The following Friday, Edward stopped beside my desk just before lunch.
“Are you busy Saturday?”
I looked up.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Why you're asking.”
He smiled.
“I was going to invite you somewhere.”
My heart gave an irritating little jump.
“Where?”
“Dinner.”
I waited.
“Just dinner?”
He nodded.
“Unless you're planning to bring the girls, in which case it becomes dinner with an interrogation panel.”
I laughed.
“They'd interrogate you.”
“I know.”
I closed the file on my desk.
“Are you asking me as my fake boyfriend?”
His smile faded slightly.
“No.”
The answer changed the air between us.
I looked at him.
He didn't move.
“Then why?”
“Because I want to take you to dinner.”
I swallowed.
“That sounds dangerously real.”
“It is.”
I looked down at my hands.
The strange thing was that I wasn't afraid.
I was nervous.
There was a difference.
“Okay.”
His smile returned.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He walked away.
I watched him until he disappeared around the corner.
Then I realized I had been holding my breath.
Saturday evening arrived too quickly.
I changed outfits three times.
The first dress felt too formal.
The second made me feel as though I were trying too hard.
The third was simple.
Dark blue.
Long sleeves.
Nothing dramatic.
When Edward arrived, he looked at me for a moment.
“You look nice.”
“Nice?”
He smiled.
“Beautiful.”
I shook my head.
“You're learning.”
“I've had a good teacher.”
We drove to a small restaurant on the other side of town.
It wasn't expensive.
It wasn't fashionable.
It was warm, quiet, and full of people talking over plates of food.
I liked it immediately.
Over dinner, we talked about work.
Then childhood.
Then our families.
Then the subjects we had avoided for years because coworkers were supposed to remain coworkers.
Edward told me about his father, who had been a mechanic and believed every problem could be fixed if you were willing to take something apart.
I told him about my mother, who still called every Sunday and asked whether I was eating enough.
We laughed.
At one point, Edward leaned back.
“You know what I find strange?”
“What?”
“We've worked together for years.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow I know more about you after one week than I did before.”
I smiled.
“Maybe we weren't paying attention.”
“Maybe.”
The restaurant door opened.
I didn't notice who walked in.
Edward did.
His expression changed.
I turned.
Max stood near the entrance.
Beside him was Claire.
They had clearly not expected to see us.
Max looked at Edward.
Then at me.
His face became unreadable.
Claire looked embarrassed.
I expected anger.
Instead, Max simply nodded.
“Veronica.”
“Max.”
He approached our table.
Edward remained seated.
Max stopped a few feet away.
“I didn't know you came here.”
“I didn't know you did either.”
He gave a faint smile.
“Apparently we have similar taste.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Hi.”
I nodded.
There was no hostility in her voice anymore.
That made the encounter stranger.
Max looked at Edward.
“So this is a real date.”
Edward answered calmly.
“Yes.”
Max looked at me.
I waited for the insult.
It didn't come.
Instead, he said, “Good.”
I blinked.
“Good?”
“You deserve one.”
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“I meant what I said before.”
I knew what he meant.
His apology.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
He and Claire walked away.
Edward waited until they were seated across the room.
“That's new.”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
I looked at Max.
Then at Edward.
“Yes.”
And I realized I meant it.
After dinner, Edward walked me to my car.
The parking lot was quiet.
“You handled that well,” he said.
“So did you.”
He smiled.
“I was terrified.”
I laughed.
“You were?”
“Absolutely.”
“You didn't look terrified.”
“I've had years of practice looking calm when I have no idea what I'm doing.”
I stepped closer.
“Edward.”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you really agree to the wedding?”
He looked at me.
“I told you.”
“No. You told me why you remembered me.”
He waited.
“But not why you cared enough to come.”
His expression softened.
“Because I liked you.”
I stared at him.
“Before the wedding?”
“Long before.”
The answer left me speechless.
“How long?”
He laughed quietly.
“Do you remember the office Christmas party two years ago?”
“Yes.”
“You wore a green dress.”
I smiled.
“I don't remember.”
“I do.”
He looked away.
“I wanted to ask you out.”
“Why didn't you?”
“You were married.”
I looked at him.
“You knew my marriage was bad?”
“I knew you were unhappy.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I didn't know.”
“I wasn't going to become another person making demands on you.”
Something inside me tightened.
“That was why you said yes?”
“Partly.”
“What was the other part?”
He looked directly at me.
“I finally had a reason to stand beside you.”
I didn't answer.
Neither of us moved.
Then he said, “But I don't want you to choose me because you're trying to prove something to Max.”
“I won't.”
“I need you to mean that.”
“I do.”
He nodded.
Then he stepped back.
“Goodnight, Veronica.”
“Goodnight.”
I watched him walk away.
For the first time in years, I was excited about what might happen next.
Not because someone else had chosen me.
Because I had started choosing for myself.
The next morning, however, Max called again.
This time his voice was different.
“Veronica, there's something you need to know.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“It concerns the divorce.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“There was something I never told you.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Max Finally Revealed What He Had Kept From Me During Our Divorce, and the Missing Detail Changed How I Remembered Everything
The Invitation Came With a Cruel Plus-One, and I Realized My Ex-Husband Still Wanted One Last Chance to Humiliate Me
Part 6 of 12
