thanks, Jenna. Take care of yourself.”
Chapter 29
* * *
Valentina
“So…any interesting men at work?” Eve poured wine into her glass, but I held my hand over mine, stopping her from refilling.
“You asked me that a week ago when we went to lunch.”
“I know. But you were sulking still. I was hoping you’d notice some once you started smiling again. And why don’t you want more wine?”
I shrugged. “The smile is still fake. I’m getting good at it. And I don’t want more wine because I just feel worse after I have too much to drink.”
Tonight was movie night. Eve and I hadn’t had our regular monthly get-together in a while. First I’d been in Montauk all summer, and then when I was finally back home, I’d had a ton going on the first few weeks of work. Between open school night, preparing lesson plans, and settling back at home, the only thing I seemed to find time to do was pout.
It had been my turn to pick the movie, so I’d rented some sappy, sad drama about a dog dying.
“My mother used to have a saying. Pain makes us strong. Tears make us brave. A broken heart makes us wise. But wine makes us forget all that crap.”
I’d attempted to shake off the heavy feeling of melancholy, but I just couldn’t get past it, no matter how hard I tried.
“When Ryan and I split up, I felt lost. I wasn’t sure how to be just me when we’d been a couple for so long. But thinking back, I never really longed for Ryan as a man. I longed for the comfort of who we were. It was almost like quitting smoking—you know it’s not good for you…but yet when you stop, you feel like you’re missing a big part of your life. It’s just hard to get over the habit. It’s different with Ford. I miss him…not a routine or coupledom. I miss sitting around talking at 2 a.m. I miss the way he looked at me—like I was something special, the way he cupped my cheeks before he kissed me. The way he made me laugh. When we were together, everything just felt super easy and natural, and he made me feel…I don’t know…safe. Even though I’d been cheated on and hurt, I felt like I could trust him. You know?”
The hopeful spark in Eve’s eyes fizzled out. “You’re really in love with him.”
I nodded. “I don’t even know when it happened. One minute I was minding my own business and getting by each day, and the next I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning. I thought it was safe to have a good time with him because I never expected it to be more than just that. You know? I just didn’t expect it to be him.”
“I get it. I really do. I didn’t expect the love of my life to be a man in his fifties who wears a Mister Rogers sweater and goes to bed at nine o’clock. But that’s how it happens—with the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time. When we looked forward, we couldn’t see anything. But all of a sudden we look back and shake our heads—how did we miss seeing this is what would happen when we looked at him the first time, because suddenly it’s as clear as day.”
I sighed. “I need to move on.”
“Are you sure that’s what you need, Val? Maybe you should talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason you can’t move on. Sometimes you need to follow your gut and fight for what feels right. He might be feeling the same way.”
“No. It was only supposed to be a summer fling. I’m being silly.”
“You’re not being silly. You should have time to grieve the loss of someone you care so much about. Just don’t let it be two years, like after the divorce. Okay?”
I nodded. “Anyway, to get back to your original question, there is a nice-looking guy at work. He’s in my department. Italian is his first language, so he has a sexy accent.”
Eve sipped her wine. “Go on. Tell me more.”
I shrugged. “He’s been a teacher for fifteen years, but just started this year because he moved to New Jersey from Connecticut. He’s a widower at only forty.”
“Wow. How did his wife die?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t said. He just mentioned that his wife died three years ago, and he moved back to New York to be closer to some family. He has a teenage daughter.”
“How’s his ass?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t notice.”
“What’s he look like?”
“I don’t know. Italian—dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair. He’s nice looking.”
“Nice looking. So is my dad. He’s not hot?”
“What can I tell you? It’s hard to compare to the last man I saw naked.”
“Oh, God. Sweetheart, you can’t compare anything to Ford. He’s gorgeous and young. If you let that be your standard, you’ll die an old maid. Comparison is the thief of joy. Don’t do it.”
“I know. I really do. It’s just going to take some time.” I got up and refilled the chip bowl, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Eve. “Mark called me last week.”
“Oh yeah? I liked him. He seemed like a nice guy.”
