Chapter 5

FIVE

MAEVE

Waiting was always hard, but it was infinitely more difficult when it paired with dread.

My legs bounced like the park bench belonged on a carnival ride. It didn’t. The cement seat remained completely still and rooted in place beside the tennis court.

From here, I could see the entire parking lot and anyone who approached. The bench offered the perfect private and public balance for a hitman passing off proof of a job completed and accepting a briefcase as payment. It was also the perfect balance for two women who’d simultaneously dated the same man to meet in person.

Or at least it had seemed perfect before both sets of my cheeks went numb from the cold. The thwacks of rackets against balls filled the frigid air. Sneakers squeaked on the blacktop. Children giggled on a playground past the tree line.

Did Tatianna know about me before the wedding? Did she care?

There was a high probability she’d view me as her enemy.

I hadn’t told Elliot that I’d decided to reach out to her, maybe because I still wanted a judgment-free out if I changed my mind.

Why exactly was I doing this again, when I could be at home, safely and comfortably curled up in my heated blanket and playing Gnarled Auto ?

It was the right thing to do, even if it was torture. To distract myself, I considered texting Viv. She was away, of course, and unreachable, so I texted Elliot instead.

Me: Meet up tonight?

Me: I need to know all the details of your adventure today

Elliot: I’m in. Scheme over food?

Was this a date? No, of course not a date. It was plotting and eating, totally casual. Everyone had to eat.

Also, I could pick the restaurant. Something non-romantic. Plus, I knew what rich guys could be like and there was no way I was going to let another man lord something over me by paying for a dinner I couldn’t afford.

I hadn’t gotten any of those controlling vibes from Elliot, but it was better to be safe, especially while I was still reeling from the number Bradford had done to me.

Me: Tzatziki Palace

Me: Six

Elliot: Sounds great

A car door slammed shut. My attention snapped to the parking lot.

There, I spotted a total glamazon who looked like she’d just stepped out of a photoshoot at the lodge of the world’s most exclusive ski resort. All of her clothes were white—coat, hat, boots, leggings.

No question, it was Tatianna.

I could still make a run for it. She hadn’t spotted me yet.

Then, of course, her gaze snapped directly to mine. She held her attention on me as she approached.

My escape window had closed. I was stuck, for better or worse.

Tatianna stopped by the corner of the chain link fence that surrounded the tennis court, about ten feet away. The tightness in her jaw suggested she was apprehensive.

I was sure my own expression was similar.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Maeve.”

She inhaled slowly, then held her breath.

So…no hello and no introduction. But she’d shown up, which meant she was at least curious what I had to say. “From your SocialFace account,” I said, “it looks like you’ve been dating Bradford for a year.”

“Dat ed.”

“You broke up?”

“At my best friend’s wedding, the groom’s family took turns telling me how my boyfriend was going to marry you. I was completely blindsided.”

I cringed. She hadn’t known. This sucked as much for her as it did for me.

“Yes, I dumped his cheating ass.” She took another step forward and eyed the seat beside me. “May I?”

I nodded.

She sat down beside me. “I like your shoes.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I like your whole super-put-together vibe. It’s intimidating. I was fully prepared to hate you, but if you like my shoes….”

She chuckled.

My phone dinged.

A bubble of excitement filled my chest. I peeked to see if it was Elliot again.

That bubble immediately popped. The text was from Bradford.

“You’re making a sour face.” Tatianna glanced toward the hand that not-so-stealthily hid my phone. “Is that him?”

“It is.” I pulled the phone onto my lap and opened the text so she could see, too.

Bradford: Maeve.

Bradford: I’m very disappointed that you haven’t come over to fix the TV like I told you to.

Tatianna raised a brow and looked at me.

“I broke up with him, too, but he’s pretending I didn’t,” I explained.

“He’s hopeless on his own. He doesn’t even know how to reset his router when his internet is slow. He has the technological literacy of my grandfather.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“How does that happen?” Tatianna shook her head. “He was born into a world of technology.”

“I used to wonder the same thing. But, there was always someone to do everything for him.” That someone was usually me.

“His money made him seem competent at first.”

Money, yeah. He seemed generous, which made me believe he had other good qualities. But every gift had a price. What gifts had he bought her? What fancy dinner had he taken her to on my birthday? “His money is someone else’s doing, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s his father’s. He hasn’t earned anything on his own, and I doubt he ever will. He makes bad investments with his father’s money.”

