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A staff member wearing a red V-neck sweater arrives, delivering an over-the-top fancy silver tray. It’s loaded with toast, coffee, and all kinds of yummy goodies. I pour us each a steaming cup from the carafe, and he starts to talk, obviously having had some things on his mind.
Mindlessly, he stirs a spoon in his coffee even though he takes it black.
“I was in love,” he says. “I proposed. Things were great, but then, she became disinterested in me. When I think back on that time, I realized I lived a life of complete denial. I knew right away something was wrong when she began acting differently and being secretive. She started going out more. Without me. With people I didn’t know. When I’d walk in a room, she’d walk out.”
“If she was on the phone, she took the call in the other room, right?” I ask.
“How’d you know?”
“I’ve been in one of those relationships myself.” The terrible memories all come rushing back at once.
“For her, it was the back garden.” He picks at the crust of his toast. “Dinners became conversationless, if that’s a word. She looked at her phone screen more than she looked at my face. And then, one day, she left. I came home and found the ring left on my dresser. Not even a note.”
His pain reminds me of my own. Waking to the shock that you’re alone, that they’ve left you. I push away my plate. “That’s terrible! Did you ever hear from her again?”
“Eat,” he says, pushing my plate back toward me. “You need breakfast.”
“No changing the subject.” I pour a swirl of sweet creamer into my mug, watching the coffee change colors.
“Fine. If you insist.”
“I do. If you don’t mind,” I add quickly.
“Claudia went to see Wicked on Broadway two weeks later. My ex was there. Front row tickets. She had a man on her arm and an even bigger diamond on her hand than the one I’d given her.”
“No wonder she wanted to see Wicked,” I say. “She was probably picking up tips for her next relationship.”
His chuckle makes me feel better. I have a bite of my toast as he continues his story.
“She’d been cheating on me the last six months of our engagement. And I didn’t even have a clue.” He takes a deep sip of coffee. “It was a fresh bout of pain, finding out her dirty little secret.”
“That—God. That is just awful. Who could do that to someone?” I shake my head with disgust. “I can’t even talk to a strange man when I’m dating someone…”
“The worst part?”
“There’s more?” I’m horrified.
“It was my cousin she was with. We’d grown up together, me, him, and Claudia. We were as close as you can be. And I had no idea the whole time. It was the most painful, humiliating thing I’ve ever been through,” he says. “And I will never go through something like that again.”
Hoping to ease his pain, I lighten the moment with, “Hence the eligible bachelor plaque?”
“Exactly.”
Then he surprises me with what he says next. Shocks me, even.
His eyes lock on mine. “Which is why we should keep things professional. After what you’ve been through, after what I’ve just shared with you. We work well together. I don’t want to risk our professional relationship.”
This seems so out of the blue—I’m speechless, my body aching for more sex-capades, my mind replaying last night’s date on slow-mo. Even his devil’s toy seems like an angel this morning.
I hold my coffee cup midair. I can’t even pull up my two-word vocabulary from last night.
He says, “Don’t you agree? Then, no one gets hurt.”
Oh. God.
Didn’t I see this coming? Didn’t I know he was too good to be true? Didn’t I know that this wouldn’t last?
Stop, Lily. Think. Breathe.
