“It doesn’t seem like you’re divorced.”
“We got divorced the second he cheated on me.”
He set his mug down and kept looking at me.
I poured myself my own cup of coffee. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay.”
He was tall and handsome, reminding me of Maverick in a couple of ways. He filled out a suit well and had a nice package. He was a good kisser and a better lover. I didn’t compare him to Maverick once because I’d blocked him out of my head for good. Brandon had the prettiest green eyes and light brown hair. He was so pretty that it seemed like he would be married or have someone waiting at home for him. “Fair enough.”
“Well, last night was fun…” But now it was over, and I wanted him to leave. I’d gotten a new job as a waitress at a bar just a few blocks from my house. It wasn’t the ideal occupation, but it had flexible hours, which was exactly what I needed if I wanted to keep singing. I would never be able to afford anything more than this apartment, but that was okay with me. At least I had a car.
“It was.” He ran his fingers through his short hair, looking sexy without even trying. “I’d like to do it again.”
It was the polite exchange lovers always had the morning after. “Me too.” I stepped away and prepared to walk him to the front door.
“But I actually want to do it again.”
I stopped and turned around.
He walked around the corner and came toward me. “Let’s have dinner tomorrow night.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said with a chuckle. “My dumbass husband came to the door last night, and you want to keep seeing me?”
“Why not? I’m not scared of him.”
He should be.
“And it’s ex-husband, right?”
“Yeah…” It would take a while for me to get used to that.
He lingered in front of the door. “So?”
“I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
“I didn’t realize eating was so serious.” His arms circled my waist, and he pulled me close. “Come on, we’ll have a nice meal, share a bottle of wine…and then we’ll have hot sex. What else would you rather be doing?”
Images of my life with Maverick came back to me. We had dinner together at the same time every night. Then we went to bed, talked a bit, or watched TV. Then he took a shower, and we ground together underneath the sheets. It was so simple and domestic…but it was beautiful. I shook the thought away and focused on the new man in my life. “As long as it doesn’t get serious, I’m in.”
“Good.” He smiled then kissed me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It took me a while to get used to not wearing my ring. There were instances when I would suddenly panic because it seemed like it had fallen off my finger and hit the floor. But then I remembered I hadn’t been wearing it in the first place.
I wondered what Maverick did with it.
When he came to my apartment, he apologized for what he did. But that offer felt so meaningless. An apology didn’t change the past; it didn’t fix my broken heart. It didn’t change anything. It was pointless. Our relationship as we knew it died the moment he walked up the stairs with those two women. There was nothing left to talk about.
I wanted a divorce.
I wanted to fall in love with the right man.
I was stupid for thinking it was Maverick.
I performed at the opera that night, but my lungs weren’t as powerful as they used to be. A little piece of me died when Maverick hurt me, and I couldn’t regain my former strength. There was no drive to be the best I could be. The last time I sang my heart out, it chased my husband into the arms of someone else.
I finished my performance then returned backstage to pull the pins out of my hair and wipe away my ridiculously bright lipstick. I balled up the tissue and tossed it in the bin before I ran my fingers through my curls and tried to smooth out my strands. My car was parked in the front rather than the back because there was no one looking out for me anymore.
I was on my own.
I was just about to rise to my feet when I felt a stare in the mirror. Two chocolate-colored eyes looked into mine, intense and apologetic at the same time. In his grasp was a single red rose.
After Maverick had hurt me, I couldn’t look at him the same. When he used to surprise me at the opera, butterflies soared in my stomach. My smile couldn’t be contained because it became bigger with every passing second. Such joy would grip me because he was the person I looked forward to seeing the most.