Page 49 of Just My Ex

Navie brings over a wand with shiny strips of fabric and feathers dangling from the end. “He wants this,” she says, referring to the granddaddy of all the cats, a huge, overweight thing stationed near my legs.

As she plays and he swipes at it, I chuckle.

Quinn leans over to the shelving unit nearby and plucks off a toy. “Let’s see which one he likes better. This one has flashing lights.”

I take the wand from her and turn it on. It promptly flashes in my eye. “Oww.”

“You were in the Army and that hurt you?”

I grunt a laugh. “I’ve gotten soft since then.”

“How does your employer feel about you being here with us so spur of the moment?” she asks.

“My job is spur of the moment most of the time. Oftentimes, the Ostlins live to the beat of their own drum, and our job is to make sure that drum is as safe as we can make it.”

“My job at the university was kind of the opposite. It was scheduled and predictable, which I needed. Getting back into working full-time last year was hard but the routines of the job made it nice. And my mom’s been helping a lot, so that’s been a Godsend. And Marley babysits sometimes.” She hesitates. “Or babysat. I won’t be having her do that now.” A profound sadness lines her mouth. “But anyway, I loved the students I advised. It helped my mood to see their zest for life.”

“You’re talking like you’re twenty years older than them, Quinn.”

“Sometimes I feel twenty years older, after all that I’ve been through.”

Yeah. And I feel partly responsible for that.

I clear my throat. What do I say to that? I’ve apologized a lot today. Not that it’s a problem. I need to apologize. But it’s never been easy for me.

Before I can formulate words that would seem even remotely adequate, she changes the subject, taking out her phone.

“Let’s come up with a menu and shopping list for the next few days.”

I open my mouth to say my favorite dish she used to make, “Pasta Primavera,” but then her phone rings and she stands and walks to the corner of the room to answer it.

I focus on playing with Navie to give her some semblance of privacy. I hate that I have to wonder if it’s a guy calling her. Nothing’s stopping her from starting to date again, which is something I’m pretty sure would take my whole lifetime to get used to. And probably even after I’m dead.

While Quinn is on the phone, Navie asks if we can get a cat.

“Hopefully someday.”

“Let’s get a dog,” she says, like that’s the most logical alternate idea.

“I’d love that. Maybe someday, Navie.”

Quinn’s phone call is brief, and after she hangs up, she’s grinning.

“Good news. That was the lawyer over Grandpa’s estate. He said the judge is giving Raymond’s contest its due diligence but has set a date for probate to end in three weeks. After that, the family can’t contest the will anymore. It will be a done deal.”

I shoot out a breath. “That’s really good to hear. It’s crazy that he’s still contesting it, even though that means if he wins, he still won’t get the money.”

Quinn’s hazel eyes narrow and she looks at the floor. “I guess he’d rather anyone else have it but me.”

I step closer to her, the urge to wrap her in a hug so strong I almost throw all caution to the wind and do it. Instead, I gently touch her elbow, the most benign place I can think of. “I’m sorry. You’ll get through this.” I glance at Navie. “We’ll all get through this.”

“Since when did you get this sunny outlook on life, huh?” She playfully pushes my shoulder.

“My therapist suggested I write down stuff I’m grateful for.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Maybe that has something to do with it.”

“Your therapist?” she asks. “When did this happen?”

“When did I start seeing a therapist? About six months ago.” I give her a look, hoping she understands that it was fearing for her safety and seeing her again that pushed me to it. “It took a couple of tries to find the right person, but I finally did. He’s a vet, former Army. He’s addressed his PTSD, fought his demons, and come out the other side, so it’s a good fit.”

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