The Ex Page 8

  And now out it comes. In the worst possible way.

  “Don’t be silly, Violet,” Lydia says. “She’s much younger than Francesca.”

  Oh God.

  “She’s not…” The color has returned to Joel’s face and now he’s turning red. “I mean, she doesn’t look like…”

  Lydia looks amused. “It’s fine to have a type, Joel. Just own it.”

  Joel glances at Cassie, then back down at his sneakers. Cassie had yet to see a photo of the infamous Francesca, although God knows, she’d tried when she was at his apartment. She did a quick search of the photos on his bookcase, but they were just his parents and his brother.

  But when Cassie went to the bathroom, she was certain she could smell a hint of an unfamiliar perfume. Was that the lingering scent of Francesca? It wasn’t like she could ask.

  “Are you coming or going?” Joel asks his friends. It’s obvious he’s hoping they’re going so he and Cassie can be alone.

  “Just arrived,” Pete says.

  Joel’s face falls, which seems to amuse Lydia. “Poor you,” she says.

  Pete elbows his wife. “You’re going to join us, right, Joel? We’ve been dying to meet this new woman of yours.”

  “Girl,” Lydia corrects him under her breath. They all pretend not to have heard her.

  “Uh,” Joel says.

  Pete grins at Cassie—his dopey smile is a stark contrast to his wife’s icy gaze. “Come on, Cassie. We promise we won’t bite.”

  Cassie and Joel exchange looks. “Of course,” she says. “We’d love to join you.”

  As if she had a choice.”

  If Cassie and Joel had been alone, they would have gone through the park in a leisurely way with their hands linked. But now Joel is staying a respectable two feet away from her at all times, standing only just close enough that she can hear him when he speaks loudly. He’s really freaked out by his friends showing up. Is he ashamed of her? Ashamed that he’s dating a girl ten years younger than him? One who doesn’t look like she’s walked out of the pages of Vogue for a day at the zoo?

  Or is he embarrassed that his new girlfriend is apparently a dead ringer for his old girlfriend?

  Or maybe she doesn’t want to know.

  Violet is remarkably well-behaved. Lydia barks commands at her every minute. Violet, haven’t you been riding that turtle statue long enough? Violet, if you’re going to touch the glass, please hold out your hands for me to sanitize. Violet, please walk at a faster pace—you’re with adults. Cassie doesn’t see Lydia as the sort of person she could ever be friendly with. Anna, on the other hand, sticks close to Lydia at all times, observing her as if for cues on how to be a proper mother. Every few minutes, the two of them whisper secrets to one another.

  Cassie would bet every cent she doesn’t have that they’re talking about her.

  After an hour has passed, Cassie is more than ready to leave. She’s trying to send cues to Joel that she wants to go home. She glances at her watch no fewer than five times and yawns loudly twice. She’s sure he’s going to suggest going home at one point, but then instead, he says, “Hey, how about lunch?”

  How can she refuse?

  They find a café that sells horribly overpriced zoo concession food. Cassie has no appetite, but she grudgingly tells Joel to get her a hotdog. The three men take Violet with them to get the food while the three women stay behind to hold the table. Cassie would have liked to get in the line with the men, but Lydia links arms with her and practically drags her to the table.

  She has a bad feeling Lydia wants to get her alone.

  As Anna settles down at the table, she places a hand on her stomach and her brown eyes widen. “Ooh, that was a big kick!”

  Lydia laughs. “It only gets worse, my dear.”

  “How far along are you?” Cassie asks, happy to talk about something besides herself.

  Anna beams. “Five months.”

  “How about you, Cassie?” Lydia focuses on her like a laser beam. “Do you see children in your future?”

  “I, uh…” Cassie swallows hard. “I’m not sure…”

  “Joel wants kids,” Lydia says. “That’s for sure. Lots of ‘em.”

  Anna smiles. “Oh, yes. I would have thought he’d have a few by now.”

