“Maybe you’re going through a midlife crisis?” A little early since he was thirty-eight. I was a young thirty-two. “When we met at college, you drove a car so loud I’m surprised neighborhood dogs didn’t file complaints.”
“Funny.”
“You think I got jokes. Check this? I had a thing for older men. Should’ve flirted with the poli-sci 101instructorand not his broken-down teacher’s assistant.”
“Get. In. The. Car.” His tense mouth relaxed. “Coffee, just how you like it, is in the cupholder.”
“Alright, I can’t afford an Uber, anyway.” I slid in, mumbling, “I should create some fake accounts to one-star bomb you.”
“Actually,” he said, reaching in.
I gave a mortified yelp as he strapped me into the seat. On our first date, he’d done the same thing. He’d said,Gotta keep my treasure safe. Now, he carried the blend of bergamot, blackcurrant, jasmine, and birch. The perfect amount of Creed Aventus. Back then he’d bathed in a bottle of You Da Man cologne from the Dollar Tree.
As he latched my seatbelt, I caught a flash of a memory that nearly broke me. Washington had asked why he couldn’t snap me into my seatbelt after our son…. He had the audacity to ask while we sat with the therapist, makingmethe problem.
“Sorry, habit,” he muttered.
As my eyes turned glassy, he stepped back. “Anyway, you can only rate a driver you’ve driven with. I don’t mind starting up anUber. Of course, I’d only give you rides. One-star me all night long,bébé.”
Washington shut the door and hustled around the Land Rover.
As he got in, I folded my arms. “You’re being weird.”
“How so?”
“Flirty.”
He turned in the seat. “We were always flirtatious. Remember when we used to sit cross-legged, naked in bed? No touching until we said something?—”
“Romantic,” I snapped.
“That we had never said before. Self-restraint and self-torture? Best days of my life because when I touched you it was heaven.”
I reached for the door. This baby-maker had gone out of business. Googled it.Permanently closedin all red caps.
That’s why I let you go. You’re too intelligent to be so dumb.
“Okay! What do you want to hear, Maddy?” His tone was a rasp of regret. “You asked for a divorce. I allowed pride to agree when I should’ve shut that crap down from day one and fought harder. Hell, I shoulda tied you up and kept you home.”
“Ah, now you’re giving me Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. Cute.”Ugh.He hadn’t stalked me, so why resort to deadpan comedy?
“I shouldn’t have agreed to a divorce, is all I’m saying. If you want me to stalk you, hell, I’ll do it every evening after six p.m. until seven in the morning when I need to get ready for court. Twenty-four seven on the weekends.” When I didn’t respond, Washington pressed the keyless ignition and pulled away from the curb. “We’ve got plans, Maddy. Starting with a dinner at my old mentor’s mansion.”
I cringed. I didn’t miss that part of my old life. Didn’t miss … anything.
I turned to stare at Washington and changed my mind about wanting to be stalked. I couldn’t look at him. Elijah had his father’s smile and deep-set eyes. He’d been four years old. When folks said Eli looked like his daddy, I’d smacked my husband so hard with my hip I hoped Washington twisted an ankle. I was proud, though. Our baby was as handsome as his dad.
Okay, Maddy, who’s the dummy now?I orchestrated a confined meltdown in the passenger seat because being angry was supposed to protecthimfromme.“Wash, can’t I just do community service? Like paint a mural in the Bywater? It’ll have a message.”Don’t get caught.
“Paint me a check for my coupe.”
“I don’t have Bentley money, Washington! You should’ve driven something earth-conscious like a Prius. Besides, you haven’t proven it was me.”
He slammed a foot on the brake, and my hands darted for the dashboard. The belt hugged me in a confident embrace. That didn’t stop me from massaging my neck and gasping. “Ugh. Whiplash! I-I can’t feel my neck.”
“Should I take your ungrateful behind back to the police station?”
“I said, my neck.”
