Page 11 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Phoenix

Drew: I don’t believe what you told me. I don’t believe you don’t love me anymore.

I stare at the message that came through a few hours ago.

The knot of tension at the base of my neck tightens. If I reply, it’ll only encourage him.

I told Drew we’re over, but he shows no signs of having accepted it. I always knew he was more dependent on me, but surely, he should have begun to come to terms with it by now.

I rub at my temple. I should have told him I didn’t feel the same way when he asked to move in with me. No, I should have cut off this sham of a relationship before it even started. But I'm so used to going along with things to keep the peace… Not anymore. Not the new me.

"Phoenix, did you hear my question?"

I look up with a start.

My friend’s faces stare back at me around the table. I’m at The Fearless Kitten, a coffee shop in Primrose Hill where my friends hold their book club meeting. They’ve been begging me to join them for months, but I’ve resisted.

What with work and the situation with Drew, I’ve barely had the energy to finish my shift, come home, and fall into bed. Of course, it would help to talk through my Drew situation with them…but I haven’t felt ready.

Perhaps, meeting the walking bad decision with ocean eyes and a smirk built for trouble this morning made me feel alive again.

It reminded me I have a life outside of just the ER and my home.

I do have friends who care for me.

And they’ve been wanting to meet up with me for months. So, I accepted their invitation.

"You asked how my day was?" I turn to Zoey.

She nods.

"High-intensity, prolonged exposure to high tension situations, with intermittent periods of caffeine administration. My prognosis: survival, but barely," I deadpan.

She chuckles. "An understatement, given the black circles under your eyes and the hollowed-out cheekbones. I’d wager you’ve lost weight since I last saw you…which was—” She frowns. “More than six months ago.”

Well, duh! I've been stressed out enough about the situation at home to not eat or sleep properly, so it’s not surprising I look terrible. And damn, has it been that long since I met up with them? I’m a terrible friend.

"It’s been intense." I’m also the master of understatements.

But I don’t want to whine about my life. Really, compared to the starving millions in the world, I have it easy—not withstanding troublesome ex’s and gorgeous walking-orgasms—I mean, strangers.

I take a sip of my dirty chai latte and savor the taste of the spices. Cinnamon and star anise. It’s almost as heady as the scent of the man I treated at the ER.

It’s true; I’m not looking to date right now, not when I’m still not over my last relationship. But I’m tempted to make an exception, for him.

The two times I met that stranger, it felt like I’d been knocked off my feet. Like I’d been shot up with a cocktail of dopamine, oxytocin, and endorphins, and was spinning into the stratosphere.

It’s like nothing I’ve experienced in my life. It would get complicated with him very quickly. Which is why I told him I don’t date.

Now, I’m regretting it. I wish there were a way I could see him again.

If for no other reason than to confirm to myself that I didn’t imagine my physical reaction to him.

Besides, I'd love to know if it was a coincidence he landed in the ER just a few days after I saw him rescue that cat. Thinking about him is a distraction—one I welcome, as it takes my mind off the possibility of the ER closing.

Not to mention, I have no idea what to do about Drew not moving out of my place.

My other friend, Grace, looks at me closely. “Zoey’s right. If exhaustion were an aesthetic, you’d be the poster child."

“Thanks?” I wince. "It’s been nonstop at the hospital.” I drain the cup of tea and place it back on the table.

"That’s because you’re too busy saving the world," Zoey says in a soothing voice.

"When I’m in the ER, I’m too busy trying to survive.” I raise my shoulders. “Any altruistic notions about my chosen profession were dismissed the day I dissected my first cadaver."

There’s silence around the table. I look around their faces and stifle a chuckle. Their expressions vary from shock to horror to plain disgust.

“You do that to get a reaction from us," Harper complains.

I bat my eyelids. "Do what?"

Zoey chuckles. "I’m glad you’re back to using medical terminology in everyday conversation. You were so morose when we last spoke, I was worried you’d lost your sense of humor.”

I take in the happiness and surprise in her eyes.

"I don’t think I lost it. Not completely. It was buried for a while, under the weight of everyday life, I suppose." I manage to keep my tone light.

“So, what changed?” Grace surveys me with a shrewd look in her eyes.

Of all my friends, she’s the one who dislikes Drew the most. It doesn’t help that they haven’t met him.

I never felt serious enough about Drew to want to introduce him to my friends. But I’ve shared enough about him that they know I haven’t been happy with him for months.

“Guess I found my mojo.” I raise a shoulder.

