Ex Wife's Collapse After Divorce novel Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Sophie pulled the Maserati into a public parking spot near Crestwood University.

The engine died. She hopped out, circled around, and tried to loop her arm through his as he stepped

onto the curb.

Ethan sidestepped her without a word.

Sophie didn’t flinch. Didn’t pout. She just clasped her hands behind her back and strolled ahead, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth like she’d already won something he hadn’t agreed to lose.

They walked half a block before she stopped in front of a roadside barbecue stand – plastic stools, metal tables, smoke curling up from a charcoal grill manned by a heavyset woman in an apron.

“Boss lady! Ten pork skewers, ten chicken, a plate of garlic chives, a dozen grilled oysters – oh, and a

case of beer!”

Sophie rattled off the order before Ethan had even sat down.

The owner looked up from her notepad, pen hovering. Her eyes landed on Ethan, and her face split into a

grin.

“Sophie! Haven’t seen you in ages.” She tilted her chin toward Ethan. “This your boyfriend?”

Sophie’s smile widened. She leaned back, utterly at ease. “Yep. Brand new. Brought him here so you could get a good look.”

The owner gave Ethan an approving once-over. “Not bad, not bad at all. Handsome boy. Clean-cut. You can tell he’s one of the good ones.”

“I’m not -”

Ethan’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to correct her, but a table of college kids behind them erupted into a shouting match over the bill, and the owner hurried off to deal with it.

Sophie turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“You’re not what, exactly?” Her voice was light, but the edge underneath it wasn’t. “Not a good man? Or not my boyfriend?”

Ethan looked at her flatly.

“Ethan.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on her laced fingers. “Let me remind you of the terms. You’re here to keep me company tonight. That means playing along. Smiling. Nodding. If you embarrass me in front of her “She tilted her head toward the owner’s retreating back.”- then I have absolutely no reason to tell you anything about Vivian. Are we clear?”

“Is any of this actually necessary?”

A quiet sigh. He didn’t bother arguing further.

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Sophie’s mood lifted instantly. She sat back, studying him with open amusement, her chin still resting on her hands.

“Do you remember this place?”

Ethan glanced around.

Plastic chairs with chipped paint. A hand-painted menu board. The same cracked concrete under the same string of bare bulbs. The smell of charcoal and cumin and cheap beer.

Something cold slid through his chest.

He knew this stand.

This was Vivian’s favorite spot. The place she used to drag him to at midnight when she was craving skewers. The place he’d come to alone, burning with a hundred-and-three-degree fever, because she’d texted him that she wanted barbecue and he hadn’t been able to say no.

And this was the place – three years ago – where he’d met Sophie Whitfield for the first time.

Vivian had invited him out for a late-night meal. Sophie was already there when they arrived. The three of them had sat at a table just like this one, maybe even this table, and Vivian had been laughing, relaxed, her guard down in a way she rarely allowed at home.

Then Vivian’s phone rang.

She’d glanced at the screen, and something shifted in her face – quick, almost imperceptible. She’d excused herself, taken the call, and come back two minutes later already reaching for her purse.

“Something came up at work. I have to catch a flight tonight – business trip, just a few days.”

She’d kissed his cheek, told him to finish eating, and left.

And then Sophie had leaned across the table with that same smile she was wearing right now.

“You know who called her that night? Don’t you?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Does it matter?”

“It was Damian.”

The name landed like a slap.

Ethan said nothing.

But something behind his ribs clenched – tight, involuntary, the kind of spasm that the body produces before the mind has time to build its defenses.

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