The Ex by Freida McFadden(15)

“Thirty-six,” he says.

“Oh my God, you’re so old,” she teases him.

“Considering more than half my patients are geriatric, I usually don’t think I am.” He takes a sip from his water. “But right now… on a date with a twenty-six-year-old… yeah, feeling a little old. When I was in high school and taking the SATs, you were a kindergartener eating paste.”

“Uh, I never ate paste.”

“You think I can’t recognize a paste-eater when I see one?”

She laughs. She likes the smile that plays on his lips when he teases her. He’s very sexy. And so what if he had a serious girlfriend right before her? Everyone’s got a past.





Chapter 7: The Ex


I don’t entirely know how I got here.

One minute I was staring at the tiny avatar of Joel on the screen of my phone, and the next minute, I’m riding the D train into Manhattan. I didn’t have a plan in my head—not really. Mostly, I want to reassure myself. I want to take a peek into the restaurant and find Joel there with his buddies, and know he hasn’t found someone new.

But what’s the point of that? Joel doesn’t want me back. He made that quite clear when he asked me to move out of our former apartment if I couldn’t cough up the rent. He’s willing to try to be friends, but that’s the best I can hope for.

Then again, it’s been nearly six months, and from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t been dating. That says something, doesn’t it?

When I get out of the subway, the sun has fallen in the sky and I throw on the sweater I had wrapped around my shoulders. Joel was the sort of gentleman who would always give up his jacket for me when I was cold. He would see me shivering and laugh. Don’t you ever bring a jacket? Then he’d wrap his own jacket around me, and it would feel warm and big and smell like his aftershave.

Sometimes I forgot my jacket on purpose so he’d give me his.

If I ever saw him do that for another woman, I don’t know what I would do. It would break me. That’s why we can’t be friends.

When I get to the restaurant, my heart is pounding, although I’m not sure if it’s from the brisk walk or from what I’m scared I might see. I approach the restaurant, doing my best to be inconspicuous. That’s not hard for me. I am not someone who attracts much attention.

I peer through the glass windows of the restaurant, ready to duck out of sight if I’m spotted. Please let him be out with Pete or Jim. I squint at the tables and…

I don’t see him. He’s not in there.

I whip out my phone. I open the WhereAmI app, and see the avatar of Joel has left the restaurant. It’s hovering about a block away.

I should go home. Maybe grab a bite at a restaurant then take the train back to Bensonhurst. Or maybe I’ll send Lydia a text and see if she’s free—I haven’t heard from her in ages. That’s what I should do.

Except instead I start walking toward Joel’s avatar.

I see them when I get to the corner. Joel isn’t out with the boys. He’s out with a woman. If I wanted to reassure myself, I have done the exact opposite. And…

She’s beautiful.

God, she’s beautiful. I can tell even from nearly a block away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off miles of leg, she has flawless olive skin, and her dark hair is loose and sexy going down her back. And she’s young. So young. I don’t want to think about it.

There’s something about her that reminds me of myself, only prettier and younger. She’s the two point oh version of me. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse about the whole thing.

I wonder how long they’ve been seeing each other. I squint at her face, and it doesn’t look familiar. I haven’t seen her featured on his Facebook page or other social media. It’s got to be a new relationship. Maybe even a first date.

I wonder if they’ve kissed yet. If she’s been to his apartment. If they’ve slept together.

This is the point where I know I should turn around. I have gotten an answer to my question, and even though it’s not the answer I had wanted, it’s an answer. Yet I can’t make my feet move. I can’t look away.

Especially when he leans in toward her until his lips are against hers.

I can’t describe how it feels to see the man you love—the man you were certain you would marry and spend the rest of your life with—kissing another woman. It’s a sick, horrible feeling, like the entire world is falling out from under me. And the kiss… it lasts forever.

I remember the first time Joel kissed me. It was the night we met. We were at a Christmas party thrown by a mutual friend, and he showed up in his scrubs (no surprise there) and was passed out on the sofa sitting up when I arrived. When I sat down on the couch, it jostled him awake. I apologized for waking him, and as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a smile spread across his face. I’m glad you did, he said.

We spent the next two hours talking and ignoring everyone else at the party. He entertained me with stories from his med school rotations, and I confessed to him my dream of opening my own shop someday. We had several drinks in us when he got shakily back on his feet, then offered me his hand to help me up. Can I walk you home?

I had been hoping for a kiss at my front door, but instead, we ran into a piece of mistletoe stuck above the doorway. I can’t remember which one of us pointed it out, but as soon as I saw it, I knew what he was going to do. When he leaned in to kiss me, I knew this was the man I would spend the rest of my life with.