“I had no idea. Apparently there’s a lot I had no idea about.”

Like me.

“I’m surprised he manages his email and calendar on his own.” Tatianna frowned. Even when she frowned, she looked ridiculously perfect. It was unfair.

“He doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t have a secretary,” she said. “Don’t tell me his father makes his appointments for him, too.”

“No, I do. Did.”

Her jaw went slack and she openly stared at me. A teeny tiny part of me hoped a fly landed in her mouth, just so I could see her make an expression that was less than flattering. I felt guilty for thinking it.

“Bradford can check his own emails, but he’s been relying on me for years to keep track of all of his accounts and appointments,” I said. “Everything but texting.”

“Two things. One—why did you put up with him for so long?”

“I…don’t have a good answer for that.”

She nodded. “I have to say the same about myself. But the second thing…does that mean you have all of his passwords?”

“I do.”

A smile spread across her face. It wasn’t a perfect thing, either. It was dark and cruel, which made me actually want to like her.

“You have unfettered access to completely destroying his life,” she said. “You could donate all of his money to charity. He’d hate that. Tell me you’re doing that. The most I’ve been able to manage is flaming feces on his doorstep. And in his car. And at his office.”

I laughed. Okay, now I actually kinda did like her. “I haven’t done anything to his accounts.”

“Then you’re a bigger person than I am.”

Was I? I wasn’t trying to be.

“I am really sorry for being the other woman,” she said. “I didn’t know. But maybe part of me didn’t want to know. I let a lot of red flags slide that I shouldn’t have.”

“I’ve let him off the hook too many times than I can count. I don’t blame you.” Maybe I should have in part, but I didn’t. Forgiveness made me feel lighter. Carrying animosity for this woman would only hurt me.

Carrying animosity for Bradford was another story.

Maybe Tatianna was right. Maybe I should completely drop decency and set a course for complete and total destruction.

After we parted ways, I spent a lot of time going over my own mistakes and contemplating all of the red flags I had ignored. I debated what I should do with Bradford’s accounts for the rest of the day. Instead of going immediately nuclear, I settled for changing all of his passwords. This would buy me time to further weigh my options without regret.

Bradford: Maeve, answer me.

Bradford: Come over tonight. I know you’re not working.

Bradford: My phone kicked me out of email. I need to you to fix it.

Bradford: It says I need a password. Is that written down somewhere for me?

Bradford: Answer me.

Bradford: Now, Maeve.

Bradford: You’re making my eye twitch.

Bradford: It looks like someone stabbed me in the retina.

Bradford: It’s red, Maeve.

Bradford: Bloodshot.

Bradford: What if it causes a wrinkle, Maeve?

Bradford: A WRINKLE

Before I knew it, it was time for dinner with Elliot.

I arrived at the little Mediterranean joint a few minutes early and ordered. While I waited for my food at the counter, I looked around for the perfect place to sit. There was an outdoor patio closed in with glass during the winter that had views of the gardens. While there weren’t any flowers blooming, festive decorations had been placed between the leaf-bare bushes.

A few minutes later, my falafel wrap was ready.

As soon as I stepped onto the patio, I spotted Elliot sitting in the corner.

He was wearing a jacket and t-shirt, not a suit.

He smiled and waved.

A man who shows up earlier than I did? Green flag.

A man who didn’t constantly feel the need to show off his financial worth? Green flag.

He had a basket and drink sitting on the table in front of him, too, which meant he’d gone ahead and ordered. So…he probably never intended to pay for me, yet he was waiting for me to start eating. Polite and unpresumptuous—another two green flags?

There was no reason to count flags of any color. It wasn’t like I was looking to date him or anyone else for the foreseeable future.

I slipped in across the table from him and found myself staring right into those soft green eyes of his. I didn’t know how I’d mistaken them for brown before. They reminded me of aloe vera, which was maybe a strange thing to think about a person’s eyes, but I found it soothing.

He gestured toward my wrap. “Falafel. Nice.”

I glanced at his basket, and found he’d ordered a falafel wrap, too. “The obvious best choice on the menu.”

“Agreed.” He chuckled, deep and warm. “How was your day?”

“Weird. Good. I, uh, met up with Tatianna.”

His brows shot up into his forehead. “How did that go?”

