Page 49 of My Heart's Doctor
“Put her down!” Orson shouted, blocking his path.
“Don’t get involved in our business,” Cavaller said, glaring at him.
“Our business? We don’t have any business together!” I exclaimed.
“Keep quiet,” he told me.
“I’m warning you, Cavaller, leave her alone or I assure you you’ll regret it.”
I was terrified when I noticed my friend was ready for anything. The last thing I wanted was for them to end up fighting because of me. So, I tried to calm down and defuse the situation.
“Orson, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll let Cavaller take me home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Very well. Let me know as soon as you get home.”
“I will.”
Cavaller, who had continued walking with me in his arms, opened the passenger door of his car and sat me in the seat. Then he walked around the car and got in.
“What is this spectacle supposed to be, Cavaller?” I asked, furious.
“William.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want. Tell me what this means. I warn you that I allowed you to take me because I didn’t want you to have problems with my friend, but…”
“I wasn’t going to have problems with your friend; if anything, he was the one who would have had problems.”
“And there it is, ‘Mr. Conceited.’”
“Mr. what?” he asked, looking at me seriously.
“That’s what you are! A pedantic, arrogant, and vain man who can’t stand being contradicted,” I exclaimed, without controlling what I was saying.
“So that’s what you think of me,” he said, thoughtfully, but continued driving calmly.
For several minutes we remained silent; he was the one who broke it.
“Why didn’t you call me these past days? We had agreed on that.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. And I’ll make it clear that I’m not going to call you ever and I don’t want to see you again.”
He looked at me but said nothing, and that’s how it continued until we reached my building. He parked at the entrance and got out.
“It’s not necessary for you to get out. I appreciate your kindness in bringing me,” I said sarcastically. “Goodbye, Cavaller.”
I headed toward the building entrance and he followed me.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to talk,” he said, looking at me seriously.
“Are you dense or deaf today? I told you I don’t want to…” With a finger pressed to my lips, he prevented me from continuing.
“I see that today I’ve managed to bring out the worst in you. Perhaps it would be good for you to vent and throw in my face everything that’s bothering you, because it’s obvious you’re upset about something.”
