Page 63 of Mr. Swoony

“Why did a hockey player stop our wedding?”

“Tristan…” I sigh. “Shouldn’t that have been your question, I don’t know, before you went on our honeymoon?” I don’t give him the satisfaction of bringing up the blonde in the picture.

The waitress comes over, and I order a white wine while he orders a scotch.

“After that scene, my parents demanded I go cool myself off and clear my head.”

I huff. “Fair. But you didn’t feel the need to know why I backed out at all? Doesn’t that tell you everything you needed to know?”

“You embarrassed my entire family. You embarrassed your family. I deserved that getaway. Your grandparents have been apologizing profusely to my parents and said they…” He doesn’t finish, but I have an idea what he’s going to say. “Have you talked to them?”

I shake my head, and my chest squeezes. “No.”

The waitress drops off our drinks and asks if we’re going to order any food.

Tristan leans back in his chair and picks up the menu.

“I wasn’t going to eat,” I say.

He tips the menu down and his blue gaze lands on me. “You left me at the altar. The least you can do is share a meal with me.”

A mouse-like sound comes out of the waitress, and I see her eyes are wide when I glance at her.

I pick up my menu and say the first thing I read. “I’ll have the Caprese salad.”

“Watching what you’re eating so that hockey player can throw you around?”

The waitress eyes us both.

I scoot back my chair. “We’re done here, Tristan.”

He lifts off his seat, reaching his arm out to stop me. “I’m sorry. The anger is still there. Obviously.” Without looking at the waitress, he passes the menu to her. “I’ll take the garlic butter steak bites with the asparagus. Make sure there’s extra garlic on the meat.”

I look up at her, and she looks at him like she’d like to roll her eyes, snatching the menu from his hands and walking away.

“Let’s try to be respectful, okay?” I know I hurt him and shocked him by calling off the wedding, but I won’t sit here and take him disrespecting me. Not anymore.

He nods and lowers back down. I do the same and hang my purse on the back of my chair.

A woman crossing the room to the bar grabs my attention. She’s wearing sunglasses and a big hat with a sundress, but there’s something oddly familiar about her.

“I apologize, but you humiliated me, Eloise. Rumors are all over town about what happened. I can’t even show my face anywhere.”

My foot bounces under the table. “It wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t planning on what happened. I am sorry for that.”

He takes a sip of his scotch and twirls the cup in his palm. “Want to tell me who he is?”

“He’s a guy I met the night of my bachelorette party.” I raise my hand before he can interrupt me. “Before you jump to assumptions, nothing happened between us.”

It’s a half truth, I know. Something did happen, but nothing physical, and that’s probably all he cares about. I don’t want to hurt Tristan any more than I already have.

“So, he didn’t want you to marry me because what, you’re such a great conversationalist?” He takes another sip of his scotch. Part of me wants to fire back a comment about what he might have been doing with the stripper from his bachelor party, but I somehow refrain.

“I like to think I can hold a good conversation. At the very least, I’m a good listener since that’s all I ever did with you.” My own annoyance with him shines through.

“Who’s throwing the stones now?”

I take a deep breath, unwinding my silverware from the napkin and placing the napkin in my lap. “I don’t want to go tit for tat, Tristan. I’m sorry for what happened. Yes, I met Conor the night of my bachelorette party, but all he did was help me with Penelope because she was so drunk.”

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