“Turns out, she’s a victim, same as me.”

He nodded as he took a bite of his wrap, his attention fully on me.

It made me feel warm to have someone look at me like that, like he was enraptured by my every word. It was sad that this feeling was foreign to me.

I took a bite of my own wrap. The crisp vegetables snapped between my teeth. The tangy hummus made my tastebuds cheer.

“I kind of expected to hate her because she’s the one Bradford chose over me. And she’s so beautiful.” I didn’t need to elaborate. Elliot knew what she looked like because they were both friends with Rachel.

“You’re beautiful.” He said it casually, like he was remarking on the weather.

Heat carried up the back of my neck. “What? I’m…pretty in a normal way. Not like her and her cupid lips and sleek hair. Put us side-by-side, it’s obvious who anyone would pick.”

“No. I disagree.”

I shoved a fry in my mouth because it was that or my foot.

“You’re a different person with a different look. Armstrong’s behavior has nothing to do with you lacking anything. It’s his deficiency—moral and mental.”

That was sweet, but I hadn’t intended to fish for compliments. The last thing I wanted to do was make Elliot pity-praise me. “How did the sabotage go?”

If my change in subject threw him, he didn’t show it.

He said, “Unfortunately there wasn’t anything in the fridge for me to put the cilantro in.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

“It worked out. I put it in his cologne.”

“That fancy French stuff costs a small fortune. He’s going to be pissed.” I laughed. Apparently I was okay with a bit of destruction.

“I should hope so. Can you shed some light on something for me?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Is he secretly a robot? Even if he was a lizard person, there’d be something in his fridge, even if that something was a bag of crickets.”

“Crickets? Gross.”

“Insects are full of protein. They say crickets are the meat of the future, and a way to deal with food shortages.”

“That sounds like a good thing, but whoever said that is gross, too. If one day we find ourselves in a dystopian hellscape, and I have to eat bugs to survive, I want them tasteless and hidden in baked goods.”

“Got it. When it’s time, I’ll bake your share into apocalypse brownies.” He smiled. “And I promise not to let Vivian help.”

And there he was being cute and charming again. Not only that, he was implying some sort of future association between us. It left a warm feeling in my stomach, which was definitely best to ignore.

“To answer your question,” I said, “Bradford must be between pick-up days for his meals. He doesn’t cook. And he’s weird about other people cooking too. I should have thought of that.”

“The emergency chocolate frosting I found belongs to you?”

“Busted.”

“I hope you don’t mind me using it. If you do, I’ll buy you a new tub.”

“Putting cilantro in there won’t help anything. Bradford won’t eat it. Too many processed ingredients.”

“I didn’t put anything in it. I used it in another way—like finger paint. Want to see?”

“Yes.” I had no idea what he meant, but I definitely wanted to see.

He slid his phone across the table for me.

On the screen was an image of Bradford’s living room. There was a pair of underpants hanging from the ceiling fan. Toiletries littered the carpet. And the best part—brown smears striped the trophy cabinets.

I choked on my own spit. The laughter boiled out of me like never before.

I was embracing the spite I’d been trying to suppress.

Letting loose felt glorious.

“There’s more,” Elliot said. “Swipe right.”

The next picture was one of trophies—a big hand. I recognized it as the one that read Most Helpful. Now it read Most Likely to Help Himself.

Not bad at all. I flipped to the next.

Most Likely to Inspire Regret.

They just kept getting better and better. Of course they didn’t all play off the original plaque, as Elliot had never seen what the originals were. He didn’t need to. This was great.

Most Reliable at Making Excuses.

Then I found my favorite.

Kindergarten’s Fartest Dresser.

I laughed, fully, heartily. “You went with ‘fartest instead of fartiest’.”

“Yes, I did.” He grinned at me. “None of it is permanent. He can remove the plaques.”

I had a feeling he did that for me. “But you took pictures.” Then it hit me what had to come next. “He can’t remove the proof if I post them on his SocialFace.”

“You can do that?”

I nodded. “Send me the pics. I’ll have them slowly release over time. He won’t realize at first, until someone says something to him. They’re going to drive him completely mad. He won’t be able to take them down. It’ll be glorious.”

“You, Maeve Katz, are an evil genius. I love it.”

I loved it, too. I felt lighter than I had in forever.

I couldn’t seem to remember a single reason I’d been using restraint. Bradford deserved this.