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Ken:Hey, how would you like to meet me at Pressed tonight at seven?
I grin.Pressed is the fanciest restaurant in town and if he’s asking me there, maybe I’m just being a crazy, insecure mess and blowing things way out of proportion. It’ll be a good opportunity for us to talk and hopefully get on the same page about what we’re doing.
Gracie:See you then!
I tuck my phone away,grinning as I get back to work. I eat a late lunch and wave goodbye to Poppy as we close up. I have an hour and a half to get cleaned up and changed before I have to meet Ken at Pressed and I want to look amazing so I’m going to need every minute.
I grab a royal-blue cocktail dress that I love but never had the reason to wear. It’s a little snugger than I remember, and normally I wouldn’t wear something so formfitting out, but I know Ken loves my curves and I want to drive him wild.
I pull my hair up and pin it up into a French twist so it’s off of my neck. I add some mascara and a little bit of eyeliner. I have one lipstick. It’s bright red and I bought it thinking that one day I would be confident enough to wear it out. I think tonight is finally that night. I’m taking control of my life and asking for what I need.
I apply the lipstick carefully, smiling as I see my reflection. I look happy. In love even.
I grab my purse, heading out to my car and making the short drive over to Pressed. It’s on the outskirts of Cherry Falls, tucked into the forest and it looks like a hidden gem as I drive up and park.
The place is intimate, romantic, and I can’t wait to see Ken. I head inside, giving his name to the maître d’. Ken isn’t here yet but I’m still a few minutes early so I don’t worry about it.
I order a water and look around the place. We’re seated in the middle of the restaurant and I take in the bar tucked into one corner. There are heavy curtains around the walls, helping to muffle the chatter. The tables are small and spaced out so that everyone has privacy.
The waitress drops off some bread and butter and my stomach rumbles. I’m starving but I don’t want to start eating until Ken is here.
Ten minutes goes by, then twenty, then thirty. I don’t want to believe he’s this late, so I continue browsing the menu as if I’m a food snob and nothing here sounds good enough for my palette.
After forty-five minutes, people are starting to give me curious looks. Mostly it’s women giving me a sympathetic glance, knowing what I’m not ready to admit yet. I’ve been stood up. My stomach starts to feel more and more nauseous. By the time it’s eight and he’s an hour late, I give up.
Standing on shaky legs, I drop a twenty on the table, blinking back tears. I bite the inside of my cheek, the slight sting bringing me back from the edge. I just need to make it home and then I can fall apart. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.
I give the maître d’ a shaky smile as I practically run across the lot to my car. I make the drive home, tears slipping down my cheeks, my breath choppy as I sob. I have to pull over a few blocks away from my apartment to clear my eyes and blow my nose. I can hardly see through my tears, but I somehow make it the last three blocks home.
Parking outside my apartment, I can’t help but check my phone. It’s silly and setting myself up for disappointment, but I so desperately want there to be an explanation. Surely, he’s messaged me by now to apologize and tell me he had an emergency at the clinic.
There’s nothing though.
I swallow down the next wave of tears and force myself out of my car and inside to my apartment. Locking the door behind me, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I look miserable. Pathetic. Gullible. There’s no stopping the tears this time as a torrent of emotion slams into me.
The first man I had sex with, the first man Iloved, just stood me up. I have no idea if he was just using me or if he forgot about our date. Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse. I can’t be second to Ken’s job, and whether he’s an asshole or selfishly caught up in paperwork, the result is the same. My heart is broken and I don’t know what it will take to ease the pain.
I trudge through my apartment and flop down on the bed, curling into a ball. There’s no containing the tears or wretched sobs pulled from the depths of sorrow.
Something pulls me out of my half-asleep, half-awake pity party. I roll over on the couch, groaning from the cramps in my muscles. My phone rings, making me groan again. I almost let it go to voicemail, but some silly part of me is hoping it’s Ken.
Of course, it’s not. It’s Sydney, a friend from college. She’s several years younger than me, and just graduated recently. The phone rings again, and I decide to answer. Maybe a distraction from Ken will be good.
“Hey, Sydney,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the crack in my voice.
“Gracie, is everything okay?”
A hollow laugh escapes my throat, followed by a few pathetic sniffles. “No,” I whisper hoarsely. So much for not talking about Ken.
“Tell me everything and don’t spare a single detail.” Sydney sounds like she’s shuffling around, possible getting cozy on her couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. We used to hang out all the time in college and have movie nights. I bet she’s wearing her fleece pajamas with the owls on them.
“Wait, why did you call? I don’t want to just spill my guts if you have something important.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. I’m just calling because I miss you. We used to chat a lot more, and now that I’m out of school and back in my hometown of Rosewood, I feel like I’ve been dropping the ball. I would hate for you to think I don’t care.”
Her sweetness only makes me cry harder. “You’re the best,” I say with a sniffle. “And it’s on me, too. I’ve been busy getting the flower shop up and running, and then there was this guy…” A fresh wave of tears trickles down my cheeks. It’s all so raw, so painful right now, but I’m glad Sydney called.
“Did he hurt you? Dump you? I’ll deck him in the face if he’s the one who made you cry!” God, I love her. She sounds like she’s serious, but I know Sydney. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.
