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“You’re early.”
I turned and there he was, suddenly behind me. It was crazy how much of a stalker he’d become. My once beloved fiance, now sidling up on me…
Garrett was clean-shaven now, looking much better and more focused than last time. He was also dressed sharply, in a pair of black slacks and a grey button-down shirt. I could smell my favorite cologne on him, too.
So it’s going to be romance then… my mind registered.
“I wanted to get this over with,” I told him. Realizing that was a bit harsh, I added “I just didn’t want you to wait.”
“Our table is ready,” he said. He extended his hand. “Come?”
Trying to hide my reluctance, I took it.
The restaurant was crowded, but somehow he’d scored the table we always sat at. The one where he’d gotten down on one knee to propose to me, while the rest of the patrons and staff clapped. It was cheesy, but I’d been overwhelmed with emotion at the time. In retrospect it was a little unimaginative, just like Garrett.
We sat down and I immediately ordered drinks. A Long Island Iced Tea for me, and Garrett’s favorite beer — the one in the bigger glass.
“Thanks,” he said approvingly. He kept looking me up and down. It made me uncomfortable.
“Don’t thank me,” I told him. “I’m here because you made me come. Now…” I said, tearing up. “What is it that you want, Garrett?”
He let out a long breath that was more of an agitated sigh. “You know what I want, Claudia. I want you to come home.”
The drinks arrived. I jumped right on mine.
“So you’re blackmailing me,” I said. “You’re forcing me to come back to you, even though I don’t want to.”
Garrett took my hand in his again. This time I didn’t pull back.
“Claudia, I’ve made mistakes. I was an asshole. I—”
“You’re still an asshole,” I said.
He took his napkin. Wiped my tears. Again, I let him.
“I didn’t want to to this. I really didn’t. I went over there hoping you weren’t… well, doing what you were doing.” His face went from concerned to pained. “And with all three of them??
?? He looked utterly disgusted. “Claudia… how could you do that?”
“It was easy,” it told him. “They respect me. They—”
“Nobody respects you,” he barked a short laugh. “They’re using you, Claudia. Using you to live in that house. To fuck you. That’s all they want. That’s all they—”
I burst into tears. Not because what he was saying was true — far from it — but because I needed time. I needed him to see struggle.
I reached for my drink again. After a minute of silence, he did the same. We sat across from each other, at this table we once shared during happier times. This guy I used to have all these overwhelming feelings for, a million years ago.
He was like a stranger to me now. I felt nothing.
“Baby,” he said, “I didn’t want to do this. I never wanted to—”
“But you did,” I jumped in. “You took all those horrible photos. And now you’re going to send them everywhere! My friends, my family, my job… I’m going to lose everyth—”
“No you’re not.”
He squeezed my hand. I dried my eyes.
“Honestly Claudia, I still want you back.” He tapped his phone. “Even after… this.”
