to be one of many? If that makes any sense. I’ve always wanted to ask someone that knew him. Was he always a cheater? I hear that phrase a lot. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her chicken finger as she doused it with ketchup.
“But any guy that cheated on you is an idiot, Ash.”
I could see her smile even though she was still concentrating on covering her chicken finger with way too much ketchup.
“If it makes you feel any better, Joe sold drugs and even planted some in my friend’s locker to get him arrested.” I wondered what had happened to Felix. I hadn’t heard from him in years. “Joe was a piece of work.”
“He sold drugs? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, he put them in the cupcakes.”
Her jaw literally dropped. “You don’t think he still…” her voice died away and she shook her head. “He couldn’t be. I oversaw the production.” But she didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about it now,” I said. “If he’s still selling, it’s on his hands. Not yours.”
“You’re right. And Joe would not do well in prison. I doubt a prison commissary would sell the fancy hand moisturizer he insists on using. It costs more than my shoes.”
I laughed.
“But his hands are very soft.” She pretended to gag.
I laughed. “So why do you still wear the rings if you’re divorcing that soft-handed prick?”
Ash looked down at her left hand. “I don’t know. Because taking them off means starting over? And I’m too old to start over.”
I didn’t know how old she was. But she looked like she was still in her twenties. If she was too old to start over, then I was doomed. Not that I wanted to start over anyway.
She pulled a plate of lasagna in front of her. “Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded. I didn’t really want to talk about me. Honestly making fun of Cupcake all night sounded a lot better. I looked at the plates and grabbed some ravioli.
“I’ve been dying to know all night. And I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything. But I can’t stand it anymore. Why is your hand blue?”
I looked down at the paint on the back of my hand. And I panicked and said the first thing that popped into my head. “It’s not.”
She laughed. “Um…yes it is. It’s bright blue. Like you dipped it into a bucket of paint or something.”
I shoved a ravioli in my mouth to stall and tried not to choke on it. I took a huge gulp of water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She nodded knowingly. “Oh. I get it. Is it like…some kind of kinky sex thing?”
“What? No.” I looked at my hand. She wasn’t accusing me of being a freak and painting my dead fiancée. And she didn’t know any of my friends. This would in no way result in me being locked up in a loony bin. I wasn’t sure why my first instinct was to lie. But I didn’t need to lie to this girl. “I was painting earlier. I paint portraits.”
“You’re an artist? Wow. That’s so incredible. It’s so hard to make it in the arts these days.”
I laughed. “No. I’m not an artist. I’m the CEO of the city’s largest financial firm. Painting is a hobby.”
Her fork clattered against her plate. “Oh my God. You’re…you’re…”
I could see the moment of recognition before she even said my name. And it felt like the end of the night had come. One of the only reasons I’d put up with this crazy night was because she didn’t know who I was.
“You’re Matthew Caldwell? The CEO of MAC International?”
“Yup.” I tried to finish up my raviolis. As much as I wanted to get the hell out of this restaurant, I was still hungry.
“So you’re friends with James Hunter?” She gasped. “And Penny Hunter? I seriously idolize her. I want to be her when I grow up. I mean, she’s only a few years older than me. But she’s a redhead from Delaware. I’m so much like her and yet she married James Hunter and I married Joe Dickson. Such a different terrible life choice.”
I smiled. “So you read tabloids?”
“No. I mean, yes. I thought you looked familiar.” She threw her hand over her mouth. “Wait, your friend that set up the dating profile for you? That was Penny? Penny Penny?”