Page 73 of The Art Of Starting Over

Devy cleared her throat, took a deep breath, picked the handset up, and placed it against her ear. For a long couple of seconds, she listened to the man she’d once loved—maybe even still loved—breathe. She knew he’d grow agitated the longer she took to say hello. The urge to make him wait bubbled. He needed to know he was no longer in charge of her.

Finally, she sighed and said, “Yeah?” It was childish, but she didn’t care. Devy wanted him to know he no longer mattered.

“Devorah?”

Who else would it be?

“Yep.” She popped thep, knowing it would irritate him. It gave her a bit of satisfaction in doing so.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Chad. Maren’s in the shower,” she said. “I can have her call you when she’s out.”

“Yes, that’s fine, but I wanted to speak with you first. She called me earlier and wants to come home for the summer.”

This was news to Devy. Maren hadn’t mentioned going to Chicago to visit her father. Devorah also hadn’t brought the subject up. The less she spoke or thought about Chad, the less depressed she felt.

“And I was thinking it would probably be best for you to return as well. You need to live here, in Chicago. Not some time-forgotten town.”

“Excuse me?”

“Things would be a lot easier for me”—Chad paused—“and Maren.”

Devorah said nothing. She would never deny her child; at least she never thought she would.

“Our daughter doesn’t like it there. Not that I can blame her. All her friends are here, as well as her home.”

This was the first time Dev had heard this. Maren hadn’t said anything about being unhappy. In fact, she was certain their daughter was thriving.

“She has friends here,” Devorah squeaked out, although she suspected her statement wouldn’t matter to Chad because her voice had failed her. She didn’t want to sound weak but suspected that was how her ex perceived her. She wasn’t weak. At least she was trying not to be.

“Don’t be difficult, Devorah. What we’re going through shouldn’t affect our daughter.”

“Yet she lost her best friend because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. Do you really expect her to play second fiddle to your mistress?”

“Ester is more than a mistress.”

“Right, I must’ve forgotten the title changes once your wife moves out.”

Chad sighed. “Devorah.”

She imagined him sitting there, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t want to bring this up, but the fact is, you’ve gone on dates when you should be focusing on our daughter. Being out, gallivanting with Hayden McKenna of all people. I thought you knew better.”

Devy saw red. She didn’t want Maren talking about her life to her father. What she did was none of Chad’s business. “Are you kidding me?”

“I never joke when it comes to our daughter, Devorah. Her happiness is everything.”

“Then you shouldn’t have shit on our marriage, Chad. What I do withmytime ismybusiness. Not yours.” She hung up and then picked the handle up and slammed it against the base three times before resting her head against the phone. Devy breathed in and out to calm herself.

“Mommy?”

“I need a moment, Maren.” Her instant reaction was to be angry with her daughter. Her nine-year-old child who had no idea how to handle adult situations or her manipulating father. Devorah felt her father’s presence in the room, and it oddly calmed her.

Devorah breathed in and out, working to slow her heart rate and curb the anger she felt. She told herself she was pissed off at Chad, not Maren. That he’d likely prodded their daughter for information. He was the one who’d fucked up. Not Devorah. Chad was the one who’d cheated, who’d destroyed their marriage.

She turned to find her daughter standing there with tears in her eyes. How much of the conversation had she overhead? Behind her, Crow stood, scowling. Was his look one of warning to her to tread carefully with Maren? Or was it a result of the one-sided conversation he’d heard?

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