Confessions

EVIE

“Sam,” I said, turning to my fake boyfriend urgently. He could clearly tell that I wasn’t messing around; I so rarely called him by his first name. “You should go. I’ll text you later, okay?”

Sam glanced at me, then at Greg, then at me again. “Are you sure? You stood up for me with Carla…if you need backup here…”

But I was insistent, and within a few minutes, Sam was gone, leaving me alone to face my ex-husband.

This sucked. After that incredible kiss at Sam’s parents’ house, after all the fun we’d had in the car, I’d really been looking forward to spending the night with him, business casual be damned. What the fuck did Greg think he was playing at, showing up here?

“It’s good to see you,” Greg said once we were settled on opposite couches in my family’s living room.

“Yeah, sure, Greg. You know, a phone call would’ve sufficed,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

“With what I have to say, I thought it would be best in person. Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more private?” he asked, glancing toward the kitchen where my parents were doing their best to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say right here.”

During the nearly ten years he was my husband, Greg had learned all my weaknesses. We’d gotten married extremely young, and even in those early days, he always knew how to manipulate me. So no, I was not going to invite him into my bedroom to talk more privately.

Looking at him still hurt like hell, despite everything he’d put me through. When he peered at me with those milk-chocolate eyes full of such determination, it was almost like he could melt the ice around my heart.

His stare reminded me of what we used to have before things fell apart—the sex, the deep conversations, the date nights.

But I had to remind myself: there was also the fighting, the guilt, and the shame of not being able to give my husband the one thing he wanted most.

His sleeping with our maid only put the final nail in the coffin of our marriage. If I was honest with myself, we should’ve ended things much sooner and saved ourselves the heartache.

Greg took a breath and started talking. “Listen, Evie, after the doctors told us you were infertile, I didn’t handle it right. You know, I always pictured myself raising a family…I threw myself into work, drank more than I should’ve, and yes, had an affair with Mia.

“But when I got home from work last week and my lawyer called saying you’d signed the papers, when I saw your rings lying on the counter and knew you were really gone…that was my wake-up call.

“I can live without kids. What I can’t live without is you. You’re my family, Evie.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

Was he serious with this? Now that everything was finally over, now that we were legally divorced, now that I’d sold my business and moved across the country, ~now~ he wanted another chance?

“Greg…do you know how many women struggle with infertility in the U.S. alone?” I asked.

I know he didn’t know the answer because I was always the one staying up late, researching fertility treatments, adoption, and whatever else I could think of to help us achieve the life we wanted.

Those were the very same late nights Greg spent at work—or probably, saying he was at work while he was actually screwing Mia.

“Nineteen percent,” I said. “And do you think when those nineteen percent of women told their partners what was going on, their partners responded the way you did?”

He shrugged. “Maybe some…”

“You’re right. Maybe some. But you could’ve been one of the ones who didn’t.”

“Is that what your new boyfriend is, then?” Greg asked. “The man who didn’t?”

I drew in an anxious breath, glowering at Greg. Of course he would bring Sam into the discussion, even though that was none of his business anymore.

Sam and I were still new. I’d be a fool to deny that there was something real happening there, but it wasn’t like the “do you want children” talk had come up yet.

“Unless…” Greg narrowed his gaze. “You haven’t told him…”

It was scarring to be treated like a broken baby-making machine by someone who was supposed to love me. Maybe Greg was right, and that same issue could destroy whatever was building between Sam and me right now.

But my heart couldn’t handle that possibility. Not yet.

“I think you should leave,” I said flatly. “I’m tired.”

“Evie—”

“Now, Greg,” I barked.

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’m staying at the Rand in town. Room 312. In case you wanna stop by. Otherwise, I’ll be in touch.”

I stepped aside, allowing Greg to slip out the door.

Wandering up to my bedroom, I turned on my phone, and after it took its sweet time loading, a voicemail popped up from my new landlord. My apartment would be move-in ready by the end of the week, and he’d be expecting my first month’s rent and security deposit.

I whooped quietly to myself. Never had I been so excited to give away a pile of money.

A gentle knock suddenly rattled my door, and Saanvi poked her head in as it opened. “Hey. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Just processing.”

“Good. Because we need to talk.”

“About what?” I asked.

The last time someone had asked to talk to me was half an hour ago. I was on a fake date with my fake boyfriend, whom I’d developed genuine feelings for, and then my ex-husband showed up and confessed his born-again love. What the fuck else was there to talk about?

“About how long you’ve been having sex with your boss…,” Saanvi said carefully.

~Jesus, fuck. How in the hell…~

“I’m not,” I lied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, Evie. I’m not stupid,” Saanvi huffed. “I saw the law firm’s website. There’s a photo of the CEO…of Sam.”

“Wait, what were you doing on the law firm’s website?” I asked, sidetracked with worry. “Are you and Tim having problems?”

“No. After Greg showed up tonight…I know how he used to get with you. I wanted to be prepared—to know what lawyers we had around here—in case he tried anything shady with the divorce, or you needed a restraining order or something.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Even though Saanvi had busted me, it was out of love. No matter what, I had someone in my corner. “You’re too smart, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a smirk. “Tell me everything.”

We both sat cross-legged on my bed like teenagers, and I filled Saanvi in on the ~actual~ way Sam and I had met. And then, I just couldn’t stop talking, spilling everything that had transpired after that.

Of course, the first thought that gushed from her mouth in response was something sexual. “Now, the night I saw you guys at the bar makes total sense.” She smirked. “So, does Sam, like, bend you over his desk and stuff?”

“Oh my God, Saanvi.” I huffed. “It’s not like that. We keep our hands off each other at work.”

She cocked a brow. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, if I wasn’t married and my boss looked like that, I’d be grinding him under the desk, on top of the desk, side of the desk—bitch, you name it.”

“Absolutely not,” I said, chuckling. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work in the morning.”

“Boo.” Saanvi groaned as she rose from my mattress and wandered for the exit. “I love you,” she said, smiling at me from the doorframe.

I smiled. “I love you too.”

Left alone at last, I couldn’t get Sam off my mind. It had to have been weird for him to see my ex out of nowhere like that. And I had promised I would text him later. I picked up my cell, opening our conversation.

Evie

Hey, you. I’m sorry about tonight…

Vázquez

Is Greg gone?

Evie

Yep.

Vázquez

What did he want?

I wasn’t ready to have the talk with Sam about something like my fertility, so giving him half an answer would have to do for now.

Evie

He wants to get back together.

Vázquez

So, is that something you want?

Evie

What I want is much more complicated.

It would be so easy to return to my ex-husband and settle back into the life I used to have: my extravagant shoes, a giant home, a view of the Seattle skyline.

Greg already knew I couldn’t have children, so I would never have to have that conversation with another man again. Greg wasn’t my boss, so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting him in trouble or giving him a terrible reputation at his place of business.

But after everything I’d been through, coming back to Vermont, reconnecting with my family, starting over in a new job… sinking into my old lifestyle wouldn’t work. Easy wasn’t what I was looking for. Not anymore.

Vázquez

What do you want, angel?

I sighed, overwhelmed with anxiety while sending my shortest message yet.

Evie

You.

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