Right up until I saw him.
I’d volunteered to do an early afternoon Starbucks run. The closest location to Kolya’s was on the ground floor of a hotel in our downtown neighborhood. I ordered everyone’s drinks on my app and did the five-minute walk to pick them up. As I entered, Justin Bieber’s “Mistletoe” came through the lobby speakers. I paused to admire the ornamented garland near the elevator banks. Things had been so hectic I’d practically forgotten Christmas was only a few days away.
But I was here for caffeine. Not to look at decorations.
I rushed through the lobby.
A flash of blue-black hair caught my eye.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
There had to be other men in Seattle with that hair color. Hundreds of thousands of people lived in the city. But not today. Even from behind, seeing only his head and shoulders peeking out above an armchair, I knew it.
He sat at a little table along the side of the lobby, the kind used for bar seating during other times of the day. And even though Starbucks was on the opposite side of the cavernous room, I felt myself drift toward Billy. Toward disaster. Like a magnet.
I couldn’t help it.
The chance to ask why. Or rail at him. I wasn’t sure.
A voice in my head screamed at me for this insanity. I’d held on to my pride this long. My dignity was the only thing I had left.
I’d never messaged him. Never let him know how much he’d hurt me.
How successfully he’d played me.
But my feet would not stop moving. Driven by the part of my brain that couldn’t resist, the part that couldn’t stop asking,what was the “I’m sorry” for?
He hadn’t seen me yet.
A beautiful woman with wavy blond hair and a megawatt smile sat across from him, talking and laughing elegantly. She wore cream-colored slacks with a blush-pink blouse. A gorgeous brown Birkin bag sat in the chair next to her.
The possibility existed that this woman was one of Billy’s colleagues. She certainly looked like someone who could work at Wallingford Capital. But there were tells in her soft features, something in the way she occasionally touched his hand as she spoke that told me they were more than coworkers. The smart thing to do would have been to turn around and walk away. After three weeks of hardening my heart against Billy, my instinct should have been to protect myself. He still hadn’t seen me, after all. No good could come from moving closer.
The woman noticed me as I approached. I imagined my expression looked determined. I felt the hardness in my eyes, but also the shakiness of my limbs. She stopped speaking as I came up along Billy’s side.
He looked up, not understanding what he saw at first. Then his eyes bulged comically, and he flailed in his seat, rising without thought to a standing position.
I’d been sure, of course, but at least a part of me was still surprised. It was Billy, but also…not. More like theAmerican Psychoversion of him. Gone were the jeans and T-shirt and messy curls. His suit fit perfectly, cut sharp and angled to give his compact frame maximum advantage. Product held his slicked-back hair firmly against his skull. The only thing the same was the enormous, expensive watch dominating his wrist, more at home flashing in the lobby lights than under the dull fluorescents of Denny’s.
“Mo?” he asked, disbelievingly, looking me up and down.
“Hey, Billy.” A part of me had been dying to open with something more like, “Hey, you fucking ghosting liar,” but it hadn’t felt right. Still, I narrowed my eyes.
“Billy?” the blond woman questioned, staring up at us.
“Um… It’s a nickname,” he stuttered.
“Really?” She eyed me with interest. “I’ve never heard anyone call you that.”
I coughed as my breath hitched.
He registered my response, quick to reassure me, “It’s a nickname. For William.”
“William.” It sounded rotten on my tongue.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, as though I’d wandered into his living room.
“Working.” I pointed at the Starbucks sign. “Coffee run.”
