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“Hmm.” I nod, and pull out my pad from my apron tied around my waist. “Will that be all?”
He hands reach out, and wrap around mine. “Charly, please sit. I know you’re working, but I won’t take up too much of your time.”
I stifle a groan, and slump into the booth across from him. “You have five minutes.”
“Look, I hate the way we left things, and I just want to apologize to you. Face to face. You didn’t deserve what I did to you.”
Images of Greg with his pants down around his ankles, screwing his coworker on the kitchen table flash through my mind. “I definitely didn’t deserve that.”
“I know you were dealing with a lot during most of our relationship.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Choose your next words wisely.”
“I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did.” His eyes roam the diner, bouncing from wall to wall like he’s searching for the words he wants. “I should’ve talked to you about how I was feeling, and things could’ve gone a lot differently. I’m sorry I didn’t do that. It’s been bothering me that we never got closure. That I ended things the way I did.”
I close my eyes, and when I open them again, I’m reaching across the table for Greg’s hand. “I forgive you, Greg. I’m not mad at you. I never was. I understand why you did what you did, and though I wish you wouldn’t have done it that way, it doesn’t matter now because you weren’t right for me, and I wasn’t right for you. So, it’s all water under the bridge.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Maybe next time, in your future relationship, you’ll communicate with your girlfriend instead of taking the easy way out.”
Greg opens his mouth to speak, but someone stops next to our table, drawing his attention. “Uh ...”
I glance up, and my mouth falls open.
Familiar blue eyes stare down at me like lasers. They’re such a stark contrast against his tanned skin and dark hair. They flick to my hands, still joined with Greg’s on the table, and I pull them back onto my lap. Then, a slow, sly grin creeps across his face.
Greg leans in. “Are you ... do you ...?”
I gesture to the man towering over me. “Greg, this is Anthony, the quarterback for the New England Patriots. Anthony, this is my ex-boyfriend, Greg.”
Anthony’s eyes light up in amusement. “Greg the Cheater?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip to keep from smiling.
Anthony sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet ya, Greg.” As soon as Greg places his hand inside Anthony’s massive grip, Anthony jerks him out of the booth. “You should get going now. Have a nice night.”
Greg stumbles, and leans down to pick up his briefcase, his eyes bouncing between me and Anthony, who’s trying to make himself comfortable in the narrow booth. “Uh, Charly ...?”
“Like I told you, Greg. No hard feelings. I forgive you.”
He nods. “Okay. Bye, I guess.”
Anthony gives him a dramatic wave. “Buh-bye, Greg.”
Greg scurries off like he isn’t sure if Anthony will come charging after him.
I slap my palm over my mouth as a laugh bursts from my throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He grins, leaning back and draping his arm over the top of the booth. “Came here to see you.”
“Why?” My heart stalls out. “Oh, my God. Is Bryce okay? Is it Beatrice? Did something happen?”
“Whoa, whoa. Relax.” He lifts his palm. “Everyone is fine.”
I clutch my chest. “Oh, thank God.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You would’ve known that if you answered any of Bryce’s phone calls.”