More likely, it’s the feeling of well-being from being with my friends, combined with the leftover buzz from having run into that mystery man, which is, oddly, making me feel like I’ve been given a new lease of life.

My friends are right in saying I was lackluster the last time I saw them.

I really have been avoiding them. I knew they’d ask me about Drew, and I wasn’t ready to talk about him. But I am now.

“Also, I broke up with him.”

Silence.

Zoey and Grace exchange a knowing look.

Harper gasps, her expression softening. “Oh no, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” She reaches for my hand. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” I say, and to my surprise—it’s true. I feel it. In my bones.

“Are you through with him? Is there a chance you’ll get back together?” Grace scans my features.

“No, there’s no chance we’re getting back together.”

She blows out a breath of relief. “Good riddance, if you ask me. That man made you a shadow of yourself.”

“Grace,” Harper scolds, scandalized.

“What?” She frowns. “Life is short, and I call it like I see it.”

“No kidding,” Zoey mutters, then turns to me. “She’s blunt, but she’s not wrong. That man bled you dry.”

“Zoey!” Harper shoots her a warning look.

Grace shrugs. “Come on, Harper. Phe’s not made of glass.” She turns to me. “We all saw it. He had a sweet gig—moved into your place and coasted. Didn’t even contribute to the mortgage, did he?”

I hesitate. “I didn’t ask him to.”

“Oh, honey.” Grace leans in, her voice gentler now. “That’s the point. A real partner offers. He steps up. From everything you told me—he didn’t.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. She’s right. I let it slide. I let everything slide—because I didn’t want to start a fight. Because I felt sorry for him. Because he needed saving, and I needed to be needed. I needed him to like me. I needed his approval.

Just like I tried to do everything to gain my mother’s approval growing up.

“He knew you’d hold him up, no matter what.” Frustration laces Grace’s voice. “He took advantage of your accommodating nature.”

Zoey cuts her a glance. Enough.

Grace sighs, then her features soften. “Look, relationships are messy. But from where we stood… He made you doubt yourself. And you, Phe?” Her eyes shine. “You’re not meant to feel small in love.”

I swallow hard. A lump rises in my throat. Because she’s right.

I was shrinking.

Drew chipped away at me—inch by inch—until I believed I wasn’t good enough. For him. For anyone.

He made me think letting him go meant ending my last shot at love.

He didn’t just spot my insecurities—he played on them. And I let him.

But somewhere deep down, the part of me that still believed I deserved better finally clawed its way to the surface. Things got so bad, I couldn’t not speak up. And thank God I did.

For the first time in forever, I can breathe.

Still, hearing my friends say aloud what I’ve been too scared to admit… It stings, while at the same time, it validates my feelings. I shift in my seat, the truth of it stamped across my face.

“Oh, sweetie.” Harper squeezes my hand in both of hers. “We’re sorry you went through that. But I’m so proud of you for ending it.”

Even Harper—our resident romantic—is relieved he’s gone.

I force a laugh. “Wow. I didn’t realize it looked that bad from the outside.”

They exchange looks. Guilt flashes in Grace’s eyes.

“Maybe I should’ve said something,” she admits. “But we all agreed it was better you realize it on your own. We didn’t want to push you away.”

My gaze bounces between them. “You talked about me?”

Harper and Zoey both wince.

“We were worried,” Harper says gently.

“Especially when you kept turning down plans,” Zoey adds. “And when you didn’t want us over at your place? We knew something wasn’t right.”

“Nothing was right.” I curl my shoulders. “Not even close.”

Harper leans in, eyes searching mine. “We didn’t want to push. We just wanted you to know—we were here. Always on your side.”

“I knew that.” I half smile. “That’s, partly, why I stayed away. I knew, if I saw you, I’d crack. I’d spill everything. And that would mean I’d have to do something about it. I wasn’t ready… So, I avoided you.”

“It’s okay.” Zoey exhales. “Breaking up is brutal. Even when you know it’s the right thing.”

“Tell me about it.” I let out a laugh—it comes out bitter, brittle. “Truth is, I was just as much to blame.”

I glance at Grace, then back at them. “I chose Drew because he didn’t ask much of me. I didn’t have to open up. Didn’t have to be real with him. It was easy… Safe… And honestly, kind of lifeless.”

I swallow. It’s so difficult to say this aloud. “It wasn’t love. I knew that. And I still stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then I add, more to myself than anyone else, “I should’ve ended it a long time ago. And I probably shouldn’t have stayed away from you guys.”

“What made you decide to meet us today?” Grace fixes me with a shrewd stare.