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Each time I sit alone at the table I’m surrounded by exactly three empty chairs. Each meal, I die a little inside. When I sit here, eating alone, the pain I feel can only mean one thing.
I am in love with him. Unequivocally, positively, head over heels in love with him. And he and his dad were my family. But he must not be in love me.
How could he be if he sent me away like this?
I can’t even blame him.
Who would want to be forced into marriage?
At least I know he didn’t get rid of me because there’s something wrong with me. I like who I am now. I know myself. Heck, I don’t even look into the star signs anymore or read my horoscope.
I thought I knew him too. The darn bull. Forget those stubborn Tauruses. I knew from the beginning it would never work out between us, didn't I? I tap the side of the bowl with my fork, pressing my tongue flat against the roof of my mouth and counting to ten, trying to keep the flow of tears from coming.
My heart is broken. A single tear rolls down my cheek, falling on the table. Before the dam can break and the tears really start flowing, there’s a knock on my door.
“What? Who could that be?” I ask myself.
The Hamlet is a quiet family place. No one has ever visited me after dark before. I dab my eyes with my napkin, quickly redoing my high bun. I lose the robe, fold it over a chair, and go to answer the door in my gray sweat suit.
I open my robin’s egg blue front door to find Caesar standing there, his arms crossed over his bulky frame. Damian had him fly over from Greece to be my personal bodyguard for the next few months while I settle in. At least he doesn’t have to stand outside my door 24/7.
He’s just kinda… around.
I’ve gotten used to his big, looming presence in the back of my classroom. Maybe he’s why the kids are so polite and respectful. Doesn’t matter; I’ve never been a teacher before and I’ll take all the help I can get.
“Hello, there. What can I do for you?” I bring a hand to my bun, nervous I look as if I’ve been crying.
He narrows his gaze. “You’ve been crying?”
The most words he’s ever said to me.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Allergies.”
“To what?” he asks. “The Hamlet?”
“No.” I laugh, pleasantly surprised to find he has a sense of humor. No, it’s to breakup. To heartache. To the ending of what I thought could be my future. “Cheese. I had some cheese and it made my eyes water.”
He gives me a long look. “No one is allergic to cheese.”
“I’m okay, Caesar. I promise. Just a little sad.”
He gives a nod, his dark eyes going soft. He cares. I can see it in his frown.
“It’s not for me to say,” he murmurs. “But it’s not good. What he did to you.”
The shattered pieces of my broken heart melt in my chest, pooling at my feet. “You’re kind…” My words trail off, not wanting to start crying again.
“Here.” He hands me a creamy yellow envelope. “This will help.”
“Who is it from?” I examine the envelope, turning it over in my hands.
It’s thick, quality paper. My heart beats faster. There’s no name on the front. I’m having trouble breathing. I flip it over to find the Bachman family seal in red wax, holding the envelope closed.
Caesar gives me a smile. Then leaves.
“Goodnight!” I call to his receding frame.
He tosses a hand in the air as he goes.
