Mid Life Love: At Last (Mid Life Love #2)(11)

“Invite me out to dinner? Catch up on life? I don’t have shit to say to you.”

“I beg to differ. We need to talk.”

“No thanks. Not interested.”

“It’s important.” He sighed.

“No. It’s not.”

“Claire, it’s been five years now. We can at least be cordial to one another.”

“Cordial? How cordial do you think I should be to the lying sack of shit who got my ex-best friend pregnant?” I shook my head. “Actually, don’t even answer that. I’ve already used up my ‘pointless conversation’ minutes for the day. Please get the f**k out of my store.”

“You’re going to listen to me, Claire.” He took a step forward and looked directly into my eyes. “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to stand there and listen to every f**king word that I have to say.”

I crossed my arms. “If I were you, I would leave right now. My fiancée will be here any minute and he won’t be as nice as I’m being to you.”

His face suddenly fell—or at least it looked like it did. “You’re...You’re engaged now? To who?”

“Please leave, Ryan.” I felt an ache in my chest—a painful, burning ache. “I don’t want you here. Ever.”

He stared at me—shaking his head as he slowly backed away.

Before he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. “I’m only leaving right now because you’re closing and I have somewhere to be. I was just stopping by to make sure it was true that you worked here. Trust me, I’ll be back. And you and I are going to talk.”

It took every ounce of strength in my body not to run over and stab him with the sharp edge of my dust wand, but I just stood there. Paralyzed. Livid.

As soon as he was gone, I gained mobility again and threw my dust-wand to the floor. I headed behind the counter, pressing the button that made the glass panel drop down and block anyone from coming any further; I didn’t want to take any chances on him returning minutes later.

I locked myself in the bathroom and ran cold water in the sink, splashing my face over and over again. As hard as I tried to fight it, my most vivid and bitter memory of our failed marriage began to play in my mind...

I took another sip of disgusting wine and looked at the incriminating photos Barry had handed me.

“I asked Amanda where she was on last Friday.” Barry lit a cigar and shook his head. “She told me she was with you—out shopping for a new dress.” He picked up one of the photos and ran his fingers along the timestamp. “Maybe she meant she was wearing a dress while she was f**king Ryan in his office...”

I let out a short nervous laugh, but I couldn’t stop crying. As hard as I tried to repress my sobs, the tears were falling faster and faster and my chest was heaving uncontrollably.

A waiter stopped by and cleared his throat. “Um, sir? This is a nonsmoking café.”

“My wife is f**king her husband.” Barry snapped. “I can smoke wherever the f**k I want today.”

The waiter’s face turned bright red and he dashed across the room.

I wiped away another stream of tears and stared at the photo that had fallen in my lap, the one of Ryan tucking a strand of hair behind Amanda’s ear, the one of her leaning in close for a kiss from his lips.

“Can I keep a set of these?” My voice cracked.

“Of course you can. I made four copies. One for you, one for me, and two sets for my lawyers.”

I nodded and slid the stack of photos back into the envelope. I was too numb to say anything else. I needed to be alone.

Standing up, I walked over and hugged Barry—knowing that I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.

He hugged me back and used his wrinkled sleeve to wipe my face. “You’re going to be okay, Claire. Don’t let what they’ve done to us ruin you. You’re an amazing person and you’ll bounce back from this...”

He said a few more things, but I couldn’t make out any of the words. I was too busy focusing on the drive home, too busy wondering what the hell I was going to say when I saw Ryan face to face.

I dragged myself out of the hotel lounge and into the rain—not bothering to put up my umbrella. The valet brought my car around and offered to give me a towel for my seat, but I slipped inside and sped off.

“I love you, Claire...You’re the love of my life...I’m going to make sure our anniversary is the best one we’ve ever had...”

I sniffled as I remembered him saying those words to me—last night.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved—and you always will be...”

I pulled off on the exit that led to our suburb, shaking my head at all the beautiful memories that were playing in my head—knowing that no matter what I said to him tonight, our so-called “fairytale” was long over.

I drove around our neighborhood until my gas needle hit “E,” trying to come up with something to say, but I was too numb, too hurt. After deciding that I would let the pictures say it all, I drove my car into the garage and sat at the wheel with my head in my hands.

The two of us were just shopping for new kitchen countertops last week—he wanted wood and I wanted granite. We were just planning our fifteen year anniversary, and even though he’d been vague about the plans, I was sure he was taking me to the Panama Canal—the place I’d always wanted to go.