Shame. Another word he knows now. He is ashamed of himself, for lying to Barb, about Barb. For telling the invasive species his wife was cold and self-absorbed. That she didn’t care about him anymore, didn’t want to talk to him, when he knows that he should’ve turned that knob and opened the door to the bathroom that day in the long-ago, held her close and cried with her. He knows in doing so, he could have changed the course of their lives.

That is the thought that won’t go away. He hears her crying in the bathroom as he sleeps, and when he wakes up, he is so sad.

There is something about a flower he has to tell Barb. Something important. Something that will fix things, but the flower floats away. It has to come back. He has to make it come back. He has to tell her about the flower, but LeVon makes him exercise and the bossy woman asks him to make sounds, and now he is trying, trying hard, because he has something important to say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sadie

I chose the restaurant in which I planned to dump Alexander, and I made sure it was as expensive as I could find, which was really saying something in New York City.

He was there already, handsome, charming . . . shithead.

“You look beautiful, as always,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. I gave him my cheek. The maître d’ showed us to our table, which was in a corner, because Alexander always asked for a great table. The restaurant was everything I hoped it would be—sleekly decorated, Michelin starred, quiet, with well-dressed people murmuring and drinking.

I didn’t plan on murmuring, but first, I did want to order pretty much everything on the menu. Alexander, my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, wasn’t getting out of here without bleeding money.

The waiter came over. “Hello!” I said, as was my way. “How are you tonight?”

“I’m quite well, signorina. My name is Luciano, and it is my pleasure to serve you tonight.”

“What a beautiful name,” I said. “Please tell your mom she chose well! Luciano, I’ll have the Fiorentino, please.” I pointed to the drink that cost, yes, forty-nine dollars. Only in New York, folks.

“I thought you didn’t like brandy,” Alexander said.

“I’ve grown and changed.” I smiled brightly. “What are you having, hon?” The endearment felt like poison on my lips.

“I’ll have the Dante,” he said.

“Very good, signore,” Luciano said.

“Oh, and we’ll have a bottle of Cristal with dinner, okay?” I said, smiling my sparkliest smile.

“Excellent! Which year?”

“Surprise us. It’s a special night.” I’d studied the champagne list after picking this place. The cheapest bottle of Cristal cost six hundred dollars, and the most expensive was well over a thousand.

“Babe,” Alexander said, “uh, that’s kind of expensive.”