Hello, Sunshine

“We bought the ring together months ago. So there was really no need to punish you for anything. I won.”

I held Amber’s stare, Louis falling away, Julie falling away. Everything falling away except for Amber. “What did you just say?”

“We’re getting married. I won.”

Which was when it hit me. Who I was married to, and who had lost. Who had really lost as I had been rising. As I had been forgetting where I’d started. Forgetting what was important.

And all of a sudden, I knew who had hacked me. I knew who had done this.

Standing over our bed when the first tweet came in.

Selling our apartment out from under us.

Forcing me to end up in this exact moment. Having lost as much as he did.





40


I drove the two and a half hours to New York in under two hours. It would have taken even less time than that, except I had to stop twice to eat. Once for ice cream. And once for a cheeseburger. In that order. Those people who say they can’t eat when they’re upset? I ordered an extra scoop of chocolate for those people. And then in my anger I threw it against the wall.

And still, when I arrived at my old apartment in Tribeca, I was famished. Not so famished as to not be worried that when I knocked on the door Maggie would be there. Though if I had puzzled this together correctly, my husband certainly would.

So I didn’t knock. I turned the key and walked inside.

And there was Danny, sitting at the dining room table, working on a blueprint.

“Jesus!”

Danny jumped up, shocked and confused.

“What are you doing here?” he said.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said. “Though I guess I don’t have to.”

I looked around the apartment. He had gotten rid of our furniture. Refurnished. Or, probably, Maggie had. The fuzzy and frilly couch had her shabby chic name all over it.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Sunny, this is not what it looks like.”

“Really? ’Cause it looks like you set me up. It looks like you orchestrated the end of my career, and stole my home away, probably to move in with your girlfriend . . .”

He shook his head. “I knew I should’ve called you back that night,” he said. “Maggie is not living here.”

“You are, though, right? When did you start planning this, Danny? Technology certainly isn’t your strong suit. Who showed you how to send tweets on a timed schedule? Who even showed you how to tweet?”

He was incredibly calm, the way he always was, which at the moment was infuriating.

“It wasn’t tough to figure out,” he said.

I felt hot tears start pouring down my face. “I guess you were pretty motivated.”

He met my eyes. Fourteen years. “I guess I was.”

“So you found out about Ryan? And you sought revenge?”

“It wasn’t about revenge, Sunny.”

“Then what? Maggie? Was this all so you guys could be together?”

“There is nothing going on with Maggie. She is helping me redecorate, but that’s all. You should know that I would never do that.”

“How can you ask me to know anything about you anymore?”

“Maggie is dating a new guy. Simon Callahan. He owns a couple of restaurants in Brooklyn. I haven’t been going out a lot, so that night, the night you called, she said that she wasn’t leaving unless I went out with her to meet him. I had just gotten off work, so I jumped in the shower. She was being a friend. That’s it.”

I made a mental note to look him up. “That doesn’t explain why she was answering your phone.”

“She forgot her phone. She needed to reach her sister because she was supposed to head out to the Hamptons, but she stuck around to see Simon.”

That sounded like Maggie. I wasn’t sure, though. I wasn’t sure what to think of that—what to think of any of this.

“Not that I have to explain anything to you, but I would hate for you to think a woman would be the reason why. This only has to do with us. You, actually.”

I looked at him, willing myself to stop crying. And failing.

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t move any closer, either.

He shook his head. “You were so far gone for so long. There was no way to make you understand . . .”

“So you just thought you’d publicly humiliate me instead?”

He laughed. “Do you honestly think I wanted the world to know you cheated on me? You think that’s not humiliating? It was the only way to make you see what you’d become.”

“Oh, wow. You were making a sacrifice. I should be thanking you, right?”

“Sunny . . .”

“How about having a private conversation?”

“I tried a million times. And I was running out of time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Food Network. If that show hit the air, you’d have gone from a couple of million followers to twenty million. It would’ve been too late.” He paused. “I’m sorry if you hate me. It had to be done.”

“Really? Who asked you to take on the role of moral authority? Whatever I did to you, I didn’t mean to hurt you. What this is, is something else. It was cruel.”

“Was it cruel? How are you doing?”

I looked at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How are things out in Montauk? ’Cause from what I’m hearing, it’s going pretty well.”

“I’m smelling trash every night and living on my sister’s couch. No, correction, I was staying on Rain’s couch. Now I’m living with a smelly fisherman. It’s thrilling.”

“At least it’s honest.”

I was seriously considering hitting him. “What did you just say?”

“You used to value telling the truth. Over pretty much everything. Tell me you’re not a little relieved to be in that position again.”

I didn’t know how to answer him—or maybe I just didn’t want to answer him. If I admitted that it wasn’t all terrible, that I didn’t just fall apart, he’d feel like he did the right thing. Which was the last way I wanted him to feel.

“I just needed . . .” He paused. “Do you remember our first date?”

Did he really think I was in the mood for a walk down memory lane? “You’ve got to be kidding, Danny,” I said.

“No, I’ve really been trying to remember it. I know that I dragged you for an hour and a half to some fancy restaurant in downtown Portland ’cause I was trying to impress you. And I know you wanted to split the squab. I thought that was so exotic. Who orders squab? Not something you order in the Midwest.”

“It was quail.”

Laura Dave's books