  Cassie’s brain is spinning. If Joel wants kids so badly, why didn’t he marry Francesca and have some? Did she not want kids? Is that what broke them up? Why won’t Joel ever talk about her?

  “Anyway.” Lydia waves her hand. “You have plenty of time to decide. You’re so young.” She narrows her eyes. “How old are you, anyway? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Twenty… seven.” It’s not entirely a lie. Her birthday is in… well, nine months. Right around the corner.

  But there was no point in lying. Lydia laughs and exchanges looks with Anna. God, she’s not that young. It’s not like she’s sixteen, for crying out loud.

  Cassie glances over at the line for food, willing it to move faster. “I wonder what’s taking so long…” She forces a smile. “I could have cooked my own hotdogs by now.”

  Lydia arches an eyebrow. “Oh, do you cook?”

  The answer to that is a hard no. Cassie cooks, but only stuff that comes out of a box. “Not… really.”

  Lydia lets out a sigh. “I’d kill for one of Francesca’s meatballs right now.”

  Cassie thinks back to her first date with Joel, when he’d reacted so strangely to her request for Italian food. Maybe that was why. “Oh, she… cooked a lot?”

  Lydia gives her a look of disbelief. “You have to when you own a restaurant, don’t you?”

  Francesca owns a restaurant?

  The question pops up on Cassie’s lips, unbidden: “Where is the restaurant?”

  Lydia and Anna exchange looks. Immediately, Cassie wishes she could take back the question. She doesn’t need to know where Francesca works. It’s better if she doesn’t.

  But at the same time, she’s dying for some details about the wonderful Francesca. And Joel won’t say a word about her.

  “It’s in the Village,” Anna says. She glances at Lydia. “It’s called Angela’s Ristorante.”

  “The food is incredible,” Lydia says. “I’ve been to Italy three times, so I can tell you how authentic it is. It’s like being transported to a restaurant in Naples.”

  Lydia’s been to Italy three times? Cassie’s only left the country once. And that was to go to Canada.

  She wonders how many times the wonderful Francesca has traveled out of the country. Or maybe she doesn’t want to know.

  Angela’s Ristorante. Cassie imagines checkered tablecloths and a candle on every table. She imagines a leather menu written in elaborate script. Dishes with Italian names that the waiters must translate for the customers. A list of specials that changes every night.

  “Of course,” Lydia adds, “Angela’s Ristorante isn’t the same anymore, now that—”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Joel is suddenly standing over them, balancing two hot dogs, a hamburger, and a soft drink in his arms. There’s a smile on his lips that doesn’t touch his eyes. It’s clear he knows exactly what they were talking about, and he’s not thrilled about them gossiping about his ex-girlfriend.

  “Nothing,” Lydia says vaguely. “Just getting to know your lovely new girlfriend, Joel. Nothing more.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he says, lowering the food onto the table.

  Cassie looks down at the plump hot dog in a bun in front of her and her stomach churns. Her appetite is gone. She’ll have to force herself to take a bite.

  “I told them to keep the hotdog separate from Violet’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Joel says. “So it’s safe for you to eat.”

  “You’ve got a peanut allergy?” Pete asks as he slides in next to Violet.

  Before Cassie can answer, Joel says, “Yeah, she does. And when I asked to see her epi-pen a few weeks ago, she couldn’t find it.”

  P
ete winces. “Ouch.”

  Cassie feels her cheeks burn. When Joel asked to see her pen a couple of weeks ago, she was mortified to discover it wasn’t in her purse. She must have taken it out at some point and forgotten to replace it. He nagged her until she called her doctor to get a replacement pen. She didn’t even tell him the part where when she found out how much the pen would cost, she almost left the drug store without it.

  “You’ve got the new one, right?” he asks her.

  “I do,” she says defensively. And even though he doesn’t ask, she rifles through her purse until her fingers close around the syringe. She pulls it out and holds it triumphantly in the air. “Here it is.”

