Dear Future Ex-wife

“I could be the first to break the news,” she suggests. “Other news outlets would follow my lead.”

Callie has a reputation for dishing out the best gossip. Despite her nickname, she’s a damn good journalist.

“I’m sure our PR team is already working on something to save Nate’s ass.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You know where to find me.” She takes a loud sip of something and then says, “I know Nate doesn’t have a problem getting laid, but how’s your love life going out there in Cali?”

“Okay, I guess. I met this guy a few weeks ago. We’re going on our third date tonight.”

“I always thought you and Nate would end up together. You two bicker like an old married couple.”

“That’s because he drives me crazy. And no, there’s never been anything between us. Just friends and now, less than that.”

“I’ve never grown apart from Jules. It would be like cutting off my arm.”

She’s referring to her best friend, Juliet Frost, who writes a column at Market House called The Date Diva.

“Jules could give you some dating advice,” she offers. “If you need it…”

I blush at her comment. “No, that’s okay. I just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

“Your decision to move so far away was kind of—”

“Unexpected,” I finish.

“You could say that. It was like you couldn’t wait to get away from all of us.”

“Just Nate.”

“You never told us what happened with Nate.”

“We grew apart,” I confess, which is the truth. “You know what Nate was like in high school. Mr. Popular, with all of his popular friends. He didn’t have time for me anymore.”

She sighs. “Same answer every time. One day, I’ll get the real story out of you.”

I shake my head and laugh. “That is the real story.”

A loud noise in the background forces me to move the phone away from my ear. Several voices are talking over each other, and then Callie says, “Let me know what you want me to write about you-know-who, okay?”

“You-know-who? Since when did Nate become Voldemort? You can say his name.”

A loud cackle pierces my eardrum. “And this is why I miss you, babe. Anyways, I have to go. News to find. Gossip to share. Love ya. Byyyeee.”

The line goes dead before I can respond.

I stare at the screen, thinking over our conversation. Why did Callie think I was the girl in the pictures? Nate would never go for a plain Jane like me. Sure, I have the same long, blonde hair and pale, freckled skin as this girl. But our similarities end there.

Still aggravated with Nate, I open a blank email and type Nathan King into the TO box, and his email address auto-fills. He deserves a scathing phone call, but I try to limit my time with Nate whenever possible.

I copy a few of the links to articles and paste them into the message field. If his dad hasn’t already murdered him, I want to be the first to congratulate him on putting the nail in the coffin of our company. I hover the mouse over the screen and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what I want to say to him. My cheeks burn from the anger surging through my veins.

Hands trembling, I change my mind and close out of the email. Instead of waiting for a delayed response, I take the faster route and open a new chat window in the QTK Messenger platform we use for internal communication. Nate invented the chat software after he graduated from MIT, and our company has used it ever since.

The green circle in the corner of the window next to his name indicates Nate is online. Perfect timing. I attach the picture of Nate in his boxers and type out a quick message.

Harley McQueen: And here I thought you went commando.

A few seconds later, a bubble appears on the screen as he types a response. I hold my breath, now regretting my decision to send that to him. Nate takes everything the wrong way. His usual retorts always involve something sexual, and I just handed him the permission he needs to act like his usual jerky self.

Nathan King: I knew you thought of me naked. Most women do.

Bastard, I mutter under my breath.

My lip quivers in anger. With my hands balled into fists on my desk, I stare out the windows that overlook Hollywood, fixing my gaze on the cars whipping down Wilshire Boulevard. I came to Southern California for the sunshine and the beach. Most of all, I wanted to leave Nate in my rearview mirror. But no amount of distance will ever be enough. We still have to work together, whether we like it or not, and one day this company will belong to both of us.

Harley McQueen: The last time I saw you naked, I wasn’t that impressed.