The Ex by Freida McFadden(75)

This time, she couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely from her eyes, soaking the tissue in her hand. I imagined someone taking Andrew from me. I’ve only known him for months, but I can’t even fathom it. They’d have to kill me first. I was about to tell Lydia I understood, but then she blurted out:

“I wish I could talk to Francesca about this.”

Ouch.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but Francesca… she was like my sister. It’s all Joel’s fault that she’s gone. I’ll never forgive him for that.”

I couldn’t blame her for wishing Francesca was there to talk to. I still remember how isolated I felt when my relationship with Joel fell apart. It was horrible.

“The most important decision a woman makes in her life is who she chooses for her husband.” Lydia dabbed at her right eye with the tissue. “I know that sounds sexist but it’s true. Your husband is your partner in everything you do. A bad husband can wreck your career. He can affect your parenting. Peter was the wrong choice for me… he’s made me into… into…”

I frowned at her. “Lydia?”

She dropped the tissue on the counter, her eyes suddenly wild. “I took it out on the wrong person. I… was so goddamn angry at Joel for what he did to her. I couldn’t stand to see him moving on, especially when my life had gone to shit. And that girl. Cassie. God, she’s so young.”

“Yes,” I murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have. I was so angry though. You have no idea the things I’ve done, Anna.”

And then she told me everything.





Chapter 54: The New Girl


Where is Anna?

Cassie looks down at her phone, hoping for a call from Anna or Joel or somebody. Well, somebody aside from the person who’s been hanging up on her, which is apparently not Francesca.

Maybe she should call the police. Someone breaking into her apartment and writing “slut” on the wall feels like something she should call the police about. Then again, like Anna pointed out, they couldn’t do anything when it happened at the bookstore. And the last thing she wants is the cops nosing around her apartment.

Maybe she should call a locksmith.

Her doorbell finally rings and she nearly faints with relief. Anna’s here—thank God. Cassie hurries over to the door and throws it open. Except it’s not Anna.

It’s Lydia.

“Lydia?” Cassie gasps. How did she even get inside without buzzing up? But then again, her neighbors let anyone inside who looks halfway respectable. Lydia looks more than respectable in her expensive trench coat with her shiny blond hair. “What are you doing here?”

Lydia looks her up and down with her ice-blue eyes. Her eyes are nearly the same color as Joel’s but have none of their warmth. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Talk?” Cassie clears her throat. “Listen, Lydia, this isn’t a good time.”

“Nonsense.” Lydia pushes past her, then pulls a bottle of wine with the label Bonterra Vineyards from her purse. “I brought wine.”

In Lydia’s world, bringing wine is worth entrance anywhere, apparently.

Without being invited or removing her coat, Lydia strides into her kitchen and starts going through the cupboards. “Where do you keep the wine glasses?”

“I don’t have any.”

Lydia’s mouth falls open. “You don’t have any? How is such a thing possible?”

“I have cups…”

Cassie isn’t in the mood for the way Lydia sifts through her glasses and inspects each one. She finally selects a satisfactory glass and places it on the counter. She picks up the bottle and fiddles with the cork.

“Do you need a bottle opener?”

Lydia shakes her head. “No, I opened it last night.”

Sure enough, the cork comes loose easily. She tips the bottle over and fills the glass with dark red liquid. She slides it over to Cassie. “Here. You’ll like this.”

Cassie is reluctant at first, but then she realizes how much she could use a drink. This day has been nothing short of horrible.

“Thanks,” she says as she takes a sip. And she detects notes of cherry and rosemary and…

No, it just tastes like grape juice with a zing.

“Let’s have a seat,” Lydia says as she scans the room, looking for someplace to park herself. She scrunches her nose up at the sofa, but then deems the dining table acceptable. They sit opposite each other, Lydia settles gingerly into her seat as if she fears it might break.

“Aren’t you going to have wine?” Cassie asks.

“Oh, no.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “I don’t like that kind. Anna and Constantine brought it over last night. But you should drink up.”

So she does. She has another healthy sip, and she feels slightly better about the day. A nice, warm feeling comes over her. And she’s almost glad Lydia is here. Maybe Lydia isn’t her favorite person, but she doesn’t have to worry about an intruder in her house if she’s got company.

“What do you want to talk about?” Cassie finally says.

“Francesca.”

It’s hard for Cassie to keep from spitting out her wine. That was the last thing she expected Lydia to say. Back when Cassie thought Lydia and Francesca were still buddy-buddy, it might have made sense. But why now? Why when Francesca is dead?