Rick and I haven’t spoken in over a year. That was at my request. Even after our divorce was finalized and he’d tried to put me through the wringer, I tried to play cordial.
But, when I found myself coming close to organizing the menu and holiday celebrations for his parents, even after our divorce, for the third year in a row, I had to tap out.
“He’s okay,” Shanice answers. “Still seeing that woman.” She rolls her eyes, making me smile.
“Don’t be like that. Maybe she makes him happy.”
According to Meghan, Rick has been dating a woman about ten years younger than him, off and on for the past year. This relationship occurred after he permanently broke up with hisassistant, Lauren, whom he got together with not even weeks after I told him I wanted a divorce.
Let my ex tell it, he only slept with Lauren out of heartbreak from the breakdown of our marriage. While he was still trying to reconcile things with me, he was sleeping with his secretary.
“Trust me, he’s miserable,” Meghan continues.
“He was just asking me the other day how you were doing. ‘Is your mother finished decorating her house?’ ‘What’s it look like inside?’ ‘Did she use the furniture from our old house?’ ‘Is she still dating that twenty-five-year-old kid?’”
“How did he even know I was dating someone that young?” I eye my daughter.
“Because I told him,” she says with her chin lifted. “The same way I talk to you about who he’s dating?—”
“Without me asking,” I remind her.
Laughing, she shrugs. “Anyway, the truth is, he’s still hung up on you. He asked me a couple of weeks ago if I would ask if he could come over for Thanksgiving.”
“All the way from Atlanta?” I roll my eyes.
I moved to Texas six months ago after searching the area since Wanda, still my best friend, encouraged me to move once I’d gotten the money from my mother’s life insurance policy.
Now Wanda and her husband only live fifteen minutes away.
If they weren’t away this week, visiting Wanda’s in-laws, I would’ve had Joel contact her.
“He tried to lie and say that Aunt Wanda had asked him to come for the holiday.”
I push out a harsh breath, knowing she would never do such a thing without talking to me first. That might be her brother, but she is my sister by choice.
“That’s not happening. I plan on having a quiet Thanksgiving dinner at home with my baby girl.” I smile at Meghan. “That wasthe plan even before this injury.” I sigh as I glance down at my hip.
“You may be better by next week. According to the internet, a bruised hip like yours only takes about a week or two to heal up, or at least allow you to walk on it.”
I don’t have time to respond before there’s a knock on the door.
“Were you expecting someone?” Meghan asks.
I shake my head while watching her move go to the front door.
“Mr. Townsend,” I hear her say.
My eyes widen at the mention of his name. Immediately, smooth away any fly aways from my ponytail that Meghan styled my relaxed, just below shoulder length, greying hair. For a moment, I curse myself for choosing not to put on one of my signature wigs this morning.
Then I pull myself together and remember that I’m in my house, injured no less, and recovering from yesterday’s fall.
“Afternoon, Meghan.”
Joel’s deep, rumbling voice causes a quiver in my stomach. I shake my head and realize that it must be hunger. It’s getting late in the afternoon, and I haven’t had lunch yet.
Hunger. That has to be it.
“It’s later than I meant, but a few issues at the ranch held my attention.” His voice grows nearer.
