Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Eloise
I walk into The Urban Acre and stop at the hostess. She’s a cute little redhead who appears frazzled as if it’s her first day on the job.
“I have a reservation under Corbin for two.”
“Oh, your party is already here, but he said it should’ve been under Somerset.” Her head tilts with an expression as if to say, “you’re so silly.”
I glance into the restaurant. Sure enough, Tristan is sitting at a table for two against the wall, his thumbs roaming over the screen of his phone.
“It’s Corbin, and I see my party. Thank you.”
I stalk across the room, reprimanding myself for taking out my aggression with Tristan on an innocent hostess.
“Tristan,” I say, my hand landing on the chair across from him.
He looks up, pockets his phone, and shifts his body to stand.
I raise my hand and pull out my own chair. “I have it.”
I’m sure it’s only habit for him to pull out my chair at this point. A Somerset is raised to always pull out the chairs of ladies, after all. I sit in my chair and keep my purse tucked into my lap.
“Oh, I forgot, you’re an independent woman now.” He rolls his eyes. His skin is a darker bronze, and his hair is painted with more highlights than before the ceremony.
“Let’s just have this conversation.” I sit up straighter. “I’m sor?—”
“Actually, I’d like to start.”
I inwardly growl. “Fine.” I hold my hand out over the table, motioning for him to take the floor.
“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.”
“I should’ve known it was Penelope’s doing.” He sips his scotch again.
The waitress brings over a basket of fresh bread, but neither of us touch it.
“It’s not her fault.” I lean forward. “I was ready to call it off before Conor busted in.”
“I just love how you refer to him by name now.” He finishes his scotch and slides the glass onto the table.
There is no way this conversation will go smoothly if he’s finished his drink in five minutes.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I am. And I wish I’d had the courage to talk to you about how I felt before we were at the altar, but let me ask you something. Do you even love me? Think hard before you answer, Tristan. Would you die for me?”
He laughs so loudly some of the other guests peer over. “That’s so cliché, Eloise.”
“It’s really not.”
“Okay, I’d take a bullet for you,” he mocks me.
“Fine. I’ll put it this way…” I take another deep breath and clench my fists under the table. “I left you at the altar because I want more than you’re willing to offer me. I want to be number one.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I want to be taken seriously. My wants and needs weren’t being met with you, and when I tried to talk to you about it over the years, you weren’t interested in hearing me. You crushed me under that big thumb of yours our entire relationship, and I think you honestly thought it would work.”
“What would work?” He picks up his empty scotch glass and wiggles it in the air to the waitress who’s walking to a neighboring table. I absolutely hate when he does that. It’s so condescending.
“Keep pushing me down. Keep putting me in my place. I wanted to make you happy, so I did everything you asked. I wasn’t even the woman you fell in love with anymore.”
The waitress brings over a refill, and he studies me. “You’re not now.”
“I am. What I’m doing right now is the woman you met. I was independent, had dreams and wants in life. Maybe it was a little here and a little here, I don’t know, but at some point, the person I used to be was gone, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late. Until…” I can’t say that it wasn’t until another man brought out a side of me I didn’t know still existed. “I was standing in the doorway of the church about to walk down the aisle, and I knew that neither of us would be happy in the marriage. Do you even realize that you didn’t look at me until I was halfway down the aisle?”
“I guess I didn’t know that was the standard, the groom watching the bride walk down the whole aisle. Merrick told a joke, and it was funny.”
I sip my wine. More like drain half the glass. Nothing is going to be accomplished tonight. “I’m sorry, Tristan. You picked the wrong girl. I can’t fit in your box. I can’t slide into your life in the way that you want. I can’t just be by your side as a decoration to dust off when needed. I want more for myself than to be Tristan Somerset’s wife.”
He tears off a piece of bread and picks up his knife to spread the butter. My gaze goes back to the bar, and the woman I noticed earlier is now talking to a man two stools down. He’s wearing a baseball hat and a jacket with the collar up even though it’s ninety degrees outside today. They almost seem to be in a heated argument.
“I turned down a lot of women who would’ve loved the life I was going to give you.” He bites the bread aggressively.
“Well, maybe you can look some of them up now.” I dig into my purse and pull out the key, sliding it across the table. “Here’s the key for the house.”
“Keep it as a souvenir. Obviously I changed the locks after you left my takeout containers out to spoil. How childish can you get? And the sign in the pool? Grow up. Do I have to remind you that I was the one who was left at the altar?”
“I wouldn’t have left you if you would have respected me.” I’m seething, but there’s no point in arguing with him about this. He’s never going to see my side of things.
“My mom is sending the wedding gifts back.” He ignores my comment.
“Fine. Thank her for me. I understand if your family wants me to pay them back for all the money that was lost?—”
“Are you kidding me? The only thing worse than you ditching me at the altar would be people finding out that my family forced you to pay us back like we’re paupers.”
I have to clamp down my jaw, so I don’t say something insulting back. I just nod. “Is there anything else?”
He puts the half-eaten piece of bread on the plate and sits back, his eyes on me for an uncomfortable minute. He huffs and lets out a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I suppose you make some good points. Maybe I’m not ready for a wife.”
“I should have spoken up sooner.”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure I would have listened.”
“You didn’t.”
“Okay, I was being nice, trying not to end up as enemies.”
The waitress brings our dishes over and slides them in front of us.
I grab her attention before she leaves. “Actually, can I have a to-go container please?”
“You can’t even have a meal with me?”
I look over at the bar again, seeing the man and woman glancing over their shoulders, their sunglasses not doing anything to disguise them. I can’t believe they followed me here.
“I think it’s best we end this as amicably as we can,” I say.
The waitress brings over my takeout container, and I put the salad in it. I reach for my purse, and Tristan stops cutting his steak bites.
“I got it.” He sets his silverware on the plate.
This is it. This is likely the last time I’ll see him. I can’t explain the sadness filling me like a vase with water being poured into it. I wanted this. I needed this, but Tristan was a big part of my life for so many years. He listened to the eulogy I wrote for my dad. He stood by my side at my dad’s funeral as the casket was lowered into the ground. He held me for nights afterward, telling me everything would be okay.
I stand, and he slides out of his chair to stand in front of me.
The two fools at the bar are now watching us over their shoulders.
“Have a great life, Eloise.” Tristan opens his arms.
I step into them and hug him back. It doesn’t make me feel warm or safe. It’s just a transaction, as if it’s sealing the end to our relationship.
“I’m sure your Mrs. Tristan Somerset is out there somewhere.”
“I think I’ll be putting pause on that for a while.”
I smile and nod, stepping back from him. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Goodbye, Tristan.”
“Goodbye, Eloise Corbin .” He winks.
I turn around, heading out of the restaurant. It’s done and over, but I wasn’t expecting this grief mingled with relief inside me. I hate the feeling of hope woven around a layer of failure, as if I don’t deserve the opportunity of rediscovering myself.
I stop at a light post once I’m out of the restaurant, leaning my back on it and waiting until they walk out. “Hello, Jade. Hello, Conor. Enjoy your meal?”