“He asked me why I went to see Ethan.”
“Oh, well thatisa legitimate ass question.”
I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn’t brought up this topic. Gabby was also still a little upset with me for seeing Ethan and not telling her about it. I hadn’t wanted to explain my decision to anyone in the first place, which is why I kept it to myself. Gabby is the one who’d held me crying many nights after I’d finally gotten the strength to leave him. Even when I felt weak and had wanted to go back—yes, those days did happen—she’d been my rock, promising me that I’d made the right decision.
“I don’t know why I did, initially. Maybe I felt like I owed it to him.” I held up my hand when an incredulous looked passed over her face. She looked like she was about to read me the riot act. “I know. I know, Gab. I don’t owe him shit, but there was a part of me that felt guilty for just up and leaving the way I did. No note or anything. And Iknowit’s stupid to feel that way, but as Dr. Winston has told me, feelings don’t always make sense.”
Gabby took a few deep breaths. I assumed it was an attempt to let go of her bubbling anger. Any discussion of Ethan often led to her flying off the handle. And considering her past, I could understand.
“Please don’t tell me you still feel that way.”
“I—” I began, only to be cut off.
“Even if you do feel that way, just tell me you don’t. For my sanity and peace of mind. Because I swear, if you tell me you think you owe that conniving motherfucker anything…”
“Gabby,” I stated calmly, grabbing both of her hands that were frantically waving midair. “I know I don’t owe him anything. We metonce,”I emphasized. “He apologized, and he hasn’t made any attempt to contact me again.”
Okay, that wasn’t the full truth either. Ethan did email me again after that article came out. I guess somehow he’d heard about it and emailed me to apologize again for all the trouble and the possible damage to my professional reputation. That was the last contact I’d had with Ethan, but I didn’t feel the need to tell that to Gabby. She still wasn’t convinced his first apology was sincere. But she hadn’t looked into his eyes the way I had. She didn’t hear the sincerity in his voice and the finality in his eyes when we parted ways that day.
“Now, can we drop it?”
“Fine.” She blew out a hard breath. “You just know what talking abouthimdoes to me.”
“I do, which is why I won’t be bringing up that name ever again. You want to stop at that ice cream shop not too far from here?” It was late September but the weather was still warm, and ice cream sounded like the perfect end to this day.
“You and your sweet tooth,” she laughed.
“They have vegan ice cream,” I singsonged, trying to convince her.
“Who gets ice cream after working out?” She shook her head.
“We do.”
“Whatever. On the way over you can tell me more about what you plan to do about your Xavier’s situation.”
“Thereisno Xavier situation.” I gathered the rest of my belongings, stuffing my work clothes from earlier into my workout bag.
“Hmm, we’ll talk about it over ice cream.”
I just shook my head and followed her out of the locker room. Ever since that casual exchange between Xavier and me at the restaurant, which Gabby happened to see, she’d been telling me how much we weren’t over. I’m sure telling her about his call Saturday night only served to spur her insistence. I didn’t feel like telling her again that we were through. Better yet, I didn’t feel like addressing the ache that still lingered in my chest at the mere thought of him and me being over.
****
A few days later, I strolled into the office a little after nine A.M. It was late for me, but I’d had a breakfast meeting with a client’s spouse’s lawyer. We’d been able to come to some agreement on the terms of a divorce, and it looked like this one would be over relatively quickly. I was happy about that because I was about to take on another client who, while not famous, was rather wealthy and I just knew this divorce was going to drag out.
“Good morning, Liza. Do I have any messages?” I asked, stopping by the receptionist’s desk.
“Yup, just one from Richard Crawford,” she answered, handing me a paper she’d written the message on.
“Thank you.” I took the note and headed to my office. Reading the note, I stopped mid-stride when I saw the restaurant where we were scheduled to have our meeting.
“Liza, this has to be changed. I can’t eat at this restaurant.”
She gave me a puzzled look. “I thought you likedGrant’s.I’d told Mr. Crawford’s assistant it would be fine.”
I was shaking my head before all the words were out of her mouth. “I do—I mean, I did. I can’t doGrant’s.” There was no way I wanted to take the chance of running into Xavier again. “You know what? I’ll give you a list of restaurants we need to avoid from here on out.” Xavier owned too many restaurants around this damn city. I needed to make it a point to tell Liza to avoid all of them.
“I can’t.”
