The Ex by Freida McFadden(44)

I write back: Sure. When/where?

He names a location in the city that will be convenient for me to get to after work. It’s a bar. He wants to have a drink with me. After all these months, he’s asking me out for a drink. This is a very good sign.

I spend hours picking out just the right outfit. I’m not as pretty as Olive and definitely not as young, but I clean up good. I pick out a dark red skirt that shows off my legs and my favorite Wonderbra, and I sock away some makeup in my purse so I can touch up my face right before we meet. At the last second, I spot a gray hair in my right eyebrow, which freaks me out more than I’d like to admit. I had resigned myself to the sprinkling of gray hairs on my scalp that are now concealed by my color treatment. Do I need to start dyeing my eyebrows too?

For now, I’ll take care of this with a tweezers. But I certainly can’t let my eyebrows continue sprouting gray hairs. I have to look my absolute best if I even want to try to compete with Olive.

I wonder what happened with Olive. Did they break up? Or did he simply realize how much he misses me and is testing the waters?

When I show up, Joel is already waiting at the bar, clutching a Guinness in his right hand. That’s his favorite beer. I still remember all those little details about him. His favorite beer is Guinness. His favorite song is “The Distance” by Cake. His favorite dessert is apple pie. Does Olive know those things about him? I doubt it.

He’s got his phone out, and he’s typing something. There’s a smile playing on his lips. He looks… well, great. I hate to say dating Olive agrees with him, but something does. He’s wearing his green scrubs and his dark hair is tousled, but there’s something more youthful about him than I’ve seen in a long time. Years, maybe. He certainly doesn’t have any new gray eyebrow hairs sprouting.

He looks so good. So good it makes my chest ache. This is why I haven’t been able to date. I can’t get this man out of my head.

“Hi.” I wave excitedly as I approach the table. “How are you doing?”

Joel lifts his eyes from his phone. The smile drops abruptly off his lips, but then returns. But it’s a different kind of smile. Unreadable. “Hi.”

He stands up, and suddenly, we’re hugging. My body is pressed against his, my face in his shoulder, and his arms are wrapped around me. I haven’t hugged Joel in so long, and it feels so damn good. It’s like the last eight months just melt away. I want to cling to him and never let go.

“It’s good to see you again,” I whisper into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

When he finally pulls away, we both drop into our respective seats. He flashes that unreadable smile at me again. “How have you been?” he asks.

“Good.” I signal the waiter for a drink. “How about you?”

“Good,” he says. “Same old.”

“Right,” I say. “And how’s the hospital?”

“Good. The usual.”

“Masterson still counseling all the old people about sex?”

Joel flashes me a tired smile. “Yep.”

God, it’s good to talk to him again. When we’re together, the conversation just flows. It’s like we’ve never been apart. It can’t be like this with him and Olive. It can’t.

“I heard it’s going to snow this weekend,” I say.

“Oh yeah?” Joel rubs at the back of his neck. “Wow. That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, snow in November!”

“Yeah…”

I wonder if we’ll be living together again by Christmas. It’s not so bad living with Nonna, but there’s nothing like sharing a bed with the man you love. And one thing I can say for sure, now that I’m here with Joel, is that I still love him.

The waitress deposits my beer on the table. I take a long swig and get a nice, warm feeling through my whole body. This will be a night I’m going to remember. I’m sure of it.

“Listen.” Joel traces a line on the table with a stray droplet of beer. “The reason I asked you here tonight is…”

I lift my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest. Here it is. The words I’ve been longing to hear. “Yes…”

“It needs to stop.”

My eyebrows bunch together at his cryptic message. “What needs to stop?”

Joel lets out a long sigh. “Quit the games. I know what you’ve been doing. I spent all of yesterday cleaning up the mess you made.” He pauses. “I know it was you.”

I get a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach. This isn’t what I expected at all. “Joel…”

“She called the police, you know.” He lifts his blue eyes now. There’s no love in those eyes anymore. How could I have been so stupid—again? He doesn’t want me back. Not when he’s got her. “I didn’t tell them your name. But if it happens again…”

“You’ll have me locked up.”

He rubs his temple with his fingertips. “That’s not what I want. I just want you to stop. Please.”

“Do you love her?”

I didn’t mean to ask him that. That’s the last question I wanted to ask. But now it’s out there, and I can tell from his face what the answer is.

“It’s early,” he says. “But… I think… yes. I do. I love her.”