7. Zara
ZARA
Goose bumps prickle my skin, the once hot bath water rapidly cooling. A telling silence replaces the playlist I was listening to when I stepped into the water.
Oh. Shit. I fell asleep, and now I’ll be late for my date with Joseph unless I haul ass.
I awkwardly push to my feet, my muscles stiff from the cooling water. Droplets slide down my body, stumbling over goose bumps and making things worse.
I shouldn’t have had the bath. I should have stuck with a shower.
Shivering, I climb out of the tub, towel-dry, and moisturize my body. Then I slip on the silk pants, cami, and shirt. The dip of the neckline reveals the teasing mounds of my breasts.
I’m a goddess. No man can resist me.
No man other than Garrett. But it’s not Garrett I plan to seduce tonight.
I wipe the condensation from the mirror and apply my eye makeup with a smoky touch. To top it off, my lipstick sparkles with hints of gold.
Hey, Golden Girl.
Garrett’s deep voice rumbles in my head. Nope. Not happening. Now’s not the time to think about my best friend. Joseph—that’s who I need to focus on. My boyfriend. The man I have a chance at a future with. A future with happy kids and a loving husband.
It’s not that I’m looking for a husband or to have kids yet. I have a few more years until my biological clock is a concern. My main focus now is my business. My main focus is how I can benefit the community to make it a better place for the children I’ll have one day.
I check the time on my phone. I’m running a few minutes late, but I’m sure Joseph won’t be too annoyed. He’ll probably be on his phone, too busy to even notice my tardiness.
I slip on a pair of glittery-black stilettos and confidently stride to the elevator…only to remember it’s out of order.
Dammit.
I head for the stairs and descend them as quickly as possible in four-inch heels. But even then, it takes me longer than I had allowed for. I send Joseph a text.
Me: On my way. Running a few minutes behind.
I arrive at the restaurant five minutes late. Joseph hasn’t responded to my text.
La Brezza Ristorante is the fanciest restaurant Maple Ridge has to offer.
It’s a pale comparison to what you find in large cities, but maybe that’s why I love it so much.
The food is delicious and the ambiance is cozy and quaint, like a courtyard restaurant in Italy or Spain.
The exposed brick walls only add to the sentiment.
The hostess is my age with curly auburn hair and an easy smile. “Hi, Zara. He’s already at your table.”
“Thanks, Aria.” As predicted, he’s on his phone, his back to the entrance. He’s wearing a light-blue dress shirt that fits his broad shoulders just right. “I see him.”
“I heard about what happened at Picnic & Treats this afternoon. Are you okay?”
“I am, thanks.” I hope what happened is the first step for the man and his family to get help. I don’t know him. Perhaps he is a decent, loving person when he’s sober. The key word being when .
A subtle, clean floral scent wafts in the air, just noticeable among the delicious food aromas. The scent is coming from…
“Are you wearing perfume?” I ask Aria. “I like it. It’s really pretty.”
“Thank you. I made it myself. I recently started my own home business and make various perfumes and scented products.”
We talk for another minute about her new enterprise, then I make my way to Joseph’s table. The restaurant is busy for a Thursday night during offseason, with most of the tables occupied.
“The woman claims she has chronic pain,” he says into his phone.
“Fibromyo-something-or-other. It’s all in her head.
She just doesn’t want to do the work, so the rest of us have to pick up her slack.
And she takes off more sick days than all of us combined.
Hell, I should be paid extra for doing her work…
” There’s a pause as he no doubt listens to whatever the other person has to say, then he chuckles. “You have that right.”
Despite the pain meds I took before coming here, the dull, lingering ache intensifies a notch, and a flare of outrage at his words cuts through me.
I’ve never mentioned the pain to Joseph. Other than when I told my physician several months ago, no one else knows. If I told Joseph, would he claim the pain is all in my head? Or would his opinion be different because he cares about me?
Of course it would. He’s never given you a reason to believe he would be anything but supportive.
The conversation I overheard is a good reason for keeping the pain to myself. Things will improve. All I need to do is take it a little easier. Soak in the bathtub more. Take care when I lift heavy objects at work.
I sit on the chair across from his and mouth, Sorry I’m late .
He gives me an acknowledging nod, his serious expression all business. “Gotta go. See you at work tomorrow.” He ends the call and flashes me a quick smile. A quick smile I’m not usually on the receiving end of. Usually, his smiles are all sexy and alluringly sweet. “Hey. Got your text.”
The waitress fills my water glass. “What can I get you to drink?”
I request a glass of Chardonnay. Joseph already has a pint of beer on the table .
“Do you know what you want to order? Or do you need a few more minutes?” she asks.
Joseph and I place our orders, and she leaves. I put my hands in front of me on the table, waiting for him to take them like he did on our last date, but his hands stay wrapped around his beer. Okay, then.
That’s all right. I’ve got other ways to seduce him into my bed tonight. “How was your day?”
“It was good. Yours?”
I tell him what happened, minimizing the part where I stepped between the man and his daughter.
