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“Forgive ME?” I repeated.
I called for another round of drinks. He didn’t stop me. The momentary distraction calmed us both down a bit.
“Look, I know I did things too,” he said. “Bad things. But three guys, Claudia?” He looked hurt. Anxious. “Three guys at once?”
Our entrees arrived. Garrett went right to eating, eager to change the subject. I pushed the food around my plate like I used to do as a child, trying to make it look like I ate something.
“I’ll delete the photos,” he said, and I was suddenly hopeful. “But only after you come back, and after things have… settled down again between us.”
I let out a shuddering sigh. Picked at some vegetables.
“Oh, and after you quit that stupid side job you’re doing at that house, of course.”
Again, I almost choked on my anger. The nerve of him! I wanted to go off… wanted to say a thousand things about loyalty and fidelity and control. Again, I swallowed it. But it was getting harder and harder.
“Let’s eat,” I said, not wanting to fight him on the subject. I knew in my heart he’d never delete the photos. That he’d always hold onto them no matter what, just to have that power over me.
We ate, this time mostly in silence. Garrett made small talk, telling me what he’d been doing since I’d been gone. He talked about work. His friends. His family…
Like always, he never asked me about anything.
Halfway through our entree he started fidgeting. I could see it was about to happen. I reached into my bag, and pulled out my phone. I pressed ‘send’ on something already there, then checked the few messages I had.
“You talking to the guys?” Garrett asked snidely from his side of the table.
“No,” I countered. “Work.”
“Whatever.”
He fidgeted some more. Stopped drinking his third beer. Finally, he put down his knife and fork.
“Gotta hit the men’s room,” he said at last. “Be right back.”
I nodded, staring down at my plate. Not wanting him to see my face. I kept my eyes on his phone though, which was right next to his napkin. Kept staring at it through the tops of my eyes…
I heard Garrett chuckle loudly. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving this here.”
With one quick motion he swept up his phone and slipped it into his front pocket. My expression was all manufactured disappointment.
“Sorry, baby.”
He took a step, leaned over… and kissed me right on the forehead. It took every ounce of will not to spit in his face.
Then he turned, and I let out a long sigh of relief as he finally made his way toward the restroom.
Forty
HUNTER
He was a little shorter than I pictured him. Still cocky, still walking with an obnoxious strut, looking like the epitome of a self-centered asshole as he primped himself in the mirror.
Another text came through. Three simple words:
FRONT LEFT POCKET
I waited until he was at the urinal. A dirty trick, but everything this asshole had done so far had been dirty.
“Hey dipshit…”
