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  How to Get Over Your Ex in NINETY DAYS

  JENNIFER PEEL

  Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Peel

  All rights reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader or share it through the Kindle lending feature. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy through Amazon Kindle. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To Mrs. Davis and Mr. Craft,

  Thank you for bringing the world of theater to my children. The world needs more teachers like you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Day One

  Day Two

  Day Three

  Day Four

  Day Five

  Day Six

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Day Nine

  Day Ten

  Day Eleven

  Day Twelve

  Day Fifteen

  Day Eighteen

  Day Twenty

  Day Twenty-One

  Day Twenty-Five

  Day Twenty-Six

  Day Thirty

  Day Thirty-One

  Day Thirty-Five

  Day Thirty-Six

  Day Thirty-Seven

  Day Thirty-Nine

  Day Forty

  Day Forty-Two

  Day Forty-Three

  Day Forty-Four

  Day Forty-Five

  Day Forty-Six

  Day Forty-Seven

  Day Forty-Eight

  Day Forty-Nine

  Day Fifty

  Day Fifty-One

  Day Fifty-Three

  Day Fifty-Four

  Day Fifty-Six

  Day Fifty-Eight

  Day Sixty

  Day Sixty-One

  Day Sixty-Two

  Day Sixty-Three

  Day Sixty-Four

  Day Sixty-Five

  Day Sixty-Seven

  Day Sixty-Eight

  Day Sixty-Nine

  Day Seventy

  Day Seventy-One

  Day Seventy-Four

  Day Seventy-Seven

  Day Ninety

  Day One-Hundred-Forty-Three

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Jackson Montgomery is replacing Steve Jones as Vice Principal of Riverton High School. There it was in black in white. I was so proud of my guy. Although he could have given me a heads up. A girlfriend shouldn’t have to read about her boyfriend’s promotion in the Riverton Record, but I understood why he had to keep it confidential. I had already forgiven him by phone and I was looking forward to him making it up to me when he came over for dinner later.

  He said he needed to talk to me about something important. I made a mental note to pick out my wedding dress. I mean, we had already named the four children we were going to have. Bear, Nick, Bryant, and Liliana. Jackson was a huge Alabama fan and had played football in high school, so I gave in and let him pick out the boys’ names. I was also pretty accommodating with the girl name too. Liliana was his grandma’s name and we both adored her as much as she adored me.

  I smiled when I thought of how happy Miss Liliana was going to be when she found out that Jackson had finally proposed. She had been after him to do it for months. I don’t think I had been dating Jackson two months when she told him I was the one for him. He never denied it. He would always look at me with those soft brown eyes of his, with the long-curled lashes that always seemed to have a hint of mischief in them and say, “When the time is right.”

  I wasn’t pushing him for a proposal. We had only known each other for a year and had only been dating since October. Best nine months of my life. But I wanted nothing more than to be Mrs. Jackson Montgomery. If ever two people were meant to be together, it was us.

  We’d met at a teacher in-service workshop where we role played how to deal with different disturbances in the classroom. We’d had an instant attraction. As a drama teacher, I loved role playing, and as a ham and former golden boy who had attended the high school where we taught, Jackson was all for giving it his best. He was cast as the lovesick teen boy that had a crush on his young teacher—that would be me. He wrote “hot for teacher” on his pad of paper and flashed it at me. I then had to break his heart with gentle firmness. Sometimes, for fun during the course of last year, he would walk by my classroom and flash me that note.

  I couldn’t wait to get back to my job.

  I wondered how different work would be now since he wasn’t teaching World and American History and coaching. I knew giving up his assistant football coaching position was going to be hard for him, but being in administration had always been his goal, or at least his father’s. At thirty-one he was on the younger side for the position, but no one was more qualified than him. Not only was he brilliant, but he loved the kids and they loved him, too.

  His new position probably meant we couldn’t make-out in the prop room anymore. That was going to be a bummer.

  I jumped up off the couch and checked the lemon rosemary garlic chicken and potatoes I had baking in the oven. It sure smelled good. I also peeked in the fridge at the chocolate covered strawberries I was going to let him feed me later.

  I held my stomach and hoped I would always feel that anticipation deep in the pit of my soul when I was about to see him.

  I dashed to the bathroom in my small studio apartment and did a quick check in the mirror. My light brown hair was braided romantically to the side and I had primed my lips with moisturizer. My green eyes were bright and told the story of how much I loved Jackson. I added a quick layer of mascara to my long dark lashes and a tint of color on my cheeks. One of the things I loved about Jackson was that he loved casual. I looked down at my white t-shirt and cut-off jeans. It was the perfect outfit for him. Besides, when school started the next week, I would be missing my comfortable clothes and lazy summer days.

  I was adding an extra layer of lip gloss when there was a knock on my door. I smiled. He was early. I didn’t waste any time. I rushed to the door and opened it with fervor. I didn’t squander a breath before jumping in his arms and wrapping my legs around him and kissing him like I hadn’t seen him in days. In reality, it had been less than twenty-four hours.

