Page 15 of Sweet Tooth
Why, then, were my fingers drumming on the counter, all of my body tensed as though for a fight?
I got out my phone and got dialing. Best thing would be to just get it over with and then be done with him for good. I needed to close this chapter of my life once and for all.
“Jessica?”
“Tamara, hi,” I said. My grip on the phone eased. If Tamara answered, that meant that her vacation to the Cayman Islands had been last week, not this week. “Hate to do this last minute, but is there any chance that you’d be able to look after Parker tonight?”
“Tonight?” Tamara said. “Sure. How could I not? The kid’s an angel.”
We chuckled. Lucky for me, Tamara was a mom herself and a damn good one too. Most miraculously of all, she was able to handle Parker, even though he was far from an angel. It helped that her daughter, Penny, and Parker were best friends.
Tamara and I took turns babysitting for each other, although I usually ended up watching Penny more than the other way around. It wasn’t like I had many other places to be these days.
“Something last minute come up?” Tamara was asking now.
“Yeah. Seeing an old friend,” I said quickly. “Awesome, you’re a lifesaver. Mind if I drop Parker off in about half an hour?”
“Sounds good,” Tamara said. “I’m making ravioli too if Parker wants some.”
“You know how that kid loves Italian,” I said. “Thanks again, see ya.”
Only once I hung up did I notice my hand was trembling.
Just one night, I told myself. Just get through this one night and you’ll never have to see him again. Easy.
As I closed up shop and got in my car, I couldn’t help but think: If it’s that easy, that why was my heart ramming against my chest like a trapped bird trying to escape its cage?
—
Back at home, Parker was only too happy to avoid having leftover pizza the night before. Dropping him off at Tamara’s was a breeze, getting ready for my non-date less so.
I glared at the wasteland of clothes my room had become. Who would’ve thought choosing an outfit for a date I didn’t care about would be such a bitch?
Anything too sexy was off the table. Not that I had the use for much in the way of clothes like that anyway when I lived like a nun. But there was no way I wanted that dick thinking I was dressing up to impress him.
Then again, my shapeless Mom clothes, which made me feel more like a potato than a human, weren’t exactly stellar options either. I didn’t want to look frumpy in front of my seemingly uber-successful ex. I didn’t want him thinking that I’d actually given up, even if I had.
Finally, after flailing through a good third of my closet, I settled on a basic black cocktail dress with black flats and a silver necklace.
Zane had offered to pick me up, but I’d declined. This meeting was going to be short and not-so-sweet, so no point in extending it any longer than absolutely necessary.
The place he’d chosen – Weinkeller – I’d heard of but had never been. I’d bet Tamara and her millionaire husband had been here a bunch of times, though no way was I going to mention it to her. The last thing I needed was for Tamara to know that I was going out with the guy I’d cried on her shoulder about for nearly two damn years.
Only two steps into the brightly lit entranceway and one look at him, and it was obvious. This was very, very bad idea.
Because there he was. A different suit, a different smile. This one I recognized. He was clearly nervous.
This new Zane, all done up in his fancy clothes and coiffed hair, his posture bearing an ease that was new too, this stranger was actually nervous.
I swallowed, tried to dip my hand in my pocket, before remembering my dress didn’t have any.
“You came,” Zane said. “You look great by the way.”
He spoke to my body as his eyes roved down it, as if trying to memorize its shape.
“Thanks,” I said softly. Look away.
Around us, the surroundings weren’t exactly comfort-inducing. With tall white tapering pillars framing the walls and chic décor set around, I felt like I was in an Italian villa more than a restaurant.
“If you two would just follow me,” a maître d’ was saying, presumably having been tipped well by Zane.
I followed him feeling like I was gliding as I took in more of my surroundings.
Under any other circumstances, the place would be perfect for a romantic date with someone you loved. Or at least liked. Just one date, I reminded myself. One date to be done with Zane for good.
After the maître d’ had sat us at a table by the window and taken our, I took a drink of my water. Zane took a sip of his.
