I froze. Fucker.

“The name doesn’t ring a bell, but thanks, Rich.”

“No problem, Dani, anytime. And if you need anything, call me. I want to be sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, thanks, Rich. I’ll remember that.”

I looked at the phone resting in the charger. I reached down and picked it up and slammed it down hard. For some reason I blamed the phone for being the messenger of this bad news.

He was fucking Chloe. All that talk of being “just friends” and how “women are interesting” was just a smoke screen for his cheating. I imagined the two of them in bed, on the Donna Karan sheets I had given Dave over Christmas . . . laughing about it. Laughing about me.

I thought of Chloe’s thighs, all rubbed raw from Colin Farrell. Was that even true, or just some bullshit line Dave gave me? Maybe it was some bullshit line Chloe gave him, to get Dave thinking about her thighs.

I drifted around my apartment in a total fog, trying to figure if there could be any reasonable explanation for her car being in his driveway all night, but I came up with nothing. I sat down and stared. The light was streaming brightly through the windows and I realized how much time had passed with me moping around. Thank God it was a Sunday and I didn’t have to go to work. But I also didn’t have anyone to go to Viktor’s with for Sunday brunch. When the phone rang I almost fell off my couch.

The caller ID told me it was Dave. I wanted to let it go to voice mail and not call him back all day to punish him. I wanted him to worry, to think about me and why I wasn’t calling him back. Let him sweat. But on the fifth ring I grabbed the phone. I was going to dive into this one headfirst.

“Hello.”

“Hey, baby . . . how are you?”

“I’m fine,” I said tightly. “How are you?”

“Good. Thanks for being so understanding last night, about postponing the show and everything.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I could be so understanding with you fucking Chloe Johnson!”

I had totally busted him, and just by the gasping sound he made, I could tell he was completely taken aback.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“What do you mean, what did I do? You’re the one who has some explaining to do to me about last night.”

“I . . . uh . . . .” I could tell he was shitting his pants about now. “You obviously think you’ve got something on me—so why don’t you just let me have it?”

“I know you were with her last night! You weren’t with Isaac. You fucking lied to me about everything! On one of my biggest nights, you were with Chloe!”

“No, that wasn’t the way it was, Dani . . . please let me come over and explain . . .”