The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(21)

But I won’t.

Something tells me it would scare her off, and I can’t let that happen. So instead, I slow the kiss, pressing mine to hers one last time before pressing my forehead to hers.

“Good night, Cassie. I’ll see you Saturday. Text your assistant.” I press my lips to her forehead, and then I turn my back, and I leave, not looking over my shoulder to see her standing there, watching me go.





Eleven





-Cassie-





It’s days like these I wish I had girlfriends.

I did once, when I was in college. Ones I set up, ones who moved on with men and created new friend groups with other happily coupled people. But the thing they don’t tell you about growing up is that there is always the threat of growing apart.

And somehow, through it all, we grew apart.

Because the other thing they don’t tell you is that when your friends get married and have kids, they have less time. And when they have less time, what time they do have they spend with other couples, other new parents. Soon, you’re the lone single friend who has nothing in common with them, and slowly, slowly, you drift apart until you’re just another name on their Christmas card list.

So when I roll out of bed on Wednesday to get ready for work, my mind still drowsy with drink and a late-night, I have no one to make the call all girls need to make when a man shakes their world.

And that is the only way to explain what on earth happened last night.

Lucas Dawson shook up my perfectly curated world in a way I never saw coming.

The four rules I created when I built my business dating men to vet them for other women were to protect myself.

If I set those rules, follow the structure, don’t deviate from them, I can’t get hurt.

If I keep myself detached, never fall for the bullshit of a man, I’ll always be able to see past the hearts and flowers and deceit. Never get so caught up in the beauty of falling in love that I miss all the warning signs.

After twenty years together, my dad left my mother and completely wrecked her. They married when she was twenty-three and started dating when she was twenty. He was all she knew her entire life. She accepted his long business trips, the forgetting of birthdays and anniversaries. She took on raising me more or less alone, handling midnight puke fests and my sneaking out and boys breaking my heart with a grin, knowing we were a picture-perfect family, the one she always daydreamed of having as a young girl.

As a young girl, I daydreamed of the same, of staying home to raise the kids and being the stay-at-home mom while my husband goes out and works hard and comes home to a smiling wife and a hot meal. That was my plan. Hell, in my senior yearbook, I wrote that I would get my MRS. My main purpose for going to school was to find a man, fall in love, and get married.

But when that picture-perfect world came crashing down, my mom did too. Even now, ten years later, every moment of her life is a reflection of the letdown, of the deceit. It’s a rare moment when I visit her and she doesn’t break down crying.

Still, the truth of the matter is that when I look at my childhood, I see them. Glimpses of red flags, tiny moments where an outsider would have questioned. And living it, it seemed normal because it’s all I knew. But they stand out to me now that maybe things weren’t as beautiful and perfect as I always thought. I see things like my dad extending his trip, missing Christmases, my mom crying late at night in her room alone. My mom working out religiously and telling me that “in order to keep a man, you have to always look your best.” It’s like she knew all along, whether she realized it or not. Like she always suspected, and like my dad didn’t try very hard to hide his deceit.

After the divorce and before I started The Ex Files, I tried dating. Tried bringing boys home, but it always ended in her questioning things, bringing up tiny flaws and possible lies until I had to walk away from the relationship. That’s how I learned to spot the red flags before I even brought them home to her.

It’s also why I stopped dating. Why I don’t even bother anymore. It’s almost like getting a job at your favorite restaurant. After a few months, the meals that used to be your guilty pleasure make your stomach turn. So I have no use for dating. I’ve lost all ability to get the butterflies and nervous giggles when a boy texts you because I’ve seen the worst of them all.

Except now I’m staring at a text from Lucas Dawson.

He shouldn’t have my phone number since we exclusively work with clients through email and our business line. Except I vaguely remember giving my number to Jordan last night, and if I can remember the hierarchy correctly, Jordan was the girlfriend to Tanner, who was the brother to Ben, who was the boss of Chris, the childhood friend of Luke. I think.

So now I’m staring at a simple text sent at six-thirty am with just seven words, but also an unlimited number of ways to overthink and read into.

Luke: Had a good time last night, sweetheart.

What the actual fuck is going on.

Instead of replying, I toss the phone into my bag, ignoring both the message and the beyond late hour as I quickly scrub my teeth and throw my hair up into what I hope is a chic-looking bun and not just a rat’s nest on top of my head. Instead of attempting any kind of makeup and knowing I have a full arsenal at the office, I step into my comfy and warm but ugly boots after changing into a pair of leggings and a tee shirt and start for the door.