“He is. We actually talked on the phone for over an hour. He said he’d been going back and forth for two weeks on whether to call or not. But he wanted to check in and see how I liked teaching. It was really good to hear from him. He had some pretty funny stories to share about his first few weeks. He’s teaching in a tough neighborhood in Brooklyn.”
“And…”
“He asked how things were going with Ford and me. I said it had ended. He suggested we get together to catch up soon. But I think he knows things between us are only ever going to be platonic.”
“Why? You should go out with him. Get back out there.”
“Oh my God. The last time you pushed me to go out with someone, I got my heart broken.”
“Yes, but you got yourself back out there. It had been twenty years since you spent time with a man. Actually, you’d never spent time with a man because back then they were just boys. This was just a summer. It will be easier to get back out there this time than it was after a two-decade marriage.”
I wasn’t so sure Eve was right about that. “I’ll think about it.”
She smiled. “That’s my girl.”
***
“Hey, babe.”
Ugh. Does he ever listen to anything I say? I should’ve gone with my first instinct when I’d seen my ex-husband’s name flash on my cell.
“If we’re going to call each other nicknames, I’m going to use the one I favored after you moved out.”
He ignored my comment. “Listen, about the summer place.”
Great. I get to talk to you and be reminded about my summer with Ford all in one conversation. “What about it?”
“The piling fix will cost about thirty grand. But that’s just a Band-Aid. We need all the stilts replaced in the next five to seven years to repair it correctly, and that’s almost twice the price.”
Wonderful. And I’m responsible for half of that, according to our divorce settlement. “I don’t have that kind of money. You know I just went back to work.”
“Yeah. I don’t have it either. That’s why I think we should dump the place.”
“What? No!”
“The market out there is hot right now. We could get almost five times what we paid for it fifteen years ago.”
“Yes, but then what? Neither of us would be able to afford a replacement.”
“You might be able to pick up a small place up toward the lighthouse that isn’t on the beach. I don’t really even like it out there anymore, so I wouldn’t rebuy.”
“I love our house. We can’t sell it.”
“Well, if we don’t do something, it will fall into the water within the next few years. That’ll solve our problem.”
God, he really was always a jerk. “We do need to do something—pay for the repair.”
“So you’re gonna come up with sixty grand, then?”
“Sixty? Thirty would be my half.”
“Told you I don’t have the thirty either.”
<
br /> “But our divorce agreement requires us to each pay half.”
“Can’t pay what I don’t have.”
Ryan made a good salary. Although, he was paying me alimony and paying college tuition and still had to foot the bill for his own house. I wanted to argue with him and say that was his problem, but it was actually our problem, and it became my problem if I wanted to keep the summer place.
“What if we take a mortgage on the Montauk house to pay for the repair?”
“I can’t afford another payment, Val.”
“I’ll pay it. I have a job now. You only have two more years of alimony. When that’s done, you can help me pay it off.”
“See if you can even get a mortgage, and we’ll talk about it. Otherwise, I don’t think we have a choice but to sell it.”
Great. I’m sure the bank will love my one month of employment history.
Chapter 30
* * *
Ford
“Ford? Is that you?”
Shit.
I’d started passing by Eve’s restaurant pretty much every day, but it was the first time in four weeks that I’d run into her. I’d made it a few steps past the door when she opened it and called after me.
“Oh, hey. I was just passing by. I have an appointment a few blocks away or I would have stopped in to say hi.” Yeah, right.
Eve gave me a suspect smile, but I wasn’t sure which part of my bullshit she wasn’t buying. She thumbed toward the restaurant behind her. “I was setting the table, getting ready for dinner reservations, when I saw you walk by.”
I nodded and shoved my hands into my pockets. I really was a shit liar. “How’s it going?”
She tilted her head. “Good. Busy. You?”
“Good. Good.” I had to ask. It would have been rude not to. “How’s Valentina doing?”
She seemed to think about the answer before speaking. “She’s doing amazing. Loves her job. Met an Italian teacher. Getting back into the swing of things.”
“An Italian teacher?” Apparently, I needed it spelled out for me.