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“How are you?” I ask, not particularly caring but not wanting to seem rude.
Ask me why. Why in the world should I care if I’m rude to this man?
Moira would have something to say about that. Moira would probably eviscerate him just for talking to me, which is an entertaining image, if not particularly useful right at the moment.
Jeff’s smile deflates a bit. “Honestly, babe, if you’d asked me that a couple of weeks ago, I’d have been over the moon. Everything was going my way. Or so I thought.”
He’s looking at me intently, like there’s some kind of hint there I’m missing.
“Nat—” He lays a hand over mine, where it rests on the bench between us. “Nat, I made a mistake.”
I’m still staring at his hand, completely confused. Is he talking about touching my hand?
“We were perfect together. You were perfect for me,” he says, dropping his voice and leaning closer in the noisy restaurant. “Please tell me you know that. That you haven’t forgotten how it was between us.”
I finally pull my gaze up to his face.
“Are you serious?”
Now he’s puppy dog-wounded, like I’ve insulted him deeply. “I’ve never been more serious, Nat. I made a mistake with Tawdra. I should never have… but it’s in the past.”
He waves a hand, like he’s just magically wiping away his affair, their relationship, their engagement.
I burst out laughing loudly. Loud enough to draw attention. The hostess smiles and nods at me, waving me up, bags of food in her hands.
I don’t even bother turning around, heading to the counter, collecting our things, saying thanks, heading for the door.
“Natalie.”
Jeff is scrambling along behind me. Someone—not Jeff—holds the door open for me as I wrangle the bags out to the sidewalk.
“Natalie!”
Still chuckling, I stop. “What, Jeff?”
“I’m trying to tell you something here,” he says.
“I heard you just fine.”
“I’m pouring out my heart,” he starts. “The least you can do is?—”
“The least I can do?”
I’m not an angry person. Not the external kind of angry. I don’t throw dishes, break mirrors, trash my room, or even scream into a pillow when I’m mad. Most of my anger gets directed inward. There’s always something I can work on, you know? I take full responsibility for that—my choices, my actions. That’s how I process most of my anger.
But only most.
“You want to know the least I can do, Jeff?”
People on the sidewalk are staring. A year ago, I would never have been capable of this. Not even six months ago. Maybe not even a few weeks ago. Confrontation is not my thing, not at all. I’m not into taking revenge or keeping track of anybody else’s karma. I certainly have no desire to draw undue attention to myself.
But maybe that was old Natalie.
Jeff looks confused. Come to think of it, he wears that look a lot. I cannot believe I thought I was in love with this jerk.
“The least I can do is you,” I say, clear as a bell. Somebody passing by chokes on a laugh. “You were the least I could do, and only then, when I was at my very worst. I’m not sorry it ended—God, I’ll be grateful until the day I die to you and Tawdra. My life is better, thanks to the two of you cheating on me.”
“Baby, I’m telling you, that’s over. Tawdra and me aren’t together anymore.”
