Page 30 of Irresistible Second Chance

“About us.” He said finally looking me in the eye. He grabbed my right hand that sat on the table and squeezed it, “I’m sorry, Sydney. For everything.”

He started to tear up and didn’t let go of my hand as he reached for his pocket square. He took it out and wiped at his eyes.

I extracted my hand from his as if he had the plague and said, “Sorry isn’t good enough, Mark. You hurt me. You threw me away. You started living with another woman.”

“Well, you started living with another man,” he countered.

“So now you’re spying on me? That other man is my friend,” who I’d had sex with too many times to count. “And we’re divorced, remember? I can do anything I want with whomever I want, you made that clear.”

He held up his hand, as if trying to fend me off, and said, “You’re very right. I’m sorry. I have no right to make demands on your time. No right at all. I’m sorry.”

We sat there in silence for a long time. He stared at his cup of coffee. I stared at him, just waiting for him to say another word.

He didn’t.

“Ok, well, this has been great,” I said. “Thanks for the apology, Mark. Have a nice life.”

“Wait,” he said, “Don’t leave. Please. Sit down. Please.”

I lowered myself back down on the seat.

“What is all this about, Mark? I haven’t seen your face since the day in the office when you dropped me like a sack of potatoes.”

He looked ashamed as he met my eyes. “I know. And I regret that day every day.”

I found that hard to believe. “So, what happened? Did your new girlfriend kick you out?”

“I haven’t been with Stacey Ann since before our divorce.”

I was shocked to hear that. “Trouble in paradise?”

He shook his head, “No, I just realized that she wasn’t the one.”

“Funny, because you swore in the office that she was. You thought I was too boring, too one-note ,and what were your exact words? Oh yeah, that you had settled.”

My voice ran out of steam towards the end as I recounted what he took from me: my self-respect.

“Sydney,” he said, looking at me like he used to. “I still love you. I want another chance. I want us to try again.”

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. I found myself waiting for the punchline. Anytime now, he was going to say that he was joking and that this was all a very bad joke. But he didn’t. He just stared at me, waiting for me to speak. I remembered then; Mark didn’t really joke. He took himself much too seriously and as I stared into his eyes, I knew that he was being sincere.

I shook my head, “After everything you’ve done, you seriously expect me to give you another chance?”

He sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

I stood up then. I was done listening. “Bye, Mark. Have a nice life.”

“Please,” he said standing up, “Just give me another chance.” His voice was louder than intended and a few patrons turned towards us curiously looking on.

He immediately lowered his advice and said, “Come on, Syd. We were good together.”

I felt like I had been slapped as I recoiled back and away from him. I didn’t believe what I had just heard. He wanted a second chance. I could have my marriage back. Everything could go back the way it was. Is that what I wanted? I didn’t know. I was suddenly unsure about every decision I made concerning Mark. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself. I needed space.

I shook my head as if to clear it, grabbed my purse and walked away leaving him standing there. I could feel his eyes on me and a few onlookers. I didn’t care.

I walked up to my car, still in disbelief as I slid behind the wheel. I just sat there not really thinking of anything but feeling as if my brain were on fire. A few minutes later, all I felt was outrage, not pain, not regret, just anger. How dare he! I said to myself. He dropped such a load on me. Now he was sorry? Now he regretted divorcing me? I was livid, as I placed my hands on the steering wheel and realized that they were shaking. I was so angry with him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to kick something.

But I couldn’t drive angry. I had to be safe. I took a few calming breaths and started the car. I pushed thoughts of Mark out of my mind as I drove back home. I wondered briefly if I should tell Chris. I didn’t really see what purpose that would serve. Mark wasn’t Chris’ problem. Come to think of it, Mark wasn’t my problem either. He was no longer my problem when he divorced me.

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