I side-eyed Lucas, who was finally looking a bit uncomfortable. “You’re having dinner with her tonight?”
“Not alone. We’re meeting a group of old friends.”
“How nice.” Say it’s canceled, Lucas. Do it. Say you want to be with me. Don’t care about her.
“You could come along,” said Jessica, without any sincerity whatsoever. “It’s just that you wouldn’t know anyone.”
I stared hard at Lucas, waiting for him to insist I join them.
But he hesitated too long.
“I wouldn’t dream of intruding.” I scooped up the bottle from the table, tempted to take it with me, but instead I shoved it into his stomach. “But it looks like a very promising evening.” With that, I picked up my suitcase again opened the door.
“Mia, wait!” Lucas yelled.
But I was already barreling down the lopsided stairs two a time, my suitcase banging the steps behind me.
Chapter Four
Of course, I had no idea where to go once I was out on the street. And it was snowing now. Antarctica cold. Dark. Part of me wanted to get as far away from Lucas’s building as possible in case he was planning on coming after me, and another part wanted to go sit and bawl in the bar across the street, like maybe right in front of the window so I’d be totally visible if he came looking.
What? Don’t be f**king ridiculous.
Somewhere inside me, my pride decided to speak up. So he comes out and you’re sitting there behind the glass with a sad face like a f**king lobster in a tank waiting for someone to buy and boil you? How pathetic. NO.
I had to admit that was pretty pathetic, but a drink sounded pretty damn good, so I dragged my suitcase through the falling snow and chose the corner bar at the end of the street. As I pushed the door open, I realized how familiar it all seemed—feeling sad and alone in a big city, thinking I’d made a big fat mistake in coming here, seeking refuge in a bar. It was exactly how I’d felt eight months ago in Paris. Instinct had me looking for the bartender, as if it might be Lucas again, and everything would be OK.
But of course, it wasn’t.
It was a pretty brunette in a tight black tee shirt with lots of tattoos up her arms. “Hi there,” she called, filling a cocktail shaker with ice. “Take a seat anywhere you can find one. I’ll be right with you.”
I nodded and chose an empty stool at the end of the bar, looking around at all the happy friends and couples. A trio of twenty-something girls in skinny jeans and heels sat to my left, laughing at something on one of their phones. Was it only when I was miserable that I noticed how happy everyone else seemed in bars? Wasn’t anyone here moping like me?
When the bartender returned, I ordered a glass of red wine, wishing bars were like Starbucks and you had your choice of Tall, Grande, Vendi, and Trenta. Because I needed a Trenta glass of wine. Several of them.
I took my phone out, and as soon as I looked at the screen, I saw that I already had two texts and one voicemail from Lucas.
The first text read, Where are you? I’m sorry. Let’s talk.
The second, I love you. Talk to me. Please.
My throat lumped up and I swallowed some wine to dissolve it. It tasted OK, but nowhere near as good as the wines Lucas always chose for me. He knew just what I liked, or maybe it was that everything always tasted better with him. But wine is wine, and this was an emotional emergency, so I took another gulp before listening to his voicemail.
“Mia, it’s me. Where are you? I’m sorry I didn’t come after you, and I’m worried about you out there alone. Please talk to me. I keep thinking about Paris, how after we got off the train from Provence I let you go, and it took me some time to realize I should have fought harder for you. So I went to your hotel room…and now I wish I could do it again, but I have no idea where you are. Please call me. I love you.”
The fact that we were both thinking about Paris squeezed my heart. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d kept something from me I thought was a big deal, and he’d done it on purpose. And hiding me from Jessica was just as bad. He’d said he just wanted keep his romantic life private, but that didn’t sit right with me. I could see not telling her the intimate details of our relationship, but to hide its existence—my existence—hurt like a bitch.
I listened to his message again, and I still wasn’t satisfied. OK, fine, he loved me, and he was sorry he hadn’t come after me, but there was no apology for the whole Jessica thing or the painful things he’d said. He could have invited me to dinner. He could have blown the dinner off. He could have spoken up for me and not left me standing there like a fool.
His voice, though. It did something to me. How many nights had I heard it and wished to be close to him? And now I was here, and he was looking for me. Was I a fool to be sitting at this bar alone?
My phone buzzed. Another text from him.
Are you leaving without even talking to me? This isn’t fair.
I gulped wine so fast I nearly choked. Fair? FAIR? I find his pretty little ex wrapped in my towel in his apartment, getting ready to go to dinner with him, and he wants to talk fair? My nostrils flared, which only happens when I get truly enraged. Since it is very unattractive, I tried to hide it behind my wine glass as I guzzled a few more ounces.
My phone vibrated again, and I looked at the screen, expecting to see his name again. But it was Coco texting me.
Where are you? Lucas just called me!
Lucas had called Coco? What had he said to her? I dialed her number, and she picked up after the first ring.