With a bit more force than necessary, I close out my last ticket for the day. Before I can celebrate, there’s a knock on my front door. Since I’m not expecting anyone, I hesitate, staring at the door for a moment before standing. I don’t get a lot of visitors and I almost never get unexpected ones.

Noah has a key, not that he’s spent the night or the physical side of our relationship has gone past kissing yet. He has a key because my parents thought it was silly he didn’t have one. Their reasoning was more sensible than romantic. They argued it would give them piece of mind to know he could get to me if I ever needed him.

Heaven forbid the fact that I’ve only known him months and there’s no guarantee our relationship will go anywhere. After they left, he offered to give me the key back but my mom can tell if I’m lying so I made him keep it. That was over a month ago and I have no plans on asking for it back.

It can’t be Abby because she would have texted to say she was dropping by. Pushing away from my desk I hurry to the door. When I open it, it’s shock that keeps me from slamming it as soon as I see who’s standing on my doorstep.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Allen, my ex-husband asks.

Allen, the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with; the man who also traded me in for a woman more than a decade younger than me; and the man I never thought I’d see again.

Concerned that I’m not only experiencing delusions but that said delusion is talking to me I start to close the door.

“Finley,” he shouts, throwing his hand out to keep the door open.

“You are not here,” I snap.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

I blink and then blink again. He’s here; Allen is really here.

The urge to punch him right in the chin is strong. Why in the hell would he think I ever wanted to see him again?

“I don’t want to talk to you or see you,” I shout.

He rears back as if struck. What he doesn’t do is remove his hand from my door.

A car door slams. “Is there a problem here?”

Allen looks over his shoulder while I look past him to watch as Noah approaches.

“Noah.”

Allen’s head twists to look at me. “You know this man?”

Noah doesn’t give me time to answer; he pulls Allen off my doorstep.

“Unhand me,” Allen shrieks, shaking off Noah’s hold.

As soon as he’s free, Noah moves to place himself between us and ask, “Who is this guy?”

“My ex-husband,” I reply.

Noah’s eyebrows shoot up and he glares at Allen. “Why are you here?”

Allen’s face twists. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Noah’s shoulders give a slight lift and he turns, stepping into the house. He tucks me into his side, and with his gaze locked on Allen’s, he shuts the door.

I look up at him, fighting back a smile.

A second later Allen starts knocking on the door. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Finley!” He yells through the door and I find myself once again grateful for the distance between me and my neighbors.

“Do you want to talk to this guy?” Noah asks, his eyes shifting just once to the door before returning to me.

I shake my head.

He gives me a lopsided grin. “I’d ask how your day was but…” He trails off and we both chuckle lightly.

Allen knocks again. “Finley!”

I tilt my head back and stare up at my ceiling.

“Anything interesting up there?” Noah teases.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Allen continues to knock.

“Is he going to go away?”

I close my eyes. “I have no idea. I don’t know what he wants.”

“Only one way to find out,” He winks, not seeming at all bothered by Allen’s presence.

“Finley,” Allen shouts.

“Fine,” I grumble, tipping my head back down to look at the door.

Noah opens the door and before Allen can say anything, says, “You stay right there. Say what you came to say and then leave.”

Allen squints in confusion as he focuses on me. “Who is this man?”

My eyes travel over him. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen his annoyance. Over the years of our marriage it’s a look I was all too familiar with. His dark brown, so dark it looked black, hair is perfectly styled and recently trimmed. He had a standing biweekly appointment at a salon, not a barber, a salon. He was more particular about his appearance than I ever was about mine.

It would kill him to know that either all his knocking or when Noah pulled him off of my doorstep, wrinkled his button up shirt. Appearance always mattered so much more to him than it ever did to me. It wasn’t only the way I dressed or the fact that I wasn’t obsessed with makeup or getting my nails done.

He hated my job, hated that I worked from home and enjoyed it. Standing there, in a wrinkled shirt, dress slacks, and loafers, I wonder what I ever saw in him. With a start I realize his power over me is gone, that emotional poison purged from my body.

“This is my boyfriend, Noah,” I reply.

“You’re seeing someone?” He asks incredulously, a wounded expression on his face.

“Yeah, she is,” Noah mutters, draping his arm across my shoulders.

“But our divorce has only been final for—“

“Are you kidding me?” I snap, cutting him off. “You’re offended I waited for our divorce to be final to start dating? We were still married when you started dating.”

“It was a mistake.” As if belittling and then cheating on your wife of ten years was no big deal.

“A mistake?” I whisper.

“I want you back,” he replies.

He said he wanted me back. There was a time I would have jumped at the opportunity to reconcile. I thought the breakup of our marriage was my fault, that I somehow drove him away.

Noah stiffens beside me.

“What?” I ask.

“I’ve come to win—“ he starts.

“She heard you,” Noah snaps.

“I just didn’t believe you,” I add.