  I heard him laugh right before our lips met for their usual long, slow dance. He held me to him nicely and walked us in and shut the door behind us with his foot. He was talented like that—or at least well practiced. He could even unlock a door while holding me and kissing me like . . . well . . . like he meant it.

  I ran my fingers up through his perfectly styled chestnut hair as he kissed me deeper. I could taste the cinnamon gum he had just chewed.

  I loved when he pulled me tighter against him, like he wanted to evaporate any space that came between us.

  We had about made it to the couch when he released my lips abruptly. He groaned and squeezed me tighter. “You’re making this hard on me.”

  I smiled and looked into his eyes—they weren’t their playful selves. “What do you mean?”

  He kissed me softly once and leaned his forehead against mine. “We need to talk.” The way he said it was unlike him. Unlike any way he had ever spoken to me before.

  I released my legs from around him and basically slid down his tall frame.

  He took my hand and led me to my sofa. We both sat down at the same time and faced each other.

  “Congratulations,” I whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

  He ran his hand do
wn my braid, but he didn’t smile like I thought he would.

  “What’s going on?” I pulled on his tie to bring him in for another kiss.

  He barely brushed my mouth.

  Okay. I knew something was up. We took our kissing seriously. Like gold medal, first place every time. “Jackson?”

  He took up my hand and rubbed his thumb across it. Back and forth and back and forth. He emptied his lungs in a tense breath. “Dr. Walters is planning to retire in two years.” Dr. Walters was the beloved principal of Riverton High School. “The superintendent has already mentioned to me that I could be in the running, but they want someone with a doctorate.”

  “You’re totally up for the challenge. All you have is twelve hours left, and your dissertation.” He was already working on his Doctorate in Education Administration.

  “You say it like it’s not a big deal.”

  “Jackson, I say it like I believe you can do it. I know how difficult it will be.” I had barely finished my master’s the year before and that was tough enough.

  “Then I hope you’ll understand when I say that I need to quit messing around.”

  “Sure . . . I get that.” Though I couldn’t think of how he had been messing around.

  “If I want to reach the top levels of education administration in the state, I need to focus.”

  “Tell me what I can do to help. I’ll help you study, make you dinner every night, you name it.”

  He gave me a smallish sort of grin. “You’ll always be the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  I paused, not sure I heard him right. “What do you mean, had? Are you finally ready to change my title?” That’s what he meant, right?

  “Presley . . . maybe if we had met later . . .”

  I pulled my hand away from his. I did not like where this was going. For a moment I couldn’t breathe. “What are you saying?”

  “I have goals. My father has goals for me. Now is the time for me to realize those. And dating you has become a distraction.”

  I think I shook my head a dozen times trying to figure out how to make that sound not as bad as it was, but there was no getting over how terrible of a thing that was to say to me. “I’m a distraction? I thought you loved me.”

  “I do love you, but—”

  “No, Jackson. There are no buts when you love someone. Do you love me or not? Because I know that I love you.”

  He reached out to touch my cheek, but I scooted back.

  “Presley, with my new position comes new responsibilities, and the district frowns on administrators dating teachers.”

  “There isn’t a rule against it.”

  “It’s an unwritten rule.”

  “So that’s all you have to say to me?” I felt the tears forming and I was doing my best to not let them present themselves.

  “Presley, I’m sorry. Maybe we can revisit us later on down the road.”

  “You can’t put me on layaway, Jackson. You either love me like you mean it, or let me go.”

  He paused for several long seconds. He shouldn’t have had to think about it. That was my answer.

  I stood up and turned from him. The tears found their way out. I hugged myself and tried to breathe.

  “Presley.” He barely spoke above a whisper. “I don’t want it to be uncomfortable between us when school starts up. We can still be friends, right?”

  I couldn’t look at him. He sounded like he was a high school student. “No, Jackson. I can’t be friends with you.”

  I could hear him stand up. “I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m sorry to hurt you. I know you won’t believe it, but this hurts me, too. I didn’t come to this decision lightly.”

  “You’re right,” I choked out. “I don’t believe you.”

  He barely skimmed my cheek with his lips from behind before he walked out my door.

  I stood there completely stunned. How did that happen? I felt used, and like I had entered an alternate reality. I snapped out of it, momentarily, when the kitchen timer went off, letting me know his celebratory dinner was done. That’s when I lost it.

  I turned off the oven in between racking sobs, grabbed my purse and keys, and headed straight for Capri’s house. I called Jackson every name in the book—and I’m not talking about the Good Book—in my head on the way over to my best friend and fellow teacher’s house. I was blaming her, too. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have never moved here. I could have stayed in Colorado and taught school in Littleton, where my parents lived. But no, I wanted adventure. Well if you call living in Riverton, Alabama, an adventure. It had kind of felt like it, but that was all over now.

