Me:You are walking a seriously thin line with that comment.
David:Just being honest, my sweet. Don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer.
I could’ve stopped to consider if he was right or wrong, but I just wanted to be angry. Before I could respond, though, he sent another message.
David:Look, I wouldn’t send you if there was anything to worry about. That shit’s so done, it can only be funny.
Funny—that was an odd way of looking at it. Once a playboy, David could now only find hilarity in the mere thought of wanting another woman. All right. This way of looking at it was getting better.
I inhaled deeply. I had a choice—chastise him for a past that couldn’t be changed and was likely to come up often, or accept that it happened, and in the end, he’d chosen me. I twisted my lips in thought right as a knock came on the dressing room door.
“Do you need anything?” the salesgirl asked.
I opened the door and forced a smile. “Yes. Lingerie. Bring the best stuff you have. Anything you think David would like . . . since you’ve worked with him before.”
“Cer-certainly,” she stammered, reddening.
I laughed to myself when she’d left. Just because I was going to take the high road didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.
As I stood at the register in my new blouse, I studied the girl. All the women I knew of in David’s past were beautiful, unsurprisingly. He could have any girl he wanted on her knees in a snap. So I decided I’d take it as a compliment that he’d picked me.
“Mr. Dylan called again,” she said as she packaged my purchases. “He wanted me to include this.” She showed me a small box with a ribbon around it. “He says you’re not to open it until tonight, though.”
“Did you pick it out?” I asked.
“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “He knew exactly what he wanted, and we had it.”
I gave her a once-over and decided that was okay. “All right. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Sure,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see you again.”
“Maybe not,” I muttered under my breath, but held my smile in place.
* * *
In the passenger’s seat of David’s rental SUV, I bit my thumbnail and stared out the window. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Bill at all. Just the idea had my stomach in knots, and I was beginning to regret my chicken tacos at lunch.
“So, why exactly am I carrying big boxes while David gets to hang by the car?” Gretchen asked from the backseat.
“I don’t want to be disrespectful to Bill,” I explained to her for the second time.
“Who cares?” she asked.
David snickered. “Gretchen, remind me to buy you a drink sometime.”
“You guys, seriously,” I said, exasperated. “I’m still married to the man, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“I’m just teasing,” she said, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s very mature of you.”
“Anyway,” I added, nodding at David as I addressed Gretchen, “you’ve seen these two together. They aren’t exactly friendly.”
“I promised to behave,” David stated, his eyes focused out the windshield.
“My answer is still no—you’re staying downstairs.”
“Don’t worry, David,” Gretchen said. “I can handle Bill. I took a kickboxing class in college.”
She was trying to be funny, but David’s jaw tightened, and I groaned. “Don’t needle him, Gretch. We’ll be in and out in under twenty minutes, I guarantee.”