  But when she looks up, she sees the judgment in the faces of Joel’s friends. Lydia especially is shaking her head like she can’t believe anyone with a life-threatening peanut allergy would be so dumb as to not carry around their epi-pen. And yes, it was dumb. But Joel didn’t have to bring it up in front of his friends. I’m sure they were all thinking that the perfect Francesca would never have done anything so stupid.

  Cassie feels almost painfully stifled by the presence of Joel’s friends. She wishes she could leave. But if she took off suddenly, that wouldn’t make them like her better. She has no choice but to stick it out.

  Hang in there. This will be over soon. Eventually, the sun will go down and the zoo will close.

  She’s desperate to talk to Joel, but she doesn’t manage to get him alone until after lunch. They’re headed to the monkey exhibit, and she grabs him by the arm to hold him back. Everyone else heads inside, while they stay behind.

  Finally—alone.

  “Joel,” Cassie says. “I think… I’m going to head out.”

  His eyes fly open. “What? Why? I thought we were having fun.”

  “I’m just… I’m not feeling great.”

  His brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head.

  He looks to the monkey exhibit then back at her. “Was Lydia giving you a hard time?”

  He figured it out. He must know Lydia very well.

  “Do I really look just like Francesca?” she blurts out.

  He sucks in a breath. “Christ, no! Not at all. I mean, yes, you both have dark hair and eyes, but… that’s like eighty percent of the women in the city.”

  Cassie isn’t sure if she believes him. After all, Violet thought she looked like Francesca. Little kids are brutally honest. “Do you have a picture of Francesca?”

  “Are you asking me if I carry around a photo of my ex-girlfriend?” He snorts. “The answer is no. I don’t have a picture of Francesca. Lydia might have one.” He rolls his eyes. “The two of them used to take a lot of selfies.”

  She can’t imagine going up to Lydia and asking to see a photo of Joel’s ex-girlfriend. But there must be a way to see what Francesca looks like. Especially now that she knows where Francesca works…

  No. She shouldn’t go to the restaurant. That’s surely a mistake.

  “Also,” Cassie adds, “Lydia was telling me how much you want kids… and… well, it freaked me out a little.”

  Joel starts choking. He coughs for a good minute, despite not being in the middle of consuming any food or drink. “Jesus. She said that?”

  She nods.

  “Cassie.” He shakes his head. “We’ve been going out for one month. I’m sure as hell not thinking about kids.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Someday? Well, yes. I’d like kids someday. But I promise you, it’s not at the forefront of my mind when I’m spending time with you.”

  He reaches out to take her hand, and she allows him to take it. The anger and anxiety she’d been feeling minutes earlier slips away. He’s right—he’s never mentioned kids before or made her feel pressured in any way.

  “Now,” he says, “can we please go see the monkeys?”

  She nods. She’s going to do her best to enjoy the day and make the best possible impression on Joe’s friends. She’s not going to think about Francesca anymore, that’s for sure.

  Chapter 14: The Ex

  It’s a beautiful day today.

  It could be the last beautiful day of the fall, and I’m taking advantage of it to spend the day outside. Central Park is lovely this time of year, and even if I don’t have an apartment overlooking the park, it’s even better to be inside the park. Just taking a walk through the many winding paths is a refreshing experience. It’s almost cathartic. Every breath I take feels like I’m expelling toxins from my soul.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I’m here because Joel is here.

  I’ve been seeing his avatar hovering in the vicinity of the park a lot lately. The fall is winding down, so he and Olive must be taking advantage of the last of the good weather before the depths of winter set in. Two weeks ago, his avatar was in the exact area where a folk music festival was being held. Last weekend, I saw him hovering over the jagged square marked off for the Central Park Zoo. And today he’s here again.

  It’s easy to follow him around the park. It’s a big, open expanse of space, but with lots of trees and shrubbery that I can quickly leap behind if need be. I’m getting quite good at tailing him—maybe I can get a job as a private detective.

  I don’t know why I’m doing this. Why am I torturing myself by watching Joel with Olive, and analyzing how much he likes her? Obviously, he likes her. He’s out with her all the time, even though they’ve only been dating a short period of time. They hold hands. He stares lovingly into her eyes. He has moved on. I should move on too.

