My brain is slow to register what she said, but then it does. And wham, my pulse picks up. We listen, and sure enough, there’s a fast, light rap on the front door.
“Oh my God!” I flip the covers off. “What if it’s Dom?”
I leap out of bed, then freeze. The sight of myself in the mirror is a slap of reality. Bedhead hair, pallid skin, and these sweatpants. “I can’t see him like this!”
“Quick,” Emily pulls things out of my dresser before darting into the living room, yelling, “Just a minute!”
“Help me!” I beg Callie.
“Sweetie, Cover Girl could come at you with a paint gun and it wouldn’t help.” She drags me into my bathroom and turns into the pit crew queen of hang-over desperation. In seconds, my face is washed, my hair is brushed, and she’s doused me with spray-on deodorant.
Clean yoga pants and a tank top and I’m as ready as I can be. I smooth my hands down my palms and eye the front door. With a big breath, I throw it open… and stop. It’s not Dom, not even close.
It’s Dom’s ex-wife, Lillian.
What the hell?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, gripping the doorframe for support. She looks perfect; of course she does. Lillian is rocking a pair of black capris and a flowing turquoise top that drapes off one petite shoulder. Her hair is perfectly pony-tailed, her make-up flawless, and me? I’m one step away from homeless.
“I thought it was time you and I had a little chat.” Without missing a beat, she sashays past me and into the apartment. I follow, thrown.
“If you’re here to gloat…” I stop as I realize what a mess the apartment is, my own wallowing debris taking over the couch and floor.
Lillian’s lip curls as she takes it in. “What a… charming home you have.”
There’s a snort from my bedroom door. “Seriously?” Callie glares. She folds her arms, and I half expect her to be wielding the pocket knife she keeps under her bed. Emily is beside her with the coldest look I’ve ever seen on her innocent little face. Probably the wine, but I feel a little mushy. My girls have my back and I love them for it.
Lillian ignores them and gives me a look. “Can we speak alone?”
She’s here to bring more humiliation and pain. What else would the ex-wife of my former lover want?
“I don’t think so.” With a sweep of my arm, I gesture she should leave. But she just smiles bigger, and man, I hate her.
“Very well.” She pauses. “I wanted to apologize.”
That gets me. “What for? Ruining my entire life?”
Lillian doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t know you really cared about Dom. When I saw those photos, and realized you were still with him, I thought perhaps you were playing your own game. Clearly, I was mistaken.”
Is this sympathy in her tone? It catches me off guard. She’s the enemy. She caused this mess. Why in the world would she be feeling sorry for me?
I glance at Callie and Emily and ask them for a few minutes with my eyes. They retreat into my bedroom, leaving me alone with the woman who brought my whole world crashing down.
“There’s more going on between you and Dom than I thought,” she continues.
“Past tense. He hates me. He won’t even speak to me.”
She has the grace to look a little sheepish—which surprises me again. She looks me over, her expression going back to friendly neutral. “So, what are you going to do now?”