chapter 2
If my life were a movie, it would be a disaster film, and this would be the long, slow-motion shot of my impending doom.
As the clinic door clicked shut, it felt like a guillotine dropping. With the sole audience membermy momgone, Sean finally dropped the act.
He put down the pen he hadn't been using to write my chart. The cool, aloof doctor, with his smoldering eyes hidden behind silver-rimmed glasses, let out a cold laugh. "Well, well, Aria. You've really outdone yourself. Whos the father?"
"It's only been two months, and you're already pregnant."
"That person who texted me was right. You really are a" He stopped himself. "Forget it. From now on, we go our separate ways. You're just a patient. It has nothing to do with me."
His voice was laced with ice.
I was completely lost. What text? What was he talking about? Had Sean fallen for a phishing scam?
As God is my witness, my heart belonged to Sean and Sean alone!
Okay, so maybe I was a little wild before I met him.
Our first meeting was hardly the stuff of romance novels. Id just finished a hellish project for a client and decided to celebrate by hitting a male stripper club with some friends. But our GPS, in its infinite wisdom, led us to a classy, quiet cocktail bar instead. We didn't bother checking the sign and just went in.
The place had style, I'll give it that. But my tastes are a little less refined. After a quick scan of the menu, I ordered a Jgerbomb.
As luck would have it, Sean was one of the bars investors and happened to be there that night. When he brought our drinks, he offered a friendly warning: "Mixing caffeine and alcohol isn't a great idea. It can cause heart palpitations"
By then, my friends had already plied me with several rounds. I was seeing double. All I registered was a ridiculously hot guy standing in front of me. I grabbed his hand. "Whoa, the talent in this place is top-notch! How much for a night?"
"Damn, look at these hands, these abs premium quality."
I don't remember much, but my friends later told me I didn't just grope him; I tried to wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. They were so mortified they wanted to crawl into a hole and pretend they didnt know me.
The next day, when I sobered up and learned of my transgressions, I was mortified too. But I couldn't get his face out of my head. So, I shamelessly went back to the bar to "apologize," which mostly consisted of me tugging on his sleeve and trying to get another look at his pecs.
After I'd stalked him for ten days straight, Sean finally had enough. He cornered me in an alley behind the bar. "Aria, are you here to apologize or to harass me?"
I just giggled.
"If you're with me, no more male strippers," he said, laying down his terms.
"And no ogling other guys. Can you do that?"
"Of course! From now on, my heart is all yours," I vowed.
Honestly, that night was the first and only time I'd ever considered going to a male stripper club. It was just a whim. But then I stumbled upon the man of my dreams, and I hadn't looked at another guy since.
I was the one who said the harsh words, but Sean was the one who initiated the breakup.
His reason was: "I'm too busy with work at the hospital. I don't have enough time for you. I don't want to hold you back."
What a load of crap.
Of course, I had to fire back with something equally cutting. I had to win the breakup.
But now, he was accusing me of cheating, and it had something to do with a text message?
There was definitely more to this story.
The reason I hadnt tried to get Sean back these past two months was because I wanted my freedom.
It wasn't until after we started dating that he told me his real job was a doctor.
The biggest problem with having a doctor for a boyfriend is the constant health policing.
Other couples hold hands and sip iced milk tea on a hot day. Sean would stop me, explain how cold drinks on a hot day were a direct invasion of the lungs, and hand me a thermos of ginger-date tea instead.
When I ordered takeout, I craved spicy, greasy things like Sichuan hot pot and barbecue skewers. He would calmly list all the ways those foods increased my risk of various diseases until I guiltily cancelled my order.
So, when he broke up with me, as baffling as it was, a part of me was relieved. I was finally free to indulge in a paradise of fried chicken, late-night street food, ice-cold beer, and spicy crawfish. No more pinching my nose and choking down the "health tonics" he brought home from the hospital pharmacy.
The harsh words were just a front, a way to keep him from coming back and finding me binge-watching shows at 3 a.m. with a pile of takeout containers.
For the past two months, my social media has been a curated gallery of heartbreak. I posted angsty song lyrics, stuff like "How Could You Bear to Hurt Me" and "Thinking of You All Night."
But in reality, without his watchful eye, I was living my best, unhealthiest life. I'd tried every single pre-packaged meal from the convenience store near my apartment. I ate everythingicy, scalding, greasyand stayed up until all hours.
And now, here I was.
My plan had been to eat my fill and then go crawling back to him.
But of course, fate had other plans.
Seriously, if Id known I was going to run into my ex, I would not have worn my My Melody pajama set underneath my clothes. The cartoon rabbits big, innocent eyes were staring up from my chest, giving it a ridiculously comical look. I was going for a quirky vibe.
But! Every time I saw Sean before, I dressed to kill. I wanted his eyes glued to me. Lace, ribbons, silk that clung to every curve, g-strings with pearl embellishmentsyou name it, I wore it.
If he found out this was my actual taste in underwear, I would die of shame.