  How could he just walk away from us? The night before he’d acted like he didn’t want to leave, and he must have told me he loved me a dozen times. In light of what just happened, that made more sense. I’m sure his dad—or like everyone down here called the male parental figure, daddy—had something to do with it. They had been spending a lot of time together the past few weeks and Jackson seemed anxious. His dad was always on Jackson about making something out of his life. And I knew Jackson’s dad didn’t like me. I was too middle class for him. I didn’t come with a pedigree. My parents, Bobby and Jan Benson, were blue collar all the way and the best people I knew. My dad was an auto mechanic and my mom was a homemaker. They raised five healthy, mostly well-adjusted girls. I was lucky enough to be the baby of the family.

  His dad lived up on his high horse all alone, where all the other wealthy people in Riverton lived—in the Coves that sat above the city. The people who lived here called it their mountain. I laughed when Capri told me that. Colorado had mountains; Alabama had hills—baby hills.

  Daniel Montgomery II was a piece of work. He was the CEO for some huge high tech firm in the area. A thousand aerospace companies surrounded us, with NASA and Marshall Flight Center nearby. His dad ran one that had developed some type of material that was used in space flights to prevent lighting damage. I didn’t really understand it. All I knew was he had made a fortune and a name for himself. He expected his sons to do the same. Daniel Montgomery III, Jackson’s older brother, was already well on his way. He was a newly elected judge in the Alabama appellate courts.

  Mr. Montgomery, like I was expected to call him, was disappointed his son chose to be an educator. He felt like it was beneath him. I felt like being a teacher was a higher calling. He relented and let Jackson pursue his dream, but only with the promise that he would reach the highest level.

  How Miss Liliana had raised such a son, I would never know. I knew she loved Mr. Montgomery, but I could tell that for all of his success she was disappointed that her son hadn’t turned out to be a better human being.

  I guess it didn’t matter now. I would have nothing to do with any of their lives. Except that Jackson was going to be my boss now. I knew in his new role he would be evaluating me and I would have to get his approval for afterschool rehearsals and even the plays I would choose. This wasn’t happening. If only I hadn’t signed my contract for the year.

  The tears and the speed of my VW Beetle increased as I zoomed to Capri and David’s place. I had thought I would be joining the newlyweds in wedded bliss soon. I had even told Capri I thought Jackson was going to be popping the question tonight. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

  I pulled in front of the cute, one-story brick home in an older, well-kept part of Riverton. Capri was so thrilled when they purchased the little fixer upper and moved in last month. Jackson and I had helped them. Everything in this stupid town reminded me of him.

  I ran to their front door and pounded on it.

  Capri took her time opening it. There she stood in her smock, covered in paint. I’m sure she was working on her next masterpiece. Could she look any cuter splattered in paint with her short blonde, bobbed hair and bright blue eyes? She’d looked the same since we’d met in our freshman year of college eight years ago. At eighteen, we thought we were on top of the world. Now I felt like I was in the pit of despair. />
  She tilted her head. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  I fell into her arms, not worrying that I was staining my white cotton tee. We stood there embracing while the only thing that came out of me were sobs and more sobs. I noticed David come around the corner, look at the scene, and hightail it out of there. When the sobbing was under control, Capri led me to her colorful kitchen table that she had hand painted with gorgeous sunflowers.

  We sat down and she handed me a box of tissues. I was probably going to need the whole thing and then some. I had never felt pain like this. I physically ached from it.

  She took up my free, non-tissue holding hand. “So tell me what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.” And we had been roommates long enough to go through some breakups, but I had never been in love like this before. I thought he was the one.

  “Jackson,” I shuddered. “He broke up with me. He told me I was a distraction and he was wasting his time messing around with me.”

  Her eyes widened. “He did not.”

  I nodded my head.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t believe it either, but it’s true. We’re over and I didn’t even get a say in it.”

  “He’s a man slut.”

  I had to laugh some. We hadn’t used that phrase since junior year. I guess it was better than the “ovaries before brovaries” saying we used.

  All joking aside. “Capri, what am I going to do? I love him. I pictured myself married to him and having his children.”

  Her face lit up in one of those aha moments she always got. She jumped up and went to the tiny built-in desk in her kitchen and retrieved her laptop. She brought it back and pulled up an article she had bookmarked. “I knew this would come in handy someday.” She turned the screen toward me.

  The headline read, ‘How to Get Over Your Ex in 90 Days the Healthy Way’.

  “Why did you bookmark this? You’ve only been married for two months.”

  “I told you, I had this feeling. Now aren’t you glad I did?”

  I shrugged. I usually never put much stock into her online reading habits. She was always reading about weird polls and articles about sex and love. I mostly used to laugh at them because most were absurd, like ten things to make your man insanely jealous. I mean, who comes up with that crap?