Reckless(88)

I’m frozen, like a deer trapped on a long stretch of highway traffic. The only movement is my pounding heart that I can practically see thumping through my tank top.

I peer around Mila, wondering if I’m experiencing some kind of psychotic break. How else can I explain why Jamie—Jamie, my cheating douchebag ex—is standing a few feet away?

He and Ethan are chatting it up like old friends, but I can’t make sense of what they’re saying because blood is rushing through my ears.

“Babe. Want you to meet someone.” Ethan turns and smiles down at me. That smile pierces my heart.

Will he look at me the same way once he knows what happened? And that it happened with his friend?

Oh, God, I slept with one of Ethan’s friends. I told Ethan the broad strokes of what went down with my ex, but not how I found out Jamie was married and certainly not how my life imploded afterward. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I take the doll Mila was trying to hand me, and she bolts for her friends who are surrounding the swing set. The one Jamie just set up.

Dusting off my shins, I slowly stand on unsteady legs. I feel all knobby-kneed and light-headed. Maybe I’ll pass out or die from a heat stroke and spare myself this conversation.

Swallowing, I let Ethan take my clammy hand.

“James, this is my girlfriend Tori.”

I steel myself and look at the dirtbag, who seems almost as shocked as I am to see him.

He’s hulkier than when we were together, which is silly because he was already a big guy. Now he reminds me of a beefed-up bulldog, all bulky mass punctuated with a tiny head.

“James, is it?” I ask, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice. “Not Jamie?” Asshole was full of lies. I’m not surprised he goes by a different name.

He laughs uneasily and shifts back and forth. “Tori. Jesus Christ, girl. It’s been a while.”

Ah, the fucker is going to admit he knows me? This should be fun.

Nausea is swirling in my gut, acid thick in the back of my throat. “Not since your birthday last summer,” I add helpfully.

Ethan looks back and forth between us. “You guys know each other?”

I open my mouth to spew forth all the ways James can go to hell when he laughs.

“Yeah, I know Tori. She used to bartend at this place in Austin my buddies and I used to go to sometimes, but it’s been a while.” He gives me a pointed look to keep my mouth shut.

That’s how you’re going to play it?

Ethan wraps his arm around my shoulder. I’m so grateful to have him next to me, I could cry.

James’s eyes narrow as he watches us together, the cool smile spreading on his face making me more anxious. “I thought you were trying to get Allison back. It’s a shame you spent all last year wanting to make it work, hoping to win her back.”

Fuck my life, he did not just say that.

Ethan coughs. “We went south a long time ago. Not sure there was anything to work out.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Pretty sure I just heard her tell Felicia that you guys might reconcile.” He points his chin to the other side of the tent where Allison is talking to a woman with long black hair. Jamie’s wife. Yes, I remember her naked ass as she blew her husband. Isn’t this a festive party?

“No, man.” Ethan squeezes my shoulder. “You must’ve misheard.”

I’m going to hurl. Would it be wrong to shank Jamie—I mean James—first?

Beverly waves everyone over to the buffet table, and I skirt out of the way, a potent mixture of shame and contempt rounding the curves of my heart like a raging river.

“Tori, dear,” Beverly whispers, “can you do me a favor and grab more napkins out of the kitchen?”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life.



* * *



Except for the cake cutting, I manage to hide out in the kitchen. Whipping up more fruit salad or dip. Washing dishes. Making sure the kids make it to the potty in time. I eventually fall into the familiar routine of making a few guests mixed drinks.

When Beverly asks if I’m okay, I tell her I have a headache, and she pats my hand sweetly and offers pain relievers. When Ethan asks if I’d like to join him outside, I use the same excuse, even though lying to him makes me feel guilty. But there’s no telling what I might say to Jamie right now, and I won’t let myself make a scene at Cody’s birthday party. Not with so many of Ethan’s business associates here.

This is where my sister would tell me to lock down the crazy. That it’s not worth the repercussions of being unfiltered.

I’ll tell Ethan the truth after the guests have left.

Not here, though.

Not now.

Through the back window, the sounds of the party waft up through the late afternoon and early evening. Children laughing. Women gossiping. Men talking about horses and beer and cigars. The scent of barbecue and cedar floating in the air.

On a typical day, I’d love this kind of party. I’d be playing with the kids on the new swing set. Joking and mingling and having a blast. Taking Ethan’s hand so we could dance to the Rolling Stones drifting from the sound system.

Wild Horses, I think with a smile. Logan must’ve made the playlist.

Instead, I’m hiding and confused and hurt.

Because it pains me to see Allison planted next to Ethan at the picnic table with her parents and his mom. It hurts to see the easy way they laugh, and the picture-perfect way they look when Cody climbs onto his dad’s lap, and Mila wanders over to her mom’s side.