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“Were you happy? You wanted me to ask you in a few years. And, frankly, I’m dying to know.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I don’t even thinkhappywas the right word. I was…effervescent. I think that’s the best way to put it.” I put my fork down and almost immediately, Antonio was swiping the plates away.
“Dessert, Ms. Cruz?” he asked me but eyed Dexter.
He always asked me, and I always said no. But tonight, I dared to try. “Mm, cheesecake?”
Antonio nodded with a smile. “Dessert wine also?”
When he asked, although innocently, my mood plummeted. All the things I was determined to ignore while I was with Dexter surfaced.
“Just coffee. Two, please,” Dexter answered, saving me from the embarrassment of a simpleno, thank you.
Antonio, none the wiser, walked away.
“I’m sober,” I blurted out. “Have been for seven years. It’s difficult, feeling everything and not knowing what to do with all that pressure. I’m alone, so sometimes it’s hard. But, I’m better now. It’s easier now. I run. I, uh, don’t frequent AA meetings. They tend to make me want to drink again. It’s…pressuring.” I was babbling.
Shut the hell up already.
I cleared my throat.
“You’re a strong woman, Noa. I never doubted it for a second.”
I stared at him the way I used to, openly and honestly, without any reservations.
But you did. Which is why we’re sitting here. As strangers.
“What are we doing, Dexter?”
“I’m making it up to you.” He said the words too easily and it pissed me off.
It wasn’t fair that I was sitting in front of him, my world up in flames, and he, smoother than smooth, with laughter in his eyes.
Even after all these years, he was it. And I hated it.
“What exactly are you making up for? Lost time? Breaking my heart? Leaving me when I needed you most?” I stood, tossing my napkin on the table. “This time, history willnotrepeat itself. Don’t follow me. Don’t ruin what I’ve made for myself. God knows you’ve already ruined me enough.” I ran out, not stopping until I reached the end of the block.
They’d bill me. They knew where to find me.
But if I stayed in there any longer, I’d be begging at his feet. And I’d spent too much time building myself up to break right back down again. An hour in his presence and I was already resorting back to my dramatic tendencies.
“Noa!”
I heard him calling out my name as he ran up beside me, and I yelled out in frustration. It was too fresh in my memories, him calling out my name and me turning too quickly, the sharp pain of hitting my head before the fall.
“What do you want?” I yelled, ignoring people’s stares. “I can’tdothis again.”
“Why the hell not?” He reached me, not touching me.
I would crumble if he did. “I left you in the past. I moved on. We didn’t work out for a reason. Why can’t we leave it at that?” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them from getting too cold. People were staring at us, but I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit.
“We didn’t work out because I was fucking scared. I was eighteen!” He folded his arms across his chest. “And you haven’t moved on. Neither have I. There is nomoving on.”
“But you have, Dexter. You haven’t been alone.” I walked away from him. He continued to follow me, and I wanted to scream.
“You have no right to throw that in my face. You left! What was I supposed to do?”
He was right. It wasn’t fair. But I didn’t care.
