Chapter 2
My mind made up, I grab the bonbons and the Toblerone, while fully ignoring the heart-shaped boxes on the Valentine-themed shelf.
Stupid boxes in stupid shapes covered in cringeworthy messages of love.
I turn and lug myself toward the booze aisle, where I pick up two bottles of red wine and drop them into my basket.
Hannah? I hear a sudden voice behind me.
I look over my shoulder in shock to find myself staring directly into Dante’s ocean-coloured eyes.
My mouth goes dry and my heart rate picks up when my gaze falls on the person standing next to him.
He brought his pigeon-of-paradise to the supermarket.
She’s swapped her wild plumage for a flowy blouse and a prim pencil skirt tailored to her tiny waist. Her white-blonde hair is long, styled in smooth waves floating around her shoulders.
Her towering stilettos make her quite a bit taller than I am.
If you were passing her in the street, you’d never guess she’s the type to saunter around in a Big Bird costume and spend time in storage rooms with her high heels dug into someone else’s boyfriend’s ass.
And she’s beautiful. Stunning, really. Me?
I look like a Christmas tree dumped by the side of the road in the new year.
This day can take a hike.
Dante. I give him a short nod and I’m about to move along when he grabs me by the arm. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he gives me a guilty look.
Hannah, how have you been? He seems genuinely concerned.
I’ve been absolutely fantastic, thanks.
I want to rip my arm from his grip, but Dante steps right in front of me. Big Bird is watching us, her blue eyes flicking from Dante to me and back again.
Hannah, I want to apologize for what happened between us.
I raise my eyebrows. I’m sorry, ‘happened’?
! I ask, and my gaze falls on the box of heart chocolates that Big Bird is holding in her perfectly manicured hands.
I glare at him as a rush of rage courses through my body.
How dare he, right here in the middle of the grocery store, just casually toss out an apology?
As if he’s apologizing for breaking my favourite coffee cup instead of my heart.
We never meant to . . . he continues.
I’m getting angrier by the second. As I tighten my hand into a fist around the handle of my shopping basket, I give him such a furious look that his eyes go wide. He snaps his mouth shut.
You never ‘meant to’? I repeat quietly. My throat feels like it’s being squeezed tight.
I swallow the uncomfortable feeling and continue.
You never ‘meant to’?! My voice is a lot louder this time and a few aisles over I hear a little kid burst into frightened tears.
Exactly what did you never ‘mean to,’ Dante?
You never ‘meant to' ring in the new year with your party nuts on full display?
You never ‘meant to’ leave me standing around holding your drink for half an hour while you were off plucking poultry?
You never ‘meant to’ cheat on me for six whole months? !
Dante stares at me wide-eyed while I completely lose it. We’re slowly attracting an audience.
Hannah, please . . . Not here . . .
You know where you can shove your excuses, Dante?!
Hannah . . .
Up your ass! Or up hers. I nod at Big Bird who looks positively stunned. But my ass? You can forget about that.
I spin around and head toward the check-out lanes, prying eyes watching me as I go. It’s not until my last purchase is scanned and I feel multiple sets of eyes boring into my back that I realize what I’ve done. Looks like I’ll be biking a little farther away from home for groceries from now on.
The Toblerone bar is all gone now, the only bonbons left in the box are three gross ones with the orange cream filling, and my wine glass is empty for the third time tonight.
Jasmine and her big brown eyes are gazing at me from the other end of the couch.
Black curls bounce around her heart-shaped face and she’s chewing on the last hazelnut-filled bonbon.
I picked a thriller for our weekly movie night, but it’s failing to hold our attention.
Oh my God, Jas, it was so humiliating. I fill my glass again and take a big swig.
I actually think it’s great that you did that, Jasmine replies. He had it coming. I feel like you humiliated him way more than you did yourself.
I pull one corner of my mouth up into a smirk and shake my head. Were you not listening to me just now? I was screaming. At the grocery store. When I was walking out, a little kid ducked for cover under their mom’s coat.
I think back to my tirade, deeply humiliated as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I hate Dante. How did he get it into his harebrained head to show his sorry face at my neighbourhood supermarket?
Isn’t there some kind of unwritten rule about minimizing any non-essential encounters with your ex for at least the first few months after a break up?
Buying your pet parrot a box of heart-shaped chocolates at the local grocery store hardly counts as essential.
That self-righteous ass hasn’t picked up his stuff yet, either. His tasseled loafers alone are taking up half of my closet.
Hold on, didn’t you give him a one-day deadline to pick up his