“I was wondering if I could ask you something,” he said as she put his perfectly made sandwich in a bag. “Um, do you remember the name of that Italian restaurant in downtown Indy?”

“Which one?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I wanted to take Marcy to that rooftop one, but I couldn’t think of the name.”

“The one where you proposed to me?” She fought to keep her voice even.

Sam had the decency to blush. He should blush, because who would forget the name of the place where you proposed?

Forget about hitting him in the head with the baguette. She was now tempted to shove it somewhere dark and deep. Maybe that would keep him away. Because it was bad enough having to see your ex practically every day in their small town, but having to interact like this…the worst. “Google might know it,” she said, refusing to be hurt.

“Or should I take her to that other place—you know, that one that overlooks the river. With the great sunsets.”

The one where they’d celebrated her thirtieth birthday. “Sam, I think it’s kind of creepy to ask me for that kind of advice when you’re in a new relationship.”

“Well, we were friends for a long time, Tessa. And you always give such good advice.” He looked at her a little sheepishly. “I’m terrible at making these kinds of decisions.”

Tessa reached into the register and pulled out a quarter. “See this?”

“It’s a quarter.”

“Correct.” She reached out her hand and dropped it into his palm.

“How’s this going to help me?”

“You’re going to go home and flip it. That will help you decide.” She handed over his bagged loaf, even though she still felt like clubbing him with it. “Bye, Sam.”

“Thanks, Tessa.” His eyes darted around, indicating he was nervous.

She should’ve paid more attention to that shifty-eyed habit, because it probably would’ve let her know far earlier that he’d cheated on her.

Not to mention he’d been vocal about his dissatisfaction. He’d told her she wasn’t passionate. That she was hard to please, in bed and out. And he’d used those as excuses for his cheating. Which, a year later, still left her angry and hurt.

“Anything else?”

He took the sandwich and the coffee and left her the exact price, down to the fifty-three cents. Not that she wanted his tip, but his precise nitpickiness extended to…well, everything. “Thanks, Tessa. You make the best sandwiches.”

She fought not to roll her eyes. Please leave now, she thought but didn’t say. Instead she smiled.

“Seriously,” he said. “I mean it. I would never pretend with you.”

“Bye.” She opened the door and saw him out. “That’s funny, Sam,” she said to herself, finally letting out her anger as she leaned against the door. “Because I sure got good at faking it with you.”