The Ex by Freida McFadden(84)

“I’m sorry,” Cassie says. “I’m so sorry, but… I… I can’t.”

His face drops. Suddenly, he looks much older than his age. He could be twenty years her senior. “What?”

“I can’t,” Cassie says again, more firmly this time.

And I can never tell you why.

She stands up from her seat, her legs nearly giving way beneath her. She’s glad he didn’t get on his knees to ask. It would have made it harder, but it was hard enough as is.

“I’m sorry,” she says one last time.

And then she leaves him sitting there in the restaurant where they had their first date, holding the blue velvet box.



Anna



“Anna?”

Dean’s voice above my head jars me out of my almost sleep. I’d never dozed off with Andrew in my arms. I look down at his sweet sleeping face, feeling a spike of terror that I could have dropped him or worse. My baby. My only baby.

I have to be more careful.

“Anna,” he says again. His brows are knitted together. “You need to go to sleep.”

“I’m fine.” I stifle a yawn and Andrew stirs. “I just took a nap.”

“No. You were asleep for like ten minutes. That’s not even enough to get to REM sleep.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Please, Anna,” he says, holding out his arms. “Give me the baby.”

I shake my head and hold Andrew tighter to my chest. “You have to work tomorrow. I don’t. I’ll stay up with him.”

“I’ll call in sick then.”

“It’s fine. Your patients need you.”

“It’s not fine.” Dean sinks down onto the sofa next to me. There are purple circles under his dark eyes. “Anna, I’m worried about you. You never sleep. And ever since the baby came, you’ve been… acting strangely…”

I snort. “Acting strangely?”

“You don’t think so?” He squeezes his knees with his fists. “Like you’re obsessed with thinking our neighbors are trying to steal Andrew. You talk about it constantly, even though they haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You don’t see the way Donna looks at me. She asks a million questions about Andrew.”

“She’s just being friendly. Mark said Donna doesn’t even like children.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Right.” He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t agree. How could he not notice Donna’s desperation when she smiles and tells me Andrew looks cute in his little coat? “And then in the evening when I’m here, sometimes you just… disappear. You just pull on your coat and leave without saying a word. Where do you go?”

“I don’t go anywhere.”

“Obviously you go somewhere.”

I stare at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t disappear.

Do I?

His eyes soften. “I know it was hard on you what happened. It was hard on me too. Believe me.”

I look up sharply. It was awful for him, but he isn’t the one who got butchered on the operating table. “Please don’t compare.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly.

I shake my head and clutch my abdomen. It’s still sore where they cut into me.

“I just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I’ve been googling postpartum psychosis and—”

“Postpartum psychosis!” I burst out, loud enough that Andrew’s eyes fly open. “You think I’m psychotic?”

“No, no… I don’t… I just…” He blinks a few times. “Look, you told me you’d consider going to a therapist when we got back from the hospital…”

I fumble with my nursing bra. “I’m not psychotic, Dean.”

“I never said you were. I just don’t want things to get out of control.” He chews on his lip. “Please just get some sleep tonight, Anna. Will you at least do that for me?”

My heart is pounding. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I tried, even though I’ve been awake for… well, a lot of hours. Psychotic? How could he say that to me?

All right, maybe most people wouldn’t break into another woman’s house and write on her walls. But I did it for a reason. A good reason. I wish I could explain it to Dean, but he wouldn’t understand. He never even thinks about that girl who dumped him in Chicago.

“I’m going out,” I say as I hook my bra back up and thrust Andrew into Dean’s arms. “I need to get some air. You can take the baby if you want him so bad.”

Dean watches me, his eyebrows still bunched together. He’s worried, but he’s worried over nothing. I’m fine. Better than fine. I’ve been thinking so much more clearly than I have in a very long time.

“It’s cold out,” Dean points out. Andrew is wailing in his arms. “Why don’t you stay here?”

“I need some air,” I say again.

“Where are you going?”

“I haven’t decided.”

New York is a big city—I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to go. I could walk around the park. I could see a movie. I could visit Francesca’s restaurant.