Oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening.
“Corinne wants to know if it was over...” she said woodenly. “She’s in a hurry for you to break up with me so you can—what?”
“Now, Brittney. Let’s be civil. We had a nice time together but it didn’t work out.”
“You cheated on me.” Her voice was hollow, dull with disbelief.
The folder in her hand felt impossibly foolish, conspicuous. She felt her face redden, certain everyone on the terrace knew that she was being dumped. She had gone there with a sheaf of apartment listings, prepared to merge their finances and futures and start a life with Kevin. She was going to have to walk out of here single, not on the road to happily engaged and cohabiting couplehood. What would she do with the file folder? The thought of it seemed terribly important. If she left it on the table, unwanted, wouldn’t the server or bus person look at it and think, pityingly, oh that woman had no idea? If she took it with her, should she leave it in her car as a hideous reminder, carry it into her apartment to glare at her from a counter top until she tormented herself by reviewing that perfect rooftop garden just once more?
Livid, humiliated, she felt her hands start to shake. She gripped the folder until she saw her own knuckles go white.
“It just happened, Brittney. She’s a terrific girl, lots of fun, very carefree, gorgeous. Here, I have a picture on my phone if you’d like to—”
Whack! Britt smacked him on the head with the manila folder. Startled, he gaped at her.
“There’s no call to resort to violence. I thought you were a reasonable person. I see that I’ve overestimated you.”
“Fuck you, Kevin. Although since she already has, I can’t imagine what you think Corinne wants from you besides money. It’s certainly not your incredible prowess in the sack.”
She snorted, threw the folder across the table, the pages leafing out and fluttering to the table and the deck at their feet. Appalled, he knocked over his chair and stalked out. Britt was even more embarrassed now. She had no idea where she got the temerity to whack her cheating ex with a folder and tell him off. She was the sort who suffered in silence, not the kind who stood up and threw things. She was both shocked and perversely proud of her behavior. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. It wasn’t like her at all. Not one bit. She looked around to see and, yes, everyone was looking at her. Flushing, she took a sip of her water and decided to brazen it out.
When the server came and trod on the real estate printouts, Britt shrugged. Instead of the bottle of wine she expected, the server brought a large margarita in a frosted, salty glass. Britt’s eyes widened. She wondered fleetingly if this was standard restaurant protocol...someone has a birthday, the waiters sing; someone has a public breakup, bring out the margaritas. She took a long, grateful drink, savoring the sharp lime and the burn of the tequila.
“Compliments of a gentleman at the bar,” the server said.
Britt looked to her right and saw that her entire tableau had been visible to the denizens of the bar through a window onto the terrace. She shook her head slightly and drank deeply.
Chapter 3
She raised her glass in a general toast to the bar patrons. One man gave her a mock salute, and she smiled. Setting her drink down, she stood, a little wobbly already after downing half a massive margarita on an empty stomach. She made her way to the bar and approached the man who had saluted her. She tried not to drool. He was absolutely gorgeous with a muscular body...just so damn sexy.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said.
“You looked like you could use one. Although maybe not as much as that poor bastard you beat up,” he joked.
“That poor bastard was cheating on me and picked our anniversary dinner to break the news.”
“He’s lucky that’s all you hit him with. We have a bet going, me and the bartender. What was in the folder? I said it was probably pictures of wedding cakes or something for your reception. The barkeep here swears it’s wedding dresses.”
“Apartments. We were meeting to celebrate six months together and pick out an apartment to rent.”
“Ouch,” he said, shaking his head.
“We already ordered and, jilted or not, I have two meals coming. Care to join me?”
“Absolutely. What am I eating?”
“My so-considerate ex ordered lobster because he knew I’d be stuck with the check and I guess they didn’t serve bars of actual platinum here.”
“Nice guy.”
“The very best. Do you like lobster?”
“It’s okay. I’m more of a carnivore. Your guy was a bottom feeder, I guess.”
“Well played. You can have my steak. I’ll eat Kevin’s damn lobster,” she said.
“No, I think you’ve had enough indignity without getting stuck eating his fish.”