Page 2 of Falling Madly
Contemplating my options, I glanced through the restaurant window, and that was when time slowed down. All the way down. I’m talking about one of those movie scenes where bullets hang suspended in midair. There he was—Richard,my boyfriend of nine months—with his arm around a blonde woman.
My brain went into overdrive. In two seconds flat, I’d cataloged everything: the way he guided her to the window booth, all protective-like, and the way he brushed his nose against the collar of her oversized coat. It was intimate. Familiar. And nauseating.
I was in no way clairvoyant, but I knew what would happen. Yet, I couldn’t look away.
“Why’re we watching your boyfriend snogging another woman?”
I jumped at Trevor’s Scottish baritone. My head whipped around to confirm it really was him. Yes. The colleague I avoided like it was an Olympic sport stood right behind me, witnessing my humiliation.
My heart pounding like a jackhammer, I turned back to the window where the mortifying scene was developing into an X-rated show. Richard wasn’t just kissing the woman. He was gobbling her up like a cartoon character attacking a lamb shank. They sat on the same side of the booth, both still in their overcoats, clawing at each other like they’d been waiting for this opportunity all day.
How was this possible? I’d talked to him this morning, confirming the reservation for tonight.
Thanks, babe. Let’s meet up there. Hope you got a good table.
What was I missing? Was there a hidden meaning to that text? My eyes burned and my legs felt like fence posts, bolted to the sidewalk, as I continued to stare at the window. They didn’t even come up for air. People needed air, right?
I was vaguely aware of Trevor clearing his throat, but I couldn’t move. My brain had connected another dot: I knew the woman. It was the ex—Carolyn. The one he always complainedabout. But I could tell he wasn’t thinking of her flaws now. He didn’t really care how she loaded the dishwasher (front to back, the maniac) or randomly pumped the gas pedal. He was probably obsessed with her perfect blonde waves and talon-like white nails. She looked like a dying bird clawing at his ponytail.
For her, he’d probably cut off the ponytail, his symbol of rebellion among the finance guys. She was tugging at it with borderline violence, so maybe Carolyn and I agreed on this one detail. If you’d had a ponytail since you were sixteen, it was a symbol of inertia, not rebellion.
“I thought you guys were exclusive.” Trevor’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I shut my eyes, wishing to erase his pesky existence. Of all the days in my life, most of them filled with work and nothing else, why did this have to be the day Trevor appeared in the flesh? He belonged in my chat window. I could handle him there. I almost liked him there—a friend I could ignore at will and bring up when needed.
I took a breath, keeping my voice level. “Me, too.”
There was no way for me to save face, even if I avoided looking at him. Also, it wasn’t my fault Richard was currently cheating on me, was it? He was cheating on me one block away from my office, which felt deliberate. Was he trying to get caught?
Maybe I should have seen this coming. He’d talked about Carolyn a lot. But people talked about their exes. He’d always framed it as a compliment to me, comparing me to this woman who couldn’t parallel park and cried over doing taxes. I’d stood up for her, reminding him that we each had our weaknesses, slightly terrified of what he’d say when learned about mine. But I’d never thought he’d been hung up on his ex. That’s how blind I was.
“Sorry.” Trevor glared at the window, eyebrows drawing together.
“Save it. I know you hate him.”
“I’m not sorry for Dick. I’m sorry for you.”
“Dick?”
“Ach! I was going for his nickname.”
“Nobody calls him Dick.”
Trevor lifted a brow. “I do, in my head.”
I blew out a breath. “You know what? From now on, I’ll join you.”
“Would you like me to…”
“What? Kick his teeth in?” I huffed, half-laughing at the absurdity.
Not because he couldn’t—Trevor could probably send the guy to an early grave with one hand tied behind his back. But we didn’t have that kind of relationship. At least, I didn’t think we did.
Trevor looked unfazed. “Aye.” He peeled off his gloves and cracked his giant knuckles. “Dinnae think of it as a favor. Think of it as somethin’ fun I’ve always wanted to do.”
“You hate him that much, huh?”
“Nae.” He looked like he was about to say something else but changed his mind. “Just happy to help.”
