Page 20 of Against All Odds

“Then what do you call it? Disappearing by choice?”

“We grew up and moved on. That’s what I call it.”

Miles spins his coffee cup. “Look, from what Hazel said, it’s very clear that you two are due for a conversation, where you actually lay that part of your past to rest. So let’s just say that it’s a friendly dinner—bring a bottle of wine so the two of you can be relaxed. Skip the flowers, since it’s not a date. Wine is a friendly gesture.”

I sigh, get up, and push in the chair. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Everett, in all seriousness, I was there when things fell apart. I remember how fucked up for you her disappearing was. She’s not planning to stay, so just ... you know, remember that.”

I nod once. “I know.”

I hear him loud and clear: Be careful because she’ll break your heart all over again.

“Well, no matter what, we’re all here for you.”

I huff out a breath. “Look, I’m not stupid, I have both eyes open. She’s getting divorced, here for a year, and I have a sick mother, a veterinarian clinic, an Ultimate Frisbee league, and did I mention my mother? I’m not going to get sucked into some already doomed relationship.”

Miles chuckles. “Famous last words.”

five

Violet

Istare at the screen of the phone, debating what to do. Dylan and I have only communicated through our lawyers and a couple of his text messages, which I ignored. This week I’ve been so busy with getting my lesson plans sorted, meeting all the students, and trying to get my house set up that I haven’t had time to even think about my cheating soon-to-be ex-asshat.

I’m not sure talking to him is the best idea, but I also have a feeling if he’s calling, there’s something I need to know.

Hell, it could be that he isn’t going to sign the papers and I’m going to have to allow Ana to kill him.

Tonight Everett is coming over, and I don’t want to be sitting at dinner thinking about Dylan.

I’d rather not ever think of him again, but that’s probably not going to happen.

“Hello, Dylan,” I say, answering on impulse.

“Violet.” I stay quiet, waiting for him to speak. “Right. How are you?”

I laugh once. “I’m great.”

“Good. I’m . . . glad. Truly.”

“What are you calling for?” I ask.

I’m fresh out of pleasantries. I don’t care how he is. I don’t care if he’s great. In fact, I’m just petty enough to hope that he’s miserable.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“Why?” I don’t believe him for a second.

“You are still my wife.”

Oh, that’s rich. “I have a lot of things I could say right now about me being your wife, but let’s not go there. I’m fine. Thanks for checking in. I have to go.”

“Wait!” he says quickly. “I called for another reason.”

I knew better.

“I have plans tonight so it would really be helpful if you could just tell me why you’re calling,” I say, glancing at the clock.

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