Page 86 of Phishing for Love
He gulps in air, floundering, then he stutters, “It’s, uh, not what you think.”
“How pathetically unoriginal.”
My throat tightens as I stare into the face of the man I thought I loved, the man I gave a year of my life to. A whimper breaks out of my throat. The pain of his betrayal is threatening to outweigh the anger, and I can’t allow that to happen.
For an instant, I imagine tipping the steaming bowl of Pad Thai sitting on the table into a very strategic spot in Nathan’s lap. I tell myself I’d be doing all the Tesses and Kates of the world a favor. But I force myself to rise above my pettiness. Instead, I pick up the full glass of wine on the table and throw it into his face.
Dimly, I’m aware of the gasps and whispers and shocked stares of people lured closer by the promise of a juicy spectacle. For once in my life, however, I don’t care about making a scene. I might care in the cold, hard light of tomorrow, but right now, I’m too full of hurt and rage to worry about future regrets.
I’m only vaguely aware of Aaron sticking close to my side. Why, I don’t know. Maybe he senses my reckless frame of mind. Maybe he wants to stop me from doing something monumentally stupid. Which I feel fully capable of right now. Especially as I can’t stop glaring at Melissa, the sniveling coward, who’s crouching wide-eyed behind the picnic table. Yes, she should be scared. I’m eyeing that perky ponytail with a savage desire to lop it off.
“Tess, babe, please calm down,” Nathan entreats me, wine dripping down his face, staining the blue shirt I bought him for his birthday last year.
A red mist of pain and temper descends upon me. The unbelievable gall to call mebabewhen he’s with another woman.I lunge forward and aim a solid kick at my no-good, back-stabbing ex-boyfriend. Nathan yelps in pain and clutches his leg. I draw back my foot for another satisfying kick, but Aaron wraps both arms around me from behind and holds me tight against his chest.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he says in a low voice.
I kick out and squirm to be set free. “Let me go!”
Tightening his hold, Aaron murmurs into my ear, “You don’t want him calling the cops.”
“I don’t care. Let him call them.”
“Tess, please, let’s talk,” Nathan continues to beg.
“Now you’re interested in talking, you cheating—”
I’m still yelling insults as Aaron lifts me bodily off the ground and hauls me away from the gathering crowd of onlookers. Away from the dinner I was so looking forward to. Away from Nathan and the woman he’s replaced me with.
Then I’m no longer yelling because, to my surprise, I’m crying.
“He was eating Pad Thai,” I sob. “Did you see?”
“I saw,” Aaron confirms gently.
“That’s my dish.”
“It’s still your dish.”
“No, it’s not. Just like he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
He’s silent as he carries my sobbing, dead weight into the quietest section of the park. In the rational part of my brain not overwhelmed by heartache, I realize Aaron had no choice but to intervene, that I was seriously losing it and he needed to save me from myself.
When we’re surrounded by trees and away from gossip-hungry eyes, Aaron loosens his hold, so my feet are able to touch the ground. He carefully turns me around and pulls me to him, his arms encircling me.
“You’ll be okay,” he reassures me, his lips pressed against my hair as I weep into his chest. “You might not believe it now, but you’ll be okay.”
Aaron drives me home in his car, insisting I’m in no state to drive. He’s probably right. He keeps throwing worried glances my way as I sit, silent and slumped, in the passenger seat of his Mustang. At one point, he assures me he’ll make a plan to fetch my car tomorrow. I shrug. At present, I feel too numb to care about anything, least of all my car.
When Aaron pulls in front of my house without any directions from me, I ask, “How do you know where I live?”
“I’m a details man.”
He follows me inside. I head straight to the kitchen, grab the water jug from the fridge, and try to pour myself a glass of water. But my hands are shaking too much and water sloshes over the rim and onto the counter.
“Let me help.” Aaron takes the jug from me and fills up my glass. He pours water for himself as well and leans against the counter to drink it, his attention staying on me.
“Thanks.” My throat is sore from yelling and crying and the water helps soothe it. After nearly a minute of silence, I ask Aaron in a hoarse voice, “Why were you trying to protect Nathan?”
