I wanted him to put his foot down and tell me he wasn’t comfortable with the idea. It’d have been the perfect excuse. But Ethan, who saw the good in everything—serial killers included, I suspected—simply nodded, grabbing another dumpling with a chopstick and tossing it into his mouth.
“Sure? I am more than sure. I’m honored to be dating someone like you. The only thing this weekend in the Hamptons is going to prove is that you”—he pointed at me with his chopsticks—“are an amazing person. Chase Black was a fool to cheat on you, and you’re still helping him out. You’re fantastic.”
I watched him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Besides, we aren’t really exclusive, are we?” He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “We haven’t even . . . you know.”
I did know.
“So”—he shrugged—“it’s not like I’m in any position . . . what I mean to say is that I’m good with it. Really.”
For some reason, his reaction had unsettled me. I wanted him to be at least a little unnerved by the prospect of my spending the weekend with my ex-boyfriend. Which was completely irrational, since I wasn’t possessive toward Ethan at all, and because he was right—he and I weren’t really exclusive.
Back in reality, Chase read my thoughts.
“Does he have a name?” He snapped me out of my reverie, his eyes still glued to the traffic jam we were approaching. It seemed like the entire world was headed to the Hamptons. A bottleneck of trucks, Priuses, and convertibles waiting in a never-ending line of vehicles.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
He tutted. “Touchy. I’d be, too, if my partner was dumb enough to send me off to a weekend in the Hamptons with someone who’d previously fucked me to three consecutive orgasms in less than twenty minutes.”
“Can you be any cockier?” I whipped my head around to scowl at him.
“Yes, but then I’d have to wear a condom.”
There had been some relief to breaking up with Chase. Six months into our relationship, I was still flustered and constantly berating myself for saying the wrong thing in his presence. My voice was always high pitched when he was around, and I filtered my words, my thoughts, to try to be the woman I thought the Chase Black would date. He felt so far out of my league that I concentrated on not making errors more than I did on getting to know him and having fun. I’d always felt less. Less attractive, less stylish, less smart. Hating him now was so much easier than trying to worm my way into his bitter heart, like I had when we were dating.
“So. His name.” Chase returned to the subject at hand.
“How is that your business?” I began to scratch at my nail polish to keep my hands from strangling him.
“It is my business who my fiancée is fucking,” he said matter-of-factly. I paused midscratch, pulling at the delicate flesh around one nail and tugging at the dead skin until it ripped.
“Fake fiancée,” I corrected.
“And a real pain in the ass.”
“Gosh, Chase, how are you single? You’re just about the most charming man I’ve ever met.”
“I choose to be single,” he fired back, smiling patronizingly. “Just like you choose to date anyone under the sun, just as long as you’re not alone.”
Ouch. Awkward silence filled the car. The banter was fine, but when we started speaking truths, that was when it got too much. Not that I did date anyone under the sun, but I was pretty sure Chase actually believed what he’d said. I decided to play along. It wasn’t like I had anything to hide. I was proud of Ethan.
“Ethan. Ethan Goodman.”
“Goodman,” Chase repeated, whistling low.
“Nice job, Chase. I didn’t know you had that word in your vocabulary. How did it taste?”
“Like two point three kids, a suffocating mortgage on a Westchester house you hate, and a midlife crisis consisting of mild alcohol abuse at forty.” His eyes were still hard on the road. “What does Ethan Goodman do for a living?”
“Doctor.” I kept it vague, feeling my cheeks heat.
“Hmm. I’m going to rule out plastic surgeon on the grounds that it is too sexy—actually, any kind of surgeon; he doesn’t seem the steady-hand type—and go with dentist.” He paused, frowning at the row of vehicles ahead of him. “No. That would actually be profitable. I changed my mind. Ethan Goodman is a pediatrician.” He swiveled his head, flashing me a smirk so sinister I physically felt it licking at