A frown crinkles across his forehead. The more I tell him, the deeper the crease gets.
If he were Garrett, he would give me the caveman speech about putting myself at risk.
How I wasn’t a Marine. And it was the job of men like him to keep women safe. Yada, yada, yada.
Joseph’s callous words about his coworker’s chronic pain lurch into my thoughts. Would he have stepped in to protect me? Would he have stepped in to protect the girl?
I brush the doubt aside. Of course he would have. You don’t have to be a Marine to do something like that, as I’ve proved. It’s just human decency.
“Was anyone hurt?” His frown eases.
“Just a chair. The police came before things could get uglier.” Thank the Lord for that .
Joseph releases a hard breath. “That’s good.”
The waitress puts my wineglass on the table.
Joseph picks up his beer. “So…”
Uncertainty rubs along my flesh at the odd way the word trails off. I don’t respond, waiting to see where the sentence meanders to. It’s not like Joseph to be without words.
Don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know what’s going on in his head.
It could be he’s still processing what happened to me this afternoon. Lord knows I’m reliving the moment in my head, thinking of better ways I could have dealt with the situation. Wondering what will become of the girl and her family.
“So,” he repeats, tone more determined this time, and something about his voice has my heart sinking. “I’ve been thinking about us. You and Me. And where I see us going…”
Freaking wonderful. This conversation could go one of two ways. He’s on the same wavelength as me and thinks we should get down and dirty.
Or…
“It’s been fun. But this thing between us has been moving too fast. I think we need to end it.”
Too fast? If we went any slower, we’d be going backward.
“Too fast? I’m a little lost here. Is this because I want to have…” I glance to the nearest table, gauging how much the man and woman seated at it can hear. “Sex?”
The word is whispered but at the same time it feels like I’ve screamed it. The attention of the older woman sitting near Joseph darts my way. Her eyebrows disappear behind black-rim glasses and gray-curtain bangs.
Absolutely freaking wonderful . I’m about to be dumped in a restaurant in front of witnesses. Couldn’t he have just dumped me via text? Crass? Yes. But a lot less humiliating than this.
He clears his throat and shifts on his chair. “No. Not at all. It’s just I bumped into my ex-wife the other day…”
I blink, positive I’m in a twisted, modern-day episode of The Twilight Zone . “Ex. Wife? What ex-wife? You never mentioned you used to be married.” Hell, he didn’t even have a tan line on his finger from his wedding band.
“We’ve been divorced two years.” There’s a sadness about him I hadn’t noticed until now.
“But you’ve never gotten over her,” I finish for him, kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.
Shit , why do I fall for emotionally unavailable men…the ones still in love with their exes?
I hadn’t fallen yet for Joseph, but the reality of what he just told me still stings. Stings with the force of a dozen wasp bites.
After what I overheard him say about his colleague, I shouldn’t be all that disappointed. Maybe he did me a favor, saving me from greater heartbreak when he tells me the pain in my body is all in my head .
The woman at the next table sends me a look of pity, getting a side order of entertainment with her pasta dish.
Right. I fan out my options. I can sit here and eat dinner as if I don’t have a care in the world. I can storm out, cursing men. Not a bad option given the day I’ve had.
Or I can…
I catch our waitress’s eye and wave her over. “Hi. I’m not staying after all. So please pack my dinner to go. And add a slice of the chocolate ganache cake to my order. Thanks.” I point to Joseph. “But he’s paying for it.” It’s the least he can do.
This time the other woman seems to be on the verge of giving me a standing ovation.
If the waitress’s sympathetic expression is any indication, she must have also sensed my date didn’t go as planned. “I’ll bring it right away.” She turns her attention to Joseph. “Are you eating here, or did you also want to take your food to go?”
“I’ll stay.” Only a small amount of regret weighs down his tone. Or maybe it’s just relief.
Either way, I don’t care. I push to my feet. “I’ll be waiting by the hostess stand,” I tell her.
After the day I’ve had, I don’t feel like making small talk with Joseph while I wait for my food. Because that’s all it will be. I don’t need to hear about the woman he’s still in love with. I don’t need to hear why they got divorced. It has nothing to do with me.
I pick up my glass of wine and toss back the contents. Then I walk to the front entrance, my head held beauty-pageant high. On my way there, I deliberate if I should update Simone, Emily, and Jess via our group chat about what happened. Or text Keshia. Or Garrett.
I stomp on the last thought. I don’t feel like discussing with him what happened when I’m positive he’s still in love with Kenda.
In truth, I don’t want to talk about it with anyone. I want to watch some good TV and eat my dinner.
I want to spend the evening doing self-care…and drinking more wine.
But tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll tell my friends about my night and how I didn’t realize Joseph was married. I doubt Keshia or Garrett will be too disappointed by my news. Neither seemed to be a fan of his. Garrett always rolls his eyes at the mention of the man, as if he thought Joseph was an idiot.
He might have had a point there.
Lord, how did I not see it coming that Joseph was planning to dump me?
Am I really that clueless when it comes to men?