  But I can’t shake the feeling that Olive isn’t right for him. She doesn’t seem like a nice person. Granted, I’ve never interacted with her, but I can tell from looking at her. We may never have met, but I know a lot about her. I’ve watched her business—seen how she treats her customers. I’ve seen her go home to an apartment that must cost far more than she can afford. There’s something not right about this girl. Call it gut instinct.

  He’s making a mistake. She’s not going to make him happy. Not like I could have.

  Today I don’t have to watch him with Olive. He’s out with the boys. They’re tossing around a football in a field, laughing when a throw goes too short or someone fumbles an easy catch. He’s with two of his friends—Pete and another man I don’t recognize. They’re having a good time. I remember when he used to come home from a day out with his friends, looking flushed and happy.

  My phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out and see Nonna’s name on the screen. I hesitate for a moment, because I have a bad feeling she’s going to yell at me. But I also worry she’s calling because she fell and is injured—she’s very old, after all. In the end, I take the call.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Where are you?” Nonna demands to know. Well, she clearly isn’t sprawled out in our apartment with a broken hip.

  “I’m… taking a stroll in the city.”

  “No!” she snaps. “You are following that boy, Jo-el!”

  Damn. How does she know that? “I’m not following Joel.”

  “If you want a date,” she says, “my friend Tina from book club told me about her son, Antonio…”

  “Nonna…”

  “He’s a very important man! Tina says all these club owners pay him for protection.”

  I frown at the phone. “Are you saying… he’s a mobster?”

  Nonna is quiet on the other line. “Oh. Do you think that’s what that means?”

  Oh my God. “Look, I have to go.”

  “Patatina.” Her tone softens. “You are so beautiful. Stop doing this to yourself.”

  “I’m just taking a walk, Nonna.”

  “Fine. In that case, you bring home a cannoli. You want to follow that fool around town, you have to bring home a cannoli.”

  “Okay.” It’s a small price to pay.

  While Joel and his friends are taking a break, the man I don’t recognize wanders over to the hot dog cart. I thought I knew all of Joel’s friends, but I’ve definitely
never seen this man before. He has dark hair and eyes like mine and similar coloring to my own, but I don’t think he’s Italian like me—I can spot a fellow paisano a mile away. Maybe Greek? Before I can stop myself, I’ve wandered to the hot dog cart and gotten in line behind the man, trying to get a closer look.

  “Mustard only,” the man is telling the hot dog vendor. That’s how I like my hot dogs too. “And a bottle of water.”

  The vendor prepares the hot dog, and the smell of it makes my stomach churn. I skipped lunch today. I’ve been skipping a lot of meals lately. Even when I cook up a storm, I can’t eat any of it. But at least Nonna is putting on some weight. She was too skinny before.

  “That’ll be ten dollars,” the vendor tells Joel’s friend.

  His eyes widen, as they should. Ten dollars for a hot dog and water? “Ten dollars?”

  The vendor nods.

  Joel’s friend looks at the cart, searching for a price that isn’t there. “That seems like… a lot.”

  The vendor shrugs. “That is the price, my friend.”

  This guy is clearly not a native New Yorker, because instead of calling the vendor on his bullshit, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a ten-dollar bill. He is going to pay ten dollars for a hot dog and water. I can watch no more.

  “You are not paying ten dollars for a hot dog and water!” I speak up. I address the hot dog vendor, my arms folded across my chest. “Four dollars. That’s fair.”

  The vendor narrows his eyes at me. “Five dollars.”

  “Four dollars.” I square my shoulders. “Four dollars or else I report you for not having prices displayed on your cart.”

  The vendor looks at me like he wants to wrap his fingers around my neck and strangle me. But he knows I’m right. “Four dollars,” he says grudgingly to the man.

  The man is looking at me now, a smile playing on his face. Up close, he is much more attractive than he was from across the field. There’s a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. “And I’ll pay for whatever this young lady wants,” he adds.