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Oh, he’d googled what the flowers meant all right.
Right there in his salon in front of everyone.
The way he’d glanced from his phone to me with a shocked and horrified look on his face was all the glory I’d needed.
“I was going to go with a flower that saidbetrayal, butI hate youandyou’re dead to mewas so much better,” I’d said to him. “Given there’s no flower that translates toyou should have kept your dick in your pants, I went with what’s in my heart.”
People in the salon had gasped.
One lady had lifted her phone to record us.
I didn’t care. I hoped she did.
“Oh, and you can expect a bill for my time today, and one from the sex health clinic because god only knows what diseases your cheating dick gave me.”
The clinic had been totally free, but after Keats had mentioned it, I thought it packed a sweet little punch.
Someone had laughed.
Not Jason.Oh no, he looks like he’s about to choke on something.
I’d stopped at the first chair on my way out. A lady with fresh highlights, dressed head to toe in Prada and YSL. “Darling, that colour is fabulous on you.” It was. She looked amazing. I handed her my card. “If you ever need a personal shopper, you give me a call.”
And then I’d walked out.
Happy and empowered.
I’d waited for the crash to come, but it never did. I’d waited for the bitterness that usually followed to come, but it never did.
I also waited for the apology from Jason to come—only so I could tell him to fuck all the way off—but that never came either. Not that I was surprised.
So yes, I’d wasted three months of my life with that cheating jerk and I was happy to be rid of the garbage from my life.
I could focus on my work and on myself. And my friends, of course. Who all told me they never liked Jason from the very beginning and I should have listened...
Hindsight was always crystal clear.
And I fully intended to focus on myself for the foreseeable future. No more men, no more dating, no more fast-acting, smooth-talking jerks. I wasn’t even looking for hook-ups. No more casual meetings, no more Grindr.
“Oh, come on,” Cory tried. “It’ll be fun, and you can forget about what’s-his-name.”
Cory was my best friend and I loved him with my whole heart. I should have listened when he’d warned me about Jason, but I hadn’t. Not a mistake I’d make twice.
“I’ve already forgotten about him,” I replied. “And like I said, if and when I’m ready to start looking again, I’ll need your stamp of approval before there’s a second look.”
“Promise me this time,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.
“I promise.” I nodded to the dance floor. “Now go swish your sexy little arse for the boys.”
He brightened, downed his cocktail, and slinked his way to the dance floor. He was such a little slut and I adored him. Over-the-top, fem, loud and flamboyant, fierce and loyal, and the kindest soul I’d ever met.
I could joke with him about the prospect of meeting someone new, even though I was adamant that day would be years from now. I was so done with this scene: sitting in a bar, watching the men as they danced, as they eyed each other, sized each other up. Some looking for forever. Some looking for a quick fuck.
I wanted nothing to do with any of it.
Happy to chaperone Cory until he found someone else to leave with. But for me?
No.
