“You do remember me, right?” I asked sharply. “Kate O’Leary. Nathan’s wife.”

“Of course I remember,” she said.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Would you like to get a drink?”

She glanced at her watch, her perfectly groomed eyebrow rising a bit in disapproval. “It’s only two o’clock.”

“You can have water,” I said. “Maybe somewhere more private. How about that bar in Tarrytown? Where all those new condos are?”

* * *

She made me wait.

The bar was new but was trying to look old, with distressed wood and reproduction light fixtures. It was fairly empty, as we were between the lunch and dinner crowds. Outside, though, it was crowded; a band played over by the marina, and there was a bounce house. Kids of all ages rode their bikes, and well-dressed couples walked along the riverfront path. Very cheerful, very Americana, very different from the bitter black hate that tarred my insides.

Finally, she came in. “Sorry about the delay. I went to the cemetery.”

The first shot across the bow.

“What can I get you ladies today?” our server asked.

“Grey Goose, straight up,” I said.

“Perrier for me with a slice of lemon, please,” Madeleine said.

We waited in silence, eyeing each other. A staring match, almost. Finally, the girl came back. “Anything to eat today?” she asked.

“Just the drinks,” Madeleine said. “We’ll need some privacy, too.” She smiled up at the girl, who nodded and scurried off. Then she looked at me, her smile dropping. “Well?”

I took a glug of my vodka, welcoming the icy burn. “Guess what I found? Your emails to my husband, telling him you never stopped loving him.”

“I never did stop,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Or you didn’t want to see him happily married to someone else and got a bug up your ass to make him miserable.”

“I’m sure he was miserable, since he was with the wrong woman.”

Wow. I had to admire her nerve.

“If you were so right, you should’ve stayed married. You could’ve had four more years with him.” You could’ve been his widow, not me.

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”

I slurped down the rest of my vodka. One didn’t confront one’s dead husband’s ex-wife without fortification, no, sir. “So why did you let him go? And for the love of God, why did you torture him with those emails after we got married?”

She took a sip of her drink and smoothed her red hair behind one ear. “He didn’t tell you about me, did he?” she asked, her voice low and smug. Yeah, smug.

“He told me quite a bit, actually.” That was a lie.

“Mmm-hmm. Did he tell you I was a foster child? That I was moved fourteen times in eighteen years? That I was abused and neglected?”

Ah, shit. Now I was going to feel sorry for her. No, no, I wasn’t. I imagined Ainsley giving me an elbow to the ribs.

“I guess you didn’t know that,” she continued. “But I didn’t let that define me. I went to college on a full scholarship. Graduate school, too. That’s where we met. And we loved each other in a way you can’t possibly imagine.”

My mouth fell open. “Wow...your ego is really healthy.”

“I’m just stating a fact. We were so happy together, so in love. Our life was perfect.”

“Except for the part where you got a divorce. Tiny detail, but one worth mentioning.”

“That was a rash decision. We were always so passionate. The fights we’d have...” She smiled fondly. “The makeup sex. Did he tell you we didn’t stop seeing each other after the divorce?”

He had not.

But the Nathan I’d known wouldn’t have cheated on me. Would he?

“Oh, yes. We saw each other regularly.” She took a sip of her water. “Right up until he met you. But I knew he still loved me.”

I unlocked my jaw. “Not quite enough, though, right? Since he married me and all.”

She gave me a pitying smile. “He was going to leave you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. We were trying to have a baby.”

“Yes, he did want children. And you’re right. I didn’t realize he’d marry someone for the sole purpose of breeding.” She gave me another once-over. “He probably should’ve chosen someone a little younger.”

“Jesus! You’re breathtakingly rude.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have a drink. Would you like another? Maybe some macaroni and cheese to soak up some of the alcohol?”

“I’d love some. Miss?” I waved to the server. “Can I have an order of macaroni and cheese? And another round?”

“Of course,” she said. “Would you like bacon or lobster with that?”

“How about both?” I beamed at her—at least the server would like me better, if not my husband. “Anything for you, Madeleine? A blade of grass to chew on?” That’s right, bitch. He told me you were a vegan. We ate meat together. Deal with it.

She rolled her eyes. The happy sounds from outside grated against my brain like a dentist’s drill.

“Do you get visits from him?” she asked, leaning forward with mock compassion. “I do. Little signs, things only he would know. Sometimes I hear him say my name.”

“Usually after a few drinks, am I right?”

“I don’t seem to be the one with the drinking problem.”

Shit. Good retort.

The girl returned with my food and refill.

I didn’t want to eat, but now it seemed like a moral imperative. Spooning up some of the gooey dish, I took a bite. It wasn’t hot enough and it didn’t taste very good, either.

“How is it?” Madeleine asked with a condescending smile.

“Delicious. Want some?”

“I don’t eat things that once had a heartbeat.”

“That’s what he said,” I mumbled around the food.

Madeleine narrowed her eyes. “Look, Kate,” she said, making my name sound like a curse. “I don’t know what I can tell you. I loved him. He loved me. Because of my difficult childhood, I didn’t think I wanted children. When I saw how desperate he was to be a father—desperate enough to date you, a stranger—I changed my mind about children. And from then on, it was just a matter of time before we got back together.”

“Riddle me this, then, Batman,” I said, the vodka loosening my tongue. “He met me. We dated. We had a blast. We had so much fun and happiness that we got married. And it was great! So yeah, he answered your pathetic emails. Politely, because he was a kind person. But he didn’t leave me. He loved me.”

“Tell yourself what you need to. I know in my heart what was true. We were...” She shook her head, the image of her and Nathan’s love too big for mere words. “He felt obligated to you. I think he felt sorry for you, honestly. So yes, he stayed. For a little while.” She gave an elegant shrug. “And then you needed another glass of wine, I heard. And now he’s dead.”

I let that sit a moment.

Then I took my bowl of mac and cheese, stood up and dumped it on her head.

She gasped and lurched back from the table. “Lunch is on me,” I said. “Well, figuratively, of course. Literally speaking, lunch is on you.”