“I can’t believe you let me eat that,” I whine, sticking my tongue out, making a gurgling sound. “Why can’t they just serve pizza and fried chicken at weddings?”
“That’s so tacky. This is the only good thing about weddings. Enjoying some fine cuisine.”
“This isn’t fine cuisine. This is expensive and stuff that people should never eat. I mean, do you even know what that orange thing was?”
Drew picks up the menu, not looking phased as he reads the selection.
“Caviar. Honestly, I can’t take you anywhere. As a girlfriend, you’ve let me down with your poor taste in food.”
“As a boyfriend, you’re a douche for letting me eat that.”
“Since your last one was a jerk, thought I’d act like one,” he shoots back.
Drew’s being a pain in the ass, and his subtle arm around my shoulder starts to annoy me. Since I haven’t laid eyes on Jess in the room yet, it isn’t necessary
to start this bullshit act. I try to shake him off but his grip is tight, and so I have no choice but to endure his stubbornness.
The quail doesn’t seem to sit right in my stomach, or perhaps it’s the nerves. I tell him I need to use the restroom which is located out in the foyer. He flashes me one of his fake smiles before saying, “Sure, baby doll. I’ll miss ya.”
Jerk.
Weaving my way through the tables and narrowly avoiding a run-in with a waiter carrying champagne glasses, I hear my name being called. I don’t need to turn around since that voice has haunted me in my sleep. It’s caused me more heartache than I would wish on my greatest enemy.
I close my eyes for a split second giving myself time to breathe. This is it, this is the moment you have thought about ever since you saw him being blown by your best friend. This speech, you’ve practiced it numerous times in your head. Word for word using the exact tone, and the exact distance you would allow your body to be near him.
Taking the deepest breath, I turn around slowly, pretending to be composed when truth be told, my body is having a nervous breakdown. Only an arm’s length away, Jess stands before me dressed in his black tux. Nothing much has changed, still with his shaved head and beard. His tats are covered, except for the ones on his neck. My eyes are drawn to what appears to be a new one, an outline of a woman’s torso.
What am I supposed to do now? Do I kiss him hello or just smile from a distance? Physical contact seems like a bad idea, so I stand still, nerves getting the better of me. Christ, there should be some guide on what to do on your first encounter with your ex. I should write a book about it or at least someone should.
He takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. “No kiss hello?”
Ignore the scent. Block your nose. Do something. Do not allow Jess’s scent to consume you or else you’re a goner.
“How have you been, Jess?” I barely croak, still attempting to hold my breath.
“Been better. And you?”
My eyes won’t focus on him because I know if they do, he will grab onto that piece of me that still loves him. At least, I think I still love him. Inside, I’m judging myself for even allowing myself to think this. He treated you like dirt. Disrespected you in the worse way possible.
“Yeah, okay, busy as usual,” I lie.
My gaze moves past him, pretending to be more interested in the people standing near us. I let out a small breath, and thankfully, I smell nothing but two awkward exes making polite conversation.
“You look good,” he adds, not without his signature smirk.
What a load of shit. I may be all dressed up, but I have gained weight since I was with him.
In my head, I’m fat.
There, I’ve admitted it.
The man who caused my binge eating is standing before me trying to tell me I look good. The memory of the moment I saw Callie on all fours in his dirty workshop invades my thoughts, and the anger rises at a fast and rapid pace. All of a sudden there are so many words I want to say, but this isn’t the right time or place. I owe it to Mia not to ruin her million-dollar wedding. Remember Gigi’s advice—be the mature person.
“Thanks, I guess. So, how do you know Mia and Troy?” I calm myself enough to carry a polite conversation.
“Troy’s my second cousin. And you?”
“Mia and I work together.”