Page 246 of My Rules

“I’ve spent the last year healing my demons.”

“Demons.” He smirks sarcastically. “Is that what we’re calling them now?”

“Look. You don’t need to be a dick. I came to apologize and to tell you that you are free to move home. I’m leaving the street, and you won’t have to see me again.”

“Good.”

“Good,” I reply.

Ugh . . . still a smart-ass.

“Are you seeing anyone?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he replies flatly.

“Here you are.” The waiter puts the two margaritas down in front of us.

“Thanks.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” he replies as he picks up his cocktail.

“Yeah,” I lie.

Animosity bounces between us.

“Who?” he asks.

“No one special.”

He nods and clinks his glass with mine. We take a sip as we stare at each other.

“You look good.” I smile. “New York suits you.”

“Thanks.” He sips his drink. “I’d tell you that you look good, but you already know that. Did you wear my favorite dress on purpose?”

I smile. “Maybe.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I miss you.”

“And you think, what ... you can just swan in here a year later in a red dress and click your fingers and everything is going to be okay?”

“No.”

“What did you think?”

“I wanted to tell you about my divorce face to face.”

“Why?”

“I needed to see if it was still there between us.”

“And is it?”

“You tell me.”

The air crackles between us like a sonic boom.

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