When I make it to the ladies’ room, I find the stall in the back corner. My vision clouds over from the tears that have already begun to fall as I fiddle with the latch on the door. I finally secure the lock, close the toilet lid and slump on to the seat.
In the wake of him cutting me out of his life without warning, I spent month after month scraping by. While I was crying myself to sleep, he was here, moving on with someone else. The only explanation is that it must have never meant to him what it meant to me.Inever meant to him what he meant to me.
But…that can’t be it. I was there. I saw the way he looked at me. I felt his touch. I tasted his desperate lips on mine.
Knowing I can’t sit here and cry for the entire night, I compose myself. I push back the rest of my tears and let righteous indignation overtake the sadness.
I hate this feeling—betrayal. Iknowthis feeling.Connorknows I know this feeling because I told him about it. Even though the hurt magnified with every day that he didn’t call, I never imagined Connor capable of treating me the wayshedid. Maybe it isn’t exactly the same as what happened in high school, but the bones are: I let somebody in and they didn’t turn out to be who I thought they were, leaving me looking like a fool.
I have the uncharacteristic urge to punch Connor in the throat. But that would be undignified, not to mention the questions it would raise.
If he had ever told my brother about what happened between us, I’m certain Drew would have asked me about it.
As if on cue, my familiar friend,doubt, creeps back in:Why didn’t he tell anyone? Was he ashamed of himself? Of me? Was it so forgettable he never cared to mention it? Was he drunk and doesn’t remember?
I’m spiraling. And, I remind myself, I never told anyone either.
After using the restroom, I wash my hands and check that my makeup is in order and all remnants of tears are gone. Squaring my shoulders, I return to the table where our entrees have arrived.
As I sit down, Reagan leans into my ear to ask if I’m okay. I panic internally for a moment, worried that I’ve been too transparent, but she seems to accept my excuse that I simply had too much water.
Nervous energy buzzes through my veins. Thankfully, I have an enormous steak knife and a medium rare filet mignon sitting in front of me. I dig in, perhaps too aggressively, but everything bubbling under the surface of my barely contained emotions has to go somewhere.
Easy conversation continues between the three couples surrounding me. The story of Connor and Lauren’s recent visit to the Outer Banks to see his family over Christmas was especially torturous. Mom and Dad recite their entire Italy travel schedule, never mind I’ve heard it at least twice already. Drew regales the table of the Double Date Twins’ plans to attend a Cubs game in a few weeks. Connor gives a Cliffs Notes version update on his two older brothers and their families. And so it goes and goes.
I should be offended that we’re all at a dinner to celebrate me and I haven’t been included in but ten seconds of conversation. Yet, given the turn of tonight’s events, I’m not complaining.
Let’s be honest, I prefer to fly under the radar in most situations.
Just when I think I might get through dinner without uttering a single word, Lauren is the one who turns the spotlight on me. “So, Gretchen, what was your major?”
Forced to look up from my plate that I’ve been meticulously admiring for the past half hour, it’s only now that I fully see her. It hits me like a wrecking ball: she’s stunning. Her blond locks are beach-wave-curled to perfection and her blue eyes give Connor’s a run for their money. If he’s the quarterback, then she’s the head cheerleader.
I swallow down a bite of my steak and a gallon of envy. “Fashion merchandising.”
“That’s so cool! I can totally see that. Your dress with those earrings is incredible. I can tell you’ve got an eye for fashion.”
I’ve paired a warm yellow spring dress donning a soft peplum embellishment around the waist with a pair of turquoise drop earrings. The floor length dress is light and airy but still fancy enough for a restaurant like this. My earrings, though, are the best part. I’ve styled my hair into a heavy fishtail braid pulled around one side so the turquoise gems can shine. The fact that she notices and offers the compliment so sincerely makes me like her. Which, incidentally, pisses me off.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What’s your plan now? You have a job lined up?” This must be what Connor loves about her—she’s the social butterfly who never meets a stranger. My polar opposite.
“Well, we certainly hope she finds a job closer to home,” Mom interjects. “We miss having her here.”
I smile at Mom and turn back to Lauren. “I would love to be closer to home but the fashion industry is really centralized in Manhattan so…don’t be upset, Mom and Dad”—I throw them a wink and another smile—“but I plan to go back to New York.”
Mom sighs, more wistful than upset. “Kids. They never listen to their parents.”
The grin on my face lingers but falls the moment Connor’s stare finds me. I’m bound, shackled in place. Elbows on the table, one hand over the fist of the other pressed against his mouth, his eyes pierce directly into mine.
Disarmed, I look to the left and right to make sure nobody takes notice. With everybody’s attention drawn elsewhere, I find him again. This time, his gaze is soft and searching, shoulders slumped and stiff, hand white knuckling his own fist.
I know what I’m looking at—it’s indisputable.Regret.
I can’t think past the lump in my throat, but I force myself to look away.
Chapter Three