Never in a million years would I ever have imagined I’d see Allen and Noah together. The side-by-side comparison does no favors for Allen. It’s hard to remember what attracted me to him in the first place. There’s a hardness to his face I never noticed before, as if his mouth was always ready to deliver some criticism and froze that way.

Allen tilts his head to the side. “Why is it so hard to believe?”

That question surprises me. At this point, looking back on our marriage, it’s harder to believe he loved me at all. Nothing I ever did was right or good enough for him.

“You don’t even like me,” I reply.

“I love you,” he scoffs.

“You have no idea what love is,” I argue. “If you did, you would understand.”

“Was there anything else you needed to say?” Noah asks.

Allen glares at him.

Noah looks at me and repeats his question, ignoring Allen. “Was there anything you needed to say to him?”

Since our divorce was finalized I’ve probably imagined a million different things I’d say to him. In my head I’d ask him what I did wrong, or why he couldn’t love me the way I was. Staring at him, I know even if I ask those questions nothing he could say would ever make me trust him again. More importantly, I no longer care.

My gaze moves to Allen. “I never want to see you again.”

“Finley,” he argues but he doesn’t get far.

“You heard the lady,” Noah mutters, before shutting the door in his face.

Allen immediately starts knocking on the door again.

“Was he always like that?” Noah asks.

My eyes are on the door. “I never saw it before, but yes, yes he was.”

He moves in front of me, breaking my eye contact with the door and presses his lips to mine. For a brief, blissful, moment, everything else fades away, including Allen’s incessant knocking.

When Noah breaks our kiss, he says, “Babe, you rebounded up.”

“You are not a rebound,” I snap.

He grins, his smile quickly fading as Allen continues to knock. “Can I kick his ass now?”

I have no love lost for Allen but it’s been a long time since I wished him physical harm. “Is there another way we can get him to leave?”

Noah pulls his phone from his back pocket and moves his thumb over the screen before lifting it to his ear. “Hey Marc. Got time to do me a favor?”

I listen as he explains our situation and then rattles off my address to whoever is on the other end.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“A buddy of mine is a sheriff,” he replies.

My eyes widen.

He shrugs. “Marc’s a good guy. We went to high school together.”

“Will he arrest Allen?” I ask.

He smirks, shaking his head. “Only if he’s an idiot and doesn’t leave after Marc asks.”

“I can’t believe he came here,” I grumble.

“He’s figuring out he made a mistake letting you go. Too bad for him that’s not a mistake I’ll make.”

“How are you so sure?” I ask, stepping closer to him.

He frames my face with his hands, his warm gaze consuming me. “I was never expecting to meet the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen when Abby sent me here that day. You intrigued me from the start. Then you worked your way under my skin. We spend hours together everyday and our time together is always the best part of my day.”

“Really?” I breathe.

He kisses me, dropping his hands from my face to wrap his arms around me.

“You called the police?” Allen shouts.

“Sounds like Marc is here,” Noah remarks, lifting his head.

I press my lips together. He surprises me by not moving away.

“Should we go?” I ask.

He frowns, before releasing me. When he turns, he offers me his hand. Slipping my hand into his I wonder how long he’ll have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“You’re presence is not needed,” Allen argues, his back to us.

It gives me a chance to check out Noah’s friend. Marc’s name has come up more than once as we got to know each other. Noah even showed me a picture of the baby his wife just had.

“Yo Noah,” Marc greets, lifting his chin. He then directs his attention to Allen. “Sir, the owner of this property has asked you to leave. If you refuse to, I will arrest you for trespassing.”

Allen turns to me. “Trespassing? Is this truly necessary Finley?”

“It is. She told you she never wanted to see you again so yeah, since you didn’t leave and have been banging on her door and shouting.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Allen huffs.

“I want you to leave,” I say and they all look at me.

Allen takes a step toward me and both Noah and Marc jump into action. Noah shifts in front of me blocking Allen from reaching for me as Marc comes up behind him and pulls him away.

“Alright buddy. It’s time for you to leave.” As he leads Allen away, he looks over his shoulder. “Noah, you and Finley go inside.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t stay out here?” I ask.

Noah shakes his head. “Marc’s got this.”

My brows furrow as I look back to see Allen gesturing toward me. Trusting Noah, I let him guide me back inside.

As soon as the door closes behind us, I start to pace. “I cannot believe this.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Still want to kick his ass?” I joke.

That makes him smile. “I bet I could get Marc to look the other way.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

He nods, taking my hand and tugging me toward the kitchen. “Yep, I introduced him to his wife.”

“You did?” I laugh.

He nods. “She knows Abby. Marc saw them out and asked about her. I got Abby to give me a heads up the next time they went out and Marc and I just happened to show up at the same place.”

“You’re a good friend,” I reply.

He opens the fridge and pulls out a beer, opening it and passing it to me before grabbing another for himself. “Marc’s a good guy. I’m glad things worked out for them.”

