Her name wasn't Angie. It was Angelique Delmonico, the ex-girlfriend from hell. She wasn't alone either. With her was a camera guy – some freelancer from the looks of him.
Talk about rotten timing.
Here it was, a beautiful afternoon in mid-July, and around us, everyone seemed to be having a terrific time. Not me. And if I had my way, Angelique wouldn't be having such a great time either.
I gave her a no-nonsense look. "Let me guess. You're Angie."
"Well, that's what my friends call me." She smiled. "But you can call me Miss Delmonico."
I didn't smile back. Oh, I wanted to call her something, alright. But this was a family-friendly event, so all I did was point out the obvious. "You lied to get the appointment."
"I did not," she laughed. "Trust me, the Buckville Shopper was more than happy to get my name on an article."
When my only reply was a stony look, she said, "Nice job avoiding me, by the way."
Until now, I had been doing a nice job of avoiding her. But of course, I'd been a fool to think my luck would last.
I snuck a quick glance at the camera guy. To my infinite horror, he was already filming us.
Well, this was just terrific.
When I looked back to Angelique, she gave me a nasty smirk. "So, how's lover boy doing?"
Obviously, she meant Chase, but I refused to go there. Stiffly, I replied, "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm only taking questions about the festival."
"Perfect," she said. "So…have you and Chase ever done it on the Ferris Wheel?"
I drew back. "What kind of question is that?"
Her smile vanished, and she leaned in for the attack. "Or, do you prefer to copulate in barns?"
I sputtered, "What?"
"You know," she sneered. "Like livestock."
Embarrassingly, I knew exactly what she was talking about. And of course, it didn't help that yes, we had "copulated" in a barn. But that was only one time and nobody's business, anyway.
I snuck a quick glance around and didn't like what I saw.
It wasn't uncommon for people to stop and stare when an interview was going on, especially if cameras were involved. But this interview was attracting more attention than most, no doubt because everyone knew exactly who the so-called reporter was – and who I was, too.
Probably, the crowd was waiting for the inevitable cat-fight, or maybe a screaming match right here in the midway. But that wasn't going to happen, not if I could help it.
I told her, "That's enough. The interview's over."
"Aw come on," she said. "We're just having a little fun, that's all."
And I thought it would be fun to shove a camera up her ass, but we didn't always get what we wanted, did we? I turned to go.
She called out after me, "Do you know he's seeing someone else?"
I turned back. "What?"
"Oh come on," she laughed. "You can't think you're his one and only."
I did think that.
In fact, I knew I was his "one and only" because we'd both agreed to be exclusive. And foolish or not, I couldn’t imagine Chase sneaking around. If he wanted to move on, he'd simply tell me so. Wouldn't he?
At the thought, my heart clenched like it always did. But if Angelique thought she could rile me, she was dead wrong.
I crossed my arms. "I know what you're doing, and I'm not falling for it."
"Are you sure?" she said. "Because I've got pictures."
Now that made me pause. "Pictures?"
"Oh, yeah," she said. "You wanna see them?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
As if sensing blood in the water, Angelique prowled closer to say, "And they're recent, too."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "How recent?"
She grinned. "Honey, if these were prints, the ink would still be wet." And with that, she reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a cell phone. She tapped at the screen and then turned it in my direction.
Silently, I stared at the image in front of me. She was right about it being recent. Today, we were attending the Buckville Carrot Festival. In the image, I saw Chase standing near one of the many signs welcoming attendees to this very same event. He was hugging a petite woman with long, auburn hair. I couldn't see her face, but I could see his. It was definitely him.
What the heck?
I was still staring when Angelique pulled the phone away and said, "Oh, well. Time to move on, right?"
I wasn't sure what she meant. Did she mean it was time for me to move on from Chase? Or time for us to end the interview for good?
Either way, Angelique was full of crap. And I might have told her so, if only she hadn't already flounced off as if she'd just scored a major victory.
She hadn't. But that didn't mean I was happy.
Chase had lied to me, but not in the way she thought. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text, asking where he was.
When I received no reply, I spent the next half-hour searching for him and his companion. But I saw no sign of either one of them, which frustrated me to no end as I waded through the crowd searching face after face.
But then, out of the blue, I saw a different face, one I hadn't seen in years. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared across the distance.
Holy crap. I was looking at Bryce, the guy who'd cheated on me all those years ago.
He was standing in line for cotton candy, and he looked just the same as I remembered. His hair was thick and blonde. His body was lean and muscular. He was clean-shaven with the same sort of tan he'd sported after returning from his impromptu Florida vacation – the one he'd taken with Emory Hawthorne.
Now that was a memory I didn't need.
Seeing him now was like traveling back in a time machine
