Page 32 of The Feud

A malicious smile splits his face as he tugs on Madeleine’s hand and nods my way.

Madeleine doesn’t look happy to see me, but George pulls her along, drawing up right next to my barstool.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“None of your business, George. I stopped being your business when we divorced.”

His face flushes red. He doesn’t like anybody battling against him and takes great offense that I would dare do so.

He sneers. “It’s pathetic, you sitting here all alone at this bar drinking, perhaps waiting for somebody to come sweep you off your feet.”

I want to snap back a retort, but frankly that hurts a little and I’m embarrassed. I almost slide off my stool, intent on hiding in the bathroom until they leave, when a deep male voice says from behind me, “She’s not alone.”

Ethan Blackburn.

I knew it was him before I even twisted my neck to glance over my shoulder to watch him settle onto the adjacent stool. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, loud enough for George and Madeleine to hear.

He doesn’t do anything overt to make it look like he’s here on a date with me or that we’re even here as friends. He reaches across me to hold out his hand to George. “Ethan Blackburn.”

George reluctantly shakes Ethan’s hand, appraising him, who is not only younger but a million times more handsome. As George got older, his jowls sagged and his belly grew. “Dr. George Foyette.”

Ethan looks at me in question as he ends the handshake.

“My ex-husband,” I explain and then nod toward the blond at George’s side. “This is his new wife Madeleine. He was cheating with her during our marriage and she got pregnant.”

Ethan doesn’t spare George or Madeleine another glance but instead bumps his shoulder against mine and says loudly enough for them to hear, “Looks like you got the better end of that deal.”

I can’t help but laugh. Ethan’s implying that not only did I get the better deal in losing a whole husband but also that I’m here with him, and anybody stacking the two men against each other would know that Ethan is the way better choice, based on looks and presence alone.

George’s mouth flattens in disapproval and I smile back at him. “Have a good evening.”

Without another word, George pulls his young wife away and they melt farther into the bar area. I watch them leave, the joy at stunning him speechless quickly diminishing and replaced with embarrassment.

I swivel on the stool to face Ethan. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

He grins, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Quite the contrary, I enjoyed you putting him in his place. He looks like an absolute douche.”

“That’s one word to describe him,” I murmur before taking a hefty sip of my martini. I need to finish it and get out of here, no longer desiring a meal. I don’t want Ethan to feel beholden to keep me company and he makes me nervous all the way around in this social setting. It’s one thing to help him with Sylvie, which was all professional, but sitting at a bar next to each other? Nope. I need to leave.

“Are you meeting someone?” he asks, motioning to the bartender.

“I was supposed to meet my sister for dinner, but Carmen’s got a sore throat. I’m going to head out after I finish this drink.”

“Stay and let me buy you dinner,” he says as the bartender approaches. “It’s the least I can do for your help the other night with Sylvie.”

“It’s not necessary—”

“I know,” he cuts in over me. “But I don’t like eating alone. I was on my way back from Louisville and I’ve heard good things about this place, so I stopped in.”

I don’t buy that “I don’t like eating alone” line and suspect he’s saying that to make me more comfortable.

“Besides, it will allow me to update you on Sylvie,” he adds, the hook that he knows will keep me on my stool.

“How’s that going?” I ask, unable to help the twinge of excitement I feel because of the smile on his face. It looks like one of sincere joy.

“Surprisingly well.” The bartender steps up to Ethan. He orders a beer and then motions toward me. “Another martini for the lady and two menus.”

“Oh, I really should be going,” I say, looking at my watch.

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