The Ex by Freida McFadden(30)

When he returns with the coffee pot, he leans over me to pour the piping hot black liquid in my cup. I’ll have trouble sleeping if I drink this, but maybe that’s a good thing if there’s a chance I’m going home with this guy.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“My pleasure.”

I lift my eyes until they meet his. I study the gold nametag pinned to his chest. Luke. He looks like a Luke somehow.

“You know,” Luke says, “my shift ends in twenty minutes.”

I suck in a breath. Did he really just suggest what I think he’s suggesting? Even though I’d been idly fantasizing about him, his proposition freaks me out. I couldn’t really go home with a young boy like this, could I? And what if this is all a trick on his part to rob me?

Although it wouldn’t be too clever, considering I know where he works.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll just have the check.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

Am I? Spending a night with this boy might help me to forget about Joel. But I have a feeling when I wake up in the morning, I’ll feel even worse than I do now. This isn’t the answer. I don’t know what the answer is yet, but it’s not this.

“Just the check, please.”

Luke’s face drops, but he recovers quickly. “Whatever you’d like, ma’am.”

Another “ma’am.” I was right to turn him down. This kid makes me feel about a hundred years old. I’m not young anymore. Not the way I was when I first met Joel.

There’s no point in sitting here and torturing myself anymore. I need to either do something to get rid of Olive or I need to get the hell over it.





Chapter 17: The New Girl


Technically, it was the Walk of Shame. Cassie had an unplanned sleepover at her boyfriend’s apartment and is now traveling back home on the subway in the exact same clothes she wore last night, but she doesn’t feel shameful. She had a great time last night—at least, after Joel closed the blinds. He was great, three times over. As she sits on the train between a dozing businessman and a girl with a bullring through her nose, she feels like she is glowing.

Joel left early for his shift, but stuck a note under her phone that said, “Can we get dinner tonight? Also, TAKE A CAB.” And then a twenty-dollar bill underneath. She left it behind. She feels uncomfortable about taking any money from him, and in general doesn’t like the idea of having sex with a guy and finding money left for her after it’s over. He has no idea about the extent of her financial woes—it’s not something she wants to talk about. She loves the way he looks at her, and she worries he might look at her differently if he knew the whole truth.

Cassie makes it to her apartment building in forty-five minutes. The gray-white building with the tattered green awning is not nearly as nice as where Joel lives, but it’s much nicer than the tenement that Zoe lives in. This cozy one-bedroom apartment was also gifted to her by Grandma Bea in the will, and now she owns it, free and clear.

Grandma Bea and Grandpa Marv bought the apartment after their kids had all moved out. It was their retirement home. Cassie’s mother would always remark on how tiny it was. Don’t you two trip over one another? But Bea and Marv never got in each other’s way. They loved their tiny little haven. Whenever Cassie came to visit, Marv would be reading a book in the living room, and Bea would be baking in the kitchen. The apartment still smells like chocolate chip cookies.

Cassie loves the apartment and all the memories she has here. In the next year, she will be forced to sell it. She should have sold it a long time ago, but she stupidly clings to it. It’s home to her. She’ll wear the same jacket she’s had since high school and eat ramen noodles every night, but she doesn’t want to give up her home.

But if she doesn’t, it will be taken.

Or worse.

When she gets inside, the first thing Cassie does is go to her mailbox. There was a time in the past when it used to be fun to get mail. Like, when she was ten. Now she holds her breath every time she opens that metal mailbox. The squeak of the door makes her heart jump, like a trained response. But today it’s just the usual assortment of junk mail and only one bill for the electricity. There’s nothing in the mailbox that spoils her glow from last night.

Mrs. Richards holds the elevator door for her, and she leaps in just before it slides shut, clutching her purse to her chest. Mrs. Richards gives her a pleasant smile, and Cassie can tell the elderly woman is eager to make conversation. She and Grandma Bea used to be friends.

“How are you, Cassandra dear?” Mrs. Richards asks.

“Fine.” She pats her hair, hoping Mrs. Richards can’t tell she spent the night at a man’s apartment. She suspects her elderly neighbor wouldn’t approve. “How about you?”

“Oh, the usual.” Mrs. Richards rolls her eyes in a way that reminds Cassie of Grandma Bea. “The arthritis in my back is acting up. I’m telling you—don’t get old.”

Cassie laughs, but it’s an expression that always makes her uneasy. Don’t get old. How do you keep from getting old? Everyone ages, so the only way to keep from getting old is to die young.

The elevator lurches on the second floor like it always does. When Cassie first moved here, she’d have panic attacks in this elevator, which creaked and groaned with every turning of the gears overhead. On top of that, it’s about the size of a coffin. Being this close to Mrs. Richards and sharing the small amount of air in this tiny enclosed space is enough to shoot up her pulse every time.