“It’s Jenna.”

“Whatever. Meet us at seven at Boggs for dinner.”

***

Dinner wasn’t terrible, mostly because it felt like four old friends from college catching up, rather than a double date. Though, that was despite Logan’s constant flirting with Justine. Actually, he’d been flirting with Justine at the bar while we waited for our table. But when we were seated for dinner, he started flirting with Jenna, too. The bonehead still couldn’t tell them apart—even though I’d pointed out that one was wearing red and the other black.

After we finished eating, Logan suggested we go over to the bar across the street. I’d ditched him last time, so I went along with it, even though I would have rather gone home. At one point he and Justine went to dance, leaving Jenna and me alone to talk.

“So…are you seeing anyone?” She sipped her vodka and cranberry through a skinny red straw.

I tried to hide my flinch. “No.”

“Me either. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven’t gone out on a date in months.” She smiled and tilted her head. “What’s your excuse?”

I didn’t want to be rude, but I also didn’t want to explain anything. Luckily, the bartender came by and saved me from answering.

“Can I get you two another round?”

I looked to Jenna.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d love another.”

“Just for her, please. I’m good.”

The bartender walked away.

“You’re not joining me for another drink?” She smiled.

“I have a lot of work to do in the morning.”

“Oh. Okay.” She reached for her purse. “Can you excuse me for just a minute? I need to run to the ladies’ room.”

“Of course.” I stood and waited for her to get out of her seat.

While she was in the ladies’ room, I took out my phone and started to scroll through email. Nothing caught my attention, so I opened up Instagram.

The first photo that popped up was a picture on Eve’s account. We’d followed each other over the summer. Fuck. I shouldn’t have taken out my phone. It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. Eve and her husband Tom were smiling wide for the camera on one side of a table, and sitting across from them, looking just as happy, was Val and some douchebag. How did I know the guy was a douchebag? Simple. He was sitting next to my girl. The picture was like a bad car accident. I knew it was stupid to look, but I couldn’t stop staring. After way too long, I managed to drop my eyes down to read the caption.

Shenanigans are overdue.

Logically, I knew I had zero right to get pissed. She’s supposed to move on, go on dates, experience life—that’s the fucking reason we weren’t together. But did it have to be so easy for her?

I looked down at her face again. Over the summer, I’d learned her smiles—the nervous one, the fake one she put on when she was trying to be polite, and the real one she’d given me so often. And that there, that was the real damn thing. I wanted to hurl my phone across the room in the worst way.

But because I’m a glutton for punishment, I instead clicked from Instagram over to Match.com. I only had to type in V and her name auto populated, probably because I’d searched it so many times. Her profile popped up on my screen, and I got the wind knocked out of me. Val’s profile status had been changed sometime over the past twenty-four hours—from Inactive to Active.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I’d left it up to fate, and it looked like fate had fucked me.

Jenna returned from the bathroom while I was still staring at my phone.

“Did you miss me?” She batted her eyelashes, and her newly glossed lips shimmered.

I should get out of here with her. If Val could move on so easily, so could I.

But…God, I was such a pussy.

I stood and dug into my pocket for cash. Tossing enough on the bar to cover three times what we drank, I looked at Jenna and held up my phone. “I’m sorry. Something’s come up. I need to run.”

“Oh no. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah. I just…need to call it a night. I’m really sorry. It was nice seeing you, Jenna.”

“Do you…want my number?”

I didn’t want to insult her more than I already had by not calling. “I was honest earlier when I said I wasn’t seeing anyone. But I did meet someone this summer, and I’m just not over her yet.”

Jenna smiled sadly. “Lucky girl.” She opened her purse and dug something out. Handing me a business card, she said, “If you want help getting over her, give me a call. Not many men would have admitted what you just did, and I really appreciate that. I like you. It doesn’t need to be more than it is. Call if you just want some company one night.”

I leaned in and kissed her cheek, taking the card from her hand. “Thanks, Jenna. Take care of yourself.”

Chapter 29

* * *

Valentina

“So…any interesting men at work?” Eve poured wine into her glass, but I held my hand over mine, stopping her from refilling.

“You asked me that a week ago when we went to lunch.”

“I know. But you were sulking still. I was hoping you’d notice some once you started smiling again. And why don’t you want more wine?”

I shrugged. “The smile is still fake. I’m getting good at it. And I don’t want more wine because I just feel worse after I have too much to drink.”

Tonight was movie night. Eve and I hadn’t had our regular monthly get-together in a while. First I’d been in Montauk all summer, and then when I was finally back home, I’d had a ton going on the first few weeks of work. Between open school night, preparing lesson plans, and settling back at home, the only thing I seemed to find time to do was pout.

It had been my turn to pick the movie, so I’d rented some sappy, sad drama about a dog dying.

“My mother used to have a saying. Pain makes us strong. Tears make us brave. A broken heart makes us wise. But wine makes us forget all that crap.”

I’d attempted to shake off the heavy feeling of melancholy, but I just couldn’t get past it, no matter how hard I tried.

“When Ryan and I split up, I felt lost. I wasn’t sure how to be just me when we’d been a couple for so long. But thinking back, I never really longed for Ryan as a man. I longed for the comfort of who we were. It was almost like quitting smoking—you know it’s not good for you…but yet when you stop, you feel like you’re missing a big part of your life. It’s just hard to get over the habit. It’s different with Ford. I miss him…not a routine or coupledom. I miss sitting around talking at 2 a.m. I miss the way he looked at me—like I was something special, the way he cupped my cheeks before he kissed me. The way he made me laugh. When we were together, everything just felt super easy and natural, and he made me feel…I don’t know…safe. Even though I’d been cheated on and hurt, I felt like I could trust him. You know?”

The hopeful spark in Eve’s eyes fizzled out. “You’re really in love with him.”

I nodded. “I don’t even know when it happened. One minute I was minding my own business and getting by each day, and the next I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning. I thought it was safe to have a good time with him because I never expected it to be more than just that. You know? I just didn’t expect it to be him.”

“I get it. I really do. I didn’t expect the love of my life to be a man in his fifties who wears a Mister Rogers sweater and goes to bed at nine o’clock. But that’s how it happens—with the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time. When we looked forward, we couldn’t see anything. But all of a sudden we look back and shake our heads—how did we miss seeing this is what would happen when we looked at him the first time, because suddenly it’s as clear as day.”

I sighed. “I need to move on.”

“Are you sure that’s what you need, Val? Maybe you should talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason you can’t move on. Sometimes you need to follow your gut and fight for what feels right. He might be feeling the same way.”

“No. It was only supposed to be a summer fling. I’m being silly.”

“You’re not being silly. You should have time to grieve the loss of someone you care so much about. Just don’t let it be two years, like after the divorce. Okay?”

I nodded. “Anyway, to get back to your original question, there is a nice-looking guy at work. He’s in my department. Italian is his first language, so he has a sexy accent.”

Eve sipped her wine. “Go on. Tell me more.”

I shrugged. “He’s been a teacher for fifteen years, but just started this year because he moved to New Jersey from Connecticut. He’s a widower at only forty.”

“Wow. How did his wife die?”

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t said. He just mentioned that his wife died three years ago, and he moved back to New York to be closer to some family. He has a teenage daughter.”

“How’s his ass?”

I chuckled. “I didn’t notice.”

“What’s he look like?”

“I don’t know. Italian—dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair. He’s nice looking.”