I take a sip of my beer. It dawns on me then that I’d still be trying to get rid of Allen if Noah had not shown up when he had. The way Allen wouldn’t let me close the door makes me wonder if he would have forced his way inside. Just the thought of him inside this place turns my stomach.

It’s funny how much has changed.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked.

I bob my head. “Yes. Confused, but okay.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Just confused?”

I shrug.

He shakes his head. “He shows up here unexpectedly and doesn’t leave when you ask him to, that’s not normal.”

He’s right, my lips part and he cups the back of my head.

“Was he, did he—“ He pulls in a breath. “Did he ever hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. No, never.” I pause and then amend, “physically.”

I watch as his eyes slowly close, the weight of my words a blow. His chest rises and falls three times before his eyes open and he reaches for me, pulling me into a hug.

I melt into him, letting his familiar scent and hold sooth me. “Not all abuse is physical.”

He stiffens his arms squeezing me tightly before he asks. “What did he do?”

With my cheek pressed to his chest, my arms folding up between us, still holding my beer, I reply, “I never did anything right. I never looked right, said the right things, or cared about the things he thought were important. It was like he was emotionally poisoning me.”

“Finley,” he whispers, feeling in his tone.

My name on his lips is a balm. Since I’ve met Noah I’ve been nothing but myself. He likes me for me, and not what I look like on his arm at a party. He gets that I’m happier at home cuddled up on the couch watching a movie with him than I’ll ever be out at a fancy club.

He likes that I want to take care of myself and renovate this place. Even if I had tons of money I would have wanted to do the work myself. He not only gets that, he’s the same way. Not once has he tried to change me or judged me for the things that interest me. No, all he did was offer me his help.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Stay here,” Noah orders.

I ignore him and move with him toward the hallway to the front door. He stops, frowning down at me before accepting me for who I am again and offering me his hand.

It’s Marc. I peer around him and see no Allen.

“Can I come in?” Marc asks.

“Sure,” I reply and then offer, “would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of water would be great. Thanks,” he replies.

Noah shows him to the den while I get his drink and Noah’s beer.

“Noah’s been texting me pictures of all the work you two have done on this place. Seeing it in person makes it even more impressive. Don’t take it personal if I ban Brianna from coming over here. She sees this place she’ll have me knocking down walls.”

I reach across my milk crate coffee table to pass him his glass. “Thank you, and thank you for your help today.”

Reaching behind me to feel for the sofa, I slowly sit beside Noah. “What did he say to you?”

“He seems convinced you’ll take him back.”

“He’s the one who left me,” I argue, my eyes moving to Noah’s.

His arm moves around my shoulders, pulling me close. “He’s messed up in the head.”

“I haven’t even heard anything from him in months.”

“Nothing?” Marc asks. “No emails, letters, texts, or phone calls?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Did you change your telephone number when you moved?”

I shake my head again. “I didn’t”

“What about your parents? Has he been in touch with them at all?” He asks.

“I don’t think so but I can call my mom and ask,” I offer.

He nods. “You should do that now.”

My eyes widen. “Okay.”

My phone is in my purse, which is currently sitting on the kitchen countertop. I feel their eyes on my back as I walk away. Once I’m in the kitchen, with my phone to my ear, I take another drink of my beer and I listen to it ring.

“Hey honey,” my mom greets. “How’s my girl?”

“Um, Allen was just here,” I reply.

“What?” She shrieks.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Noah is here. One of his friends is a sheriff and asked if Allen has been in touch with you or dad recently.”

She doesn’t reply and I tap the outside edge of my fist onto my concrete countertop.

“Mom?”

“We didn’t want to worry you,” she cries.

“Tell me everything,” I reply and then jump when I feel Noah’s arms wrap around me from behind.

My free hand comes up to hug his arms to me as I listen to my mom.

“He started coming around after we got home. He wanted to speak to you. Was saying that he made a mistake and it was his fault you left Texas. He thought we would want his help in convincing you to move back home.”

“Mom,” I groan. “Why did you keep this from me?”

“Your father and I didn’t want you to worry. We never imagined he would come out there.”

“How did he find me?” I ask.

“I don’t know honey. Maybe he found out from your boss,” she replies.

“Can you think of anything else that he said?”

There’s another pause before she admits, “He sent your dad some emails.”

“Mom,” I sigh. “Can you please forward them to me?”

“I will honey. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you mom.”

After she echoes her love, I end the call and set my phone down.

“So, your ex has been in touch with them,” Noah remarks.

“In person, over the phone and emails,” I answer.

He kisses the top of my head. “I’d be more comfortable if you stay at my place until he’s back in Texas.”

I turn in his arms and hug him.

“Come on,” Noah encourages. “We should tell Marc what your mom said.

After relaying the conversation to Marc, I add, “I asked her to forward the emails to me.”

“I’ll grab your laptop,” Noah replies.