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“Yeah, I would have liked to have known about this when it happened.”
“Hey, don’t be too hard on Sofia. I swore her to secrecy.”
“Sofia knew?” he snaps. “Sofia,” he yells her name and she must come into the room, “you knew about Zara and didn’t tell me?”
“Matthew Petrov,” she yells his full name, “you did not just call me in here to give me attitude. I was up all night with your son, and now you want to come at me?”
“Yikes,” I say. “Anyway, I have to go, love you. Give RC a kiss for me.” I hang up before Sofia snatches the phone from him, instead opting to text her.
Me: I’m so sorry. I owe you.
I put the phone in my purse before I pull open the glass door to the little shop. The bells on top tinkle as I look around the room and spot him sitting at the back. He holds up his hand, and I nod, walking around the tables to him. He stands up when I get to his table. “Zara,” he says, and all I can do is look at him and see if I feel something, anything.
“Daniel.” I pull out the chair in front of him before he makes the mistake of leaning in to get a kiss or something.
“Thank you for coming.” His voice is soft, and I see him rubbing his hands down the front of his jeans.
“I really didn’t have that much of a choice.” I look around to see if the server will be coming by so I can get some water. The nausea is starting to work its way up. “You’ve been calling and texting me nonstop,” I remind him sadly because the one person I’ve been wanting to call and text me has not reached out at all, making it clear to me that he is more than okay. The thought makes my stomach rise and then fall, like the water in the ocean moving up and down, side to side.
“I’m sorry, but I needed to talk to you.”
“Why?” I fold my arms over my legs. “For what?”
“Zara, I made a mistake.” His voice is low so no one else around us can hear, and I lean in.
“Daniel, you fucked your coworker for the past three years.” My voice isn’t low, but it isn’t high either. “A mistake is a onetime thing. What you had is an affair.”
“I know, I know.” He taps the table. “But it was all a mistake.”
“I obviously didn’t make you happy or fulfill something in you”—I lean back in my chair—“or else you would have never done that to me.”
“It’s not that, it was just—” I hold up my hand.
“Please, spare me.” I shake my head. “I don’t really care to hear what it was between you. What I know is that it was a selfish thing for you to do to me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“What do you want?” I ask him. “You want me to say that I forgive you?” I ask him but then quickly continue. “Because I don’t. I don’t forgive you for cheating on me. I don’t forgive you for bringing that woman into our house, and I especially don’t forgive you for fucking her on my favorite blanket.” I push away from the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go see a man about a horse.” I silently laugh as he glares at me.
“What?” he asks, shocked, his voice going tight. “A man about a horse?” He leers at me. “Is that why you won’t take me back, too busy rolling around in the hay with a hillbilly?”
I laugh as loud as I possibly can, and everyone stops talking and looks my way. This time I don’t care who fucking hears me. “Your crude response just goes to show how truly ignorant you are. No, dumbass, I’m not going to buy a horse. I know you are very familiar with the saying save a horse and ride a cowboy.” His face turns beet red as he just glares at me. “Besides, my cowboy treats me like a fucking princess and would never think about batting an eye at another woman.” I push away from the table, and his eyes look like they are going to pop out of his head while his head explodes. I turn to walk away from him, flipping him the bird. “And by the way, I’ve always wanted to tell you this, my middle finger is bigger than your dick.” The shocked gasps come out of more than just him. “Ta-ta.” I wiggle my fingers at him and walk out of the restaurant, feeling lighter than I’ve ever felt. “Take that,” I say, turning and making my way back to my house.
* * *
My eyes fly open when the doorbell rings, and it takes me a minute to get up off the couch. I was working, and then I got so fucking tired I had to lie down. I literally thought my eyes were going to close while I was sitting down. The doorbell rings again, and this time, I toss my blanket off me. The minute I lift my head, my stomach rumbles, making me close my eyes. This is apparently the new normal for having a broken heart. You get sick to your stomach all the time, so much so that you can’t eat, and even when you do eat, it feels like you are going to yack every second. I walk out of the living room toward the door when the bell rings again. “I’m coming,” I say, opening the door and seeing a man holding a brown bag in his hand with a vase of flowers in the other.
“Zara Petrov?” he asks, and I nod.
“These are for you.” He holds out the vase for me. “And this also.”
“Thank you.” I reach out for the vase, tucking it in my arm, hissing when I touch my nipple. Before grabbing the bag, I say, “Have a nice day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles before turning and walking away. I shut the door, walking to the kitchen to place the vase on the counter with the bag next to it. Pulling out the card, my hands shake as I pull it open. The minute my eyes see the card, the tears well up, and I blink, hoping they leave, but instead, they fall down my cheeks.
Happy Valentine’s Day to my favorite auntie.
Love RC
