Page 64 of Mr. Swoony

“I should’ve known it was Penelope’s doing.” He sips his scotch again.

The waitress brings over a basket of fresh bread, but neither of us touch it.

“It’s not her fault.” I lean forward. “I was ready to call it off before Conor busted in.”

“I just love how you refer to him by name now.” He finishes his scotch and slides the glass onto the table.

There is no way this conversation will go smoothly if he’s finished his drink in five minutes.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I am. And I wish I’d had the courage to talk to you about how I felt before we were at the altar, but let me ask you something. Do you even love me? Think hard before you answer, Tristan. Would you die for me?”

He laughs so loudly some of the other guests peer over. “That’s so cliché, Eloise.”

“It’s really not.”

“Okay, I’d take a bullet for you,” he mocks me.

“Fine. I’ll put it this way…” I take another deep breath and clench my fists under the table. “I left you at the altar because I want more than you’re willing to offer me. I want to be number one.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I want to be taken seriously. My wants and needs weren’t being met with you, and when I tried to talk to you about it over the years, you weren’t interested in hearing me. You crushed me under that big thumb of yours our entire relationship, and I think you honestly thought it would work.”

“What would work?” He picks up his empty scotch glass and wiggles it in the air to the waitress who’s walking to a neighboring table. I absolutely hate when he does that. It’s so condescending.

“Keep pushing me down. Keep putting me in my place. I wanted to make you happy, so I did everything you asked. I wasn’t even the woman you fell in love with anymore.”

The waitress brings over a refill, and he studies me. “You’re not now.”

“I am. What I’m doing right now is the woman you met. I was independent, had dreams and wants in life. Maybe it was a little here and a little here, I don’t know, but at some point, the person I used to be was gone, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late. Until…” I can’t say that it wasn’t until another man brought out a side of me I didn’t know still existed. “I was standing in the doorway of the church about to walk down the aisle, and I knew that neither of us would be happy in the marriage. Do you even realize that you didn’t look at me until I was halfway down the aisle?”

“I guess I didn’t know that was the standard, the groom watching the bride walk down the whole aisle. Merrick told a joke, and it was funny.”

I sip my wine. More like drain half the glass. Nothing is going to be accomplished tonight. “I’m sorry, Tristan. You picked the wrong girl. I can’t fit in your box. I can’t slide into your life in the way that you want. I can’t just be by your side as a decoration to dust off when needed. I want more for myself than to be Tristan Somerset’s wife.”

He tears off a piece of bread and picks up his knife to spread the butter. My gaze goes back to the bar, and the woman I noticed earlier is now talking to a man two stools down. He’s wearing a baseball hat and a jacket with the collar up even though it’s ninety degrees outside today. They almost seem to be in a heated argument.

“I turned down a lot of women who would’ve loved the life I was going to give you.” He bites the bread aggressively.

“Well, maybe you can look some of them up now.” I dig into my purse and pull out the key, sliding it across the table. “Here’s the key for the house.”

“Keep it as a souvenir. Obviously I changed the locks after you left my takeout containers out to spoil. How childish can you get? And the sign in the pool? Grow up. Do I have to remind you that I was the one who was left at the altar?”

“I wouldn’t have left you if you would have respected me.” I’m seething, but there’s no point in arguing with him about this. He’s never going to see my side of things.

“My mom is sending the wedding gifts back.” He ignores my comment.

“Fine. Thank her for me. I understand if your family wants me to pay them back for all the money that was lost?—”

“Are you kidding me? The only thing worse than you ditching me at the altar would be people finding out that my family forced you to pay us back like we’re paupers.”

I have to clamp down my jaw, so I don’t say something insulting back. I just nod. “Is there anything else?”

He puts the half-eaten piece of bread on the plate and sits back, his eyes on me for an uncomfortable minute. He huffs and lets out a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I suppose you make some good points. Maybe I’m not ready for a wife.”

“I should have spoken up sooner.”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure I would have listened.”

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