After I Got Married, My Ex Said He Forgave Me

Ten o'clock on a Friday night. I'd just gotten my daughter down when my phone lit up.

A name I hadn't seen in three years: Preston Kane.

Sophie, it's been three years. You've had long enough to cool off. I land at Logan tomorrow night. Come pick me up, and bring your parents. Let's set a date.

Let's do the wedding on Isla Perla. You always talked about that place.

I stared at the screen. I sent back a single question mark. Then I added: We broke up three years ago.

A voice memo came back almost instantly. He sounded exactly the same. That same unshakable certainty.

"Broke up? Says who? I never said that. You haven't dated anyone in three years. You were waiting for me, obviously. Don't worry, I'm going to marry you. As for Nina, try to be the bigger person. She's the one who took care of me in London all this time. I'm sure you two will get along fine."

I turned my phone face down on the nightstand.

——

Chapter One: Sophie

A few lines of translucent text drifted up out of thin air in front of me.

[AHHH the male lead is finally back!!]

[He's only ever loved her. Leaking the engagement news was all part of his big surprise!]

It wasn't the first time I'd seen words like these. Three years ago, sitting on the beach on Isla Perla, I finally started to understand.

I was living inside a novel. One of those he broke her heart and now he has to win her back novels. Preston was the male lead. I was the heroine, destined to be shattered by him and then chased down by him until I took him back.

Too bad nobody told the author the heroine might walk out of the story early.

I looked over at the crib. Lucy, eight months old, was sound asleep, and her eyelashes were long, just like her dad's. Her dad was away in Zurich for the week. That afternoon he'd sent me a selfie hugging a teddy bear. Missing you both.

I had a husband. I had a daughter.

What on earth would I be marrying Preston for?

I blocked him, deleted him, silenced my phone, and went to sleep.

•   *   *

At three in the morning, I woke up to someone pounding on my door.

"Sophie! Open up! If you don't open this door I'm leaving, and don't come crying to me later!"

Lucy whimpered in her crib. Gritting my teeth, I patted her back to sleep, went downstairs, and opened the door.

Preston was standing under the porch light. His suit was wrinkled and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked past my shoulder into the house, at the stroller in the living room and the teething toys scattered across the rug, and let out a short laugh.

"Wow. Without me you're down to sharing a house with roommates?"

I opened my mouth, and he held up a hand to cut me off.

"Fine. Since you waited for me for three years, I'll let all your spoiled-princess drama from back then go. But what you did to Nina, pushing her down those stairs, I can't forgive that for her. Go buy her a nice bag in the next couple of days. Call it an apology."

The stairs.

My fingers tightened on the doorknob, little by little.

Three years ago. Senior year. Nina was the scholarship student Preston had taken under his wing. Around him, she always kept her eyes down. Around me, she never bothered to hide anything. That day at the top of the library stairs, she caught my wrist and smiled at me.

Then she leaned back and threw herself down the stairs.

She lay at the bottom, sobbing. "It's not Sophie's fault. I just lost my balance."

That one line did more damage than any accusation ever could.

Preston scooped her up. The look he gave me over his shoulder, I still remember it.

"Sophie, you make me sick."

After that, whenever I walked into the dining hall, the tables around me emptied out. Someone spray-painted BITCH across my locker. I scrubbed it three times and it never came off.

And he took Nina on trips and posted about it on Instagram for three straight months. Then he moved abroad.

He never said the words we're done.

When you're an adult, nobody has to say it out loud.

"Nina's always been sweet and understanding," Preston was saying. "I'll make you my wife, but I want the two of you to keep the peace. The three of us can make this work."

A line of text drifted by overhead:

[He's so devoted, he still wants to give her the title of wife after all this!]

I almost laughed.

"Preston, it's been three years. I got married a long time ago. I have a kid."

He looked me up and down. My baggy cardigan. My unbrushed hair. My bare feet.

Then he gave me an indulgent smile.

"In all of Boston, who would dare touch Preston Kane's woman?" He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Everybody knows how your family's been doing these last couple of years. Who else is going to marry you? You should be thanking me."

He reached out to push the door open.

I slapped him.

The sound was sharp and clean. His head snapped to the side and he froze.

I used that one second to shove him back out, slam the door, and lock it.

The text overhead exploded:

[??? Did the heroine just HIT him??]

[Good! He deserved it!]

[Wait, isn't the plot supposed to go differently...]

My phone lit up in my hand.

Still the same old temper. Fine. I'll leave you alone tonight.

I'll have someone bring the engagement ring over tomorrow. Nina picked it out. She has great taste.

I didn't know your size, so I went with Nina's. Your fingers are about the same. It should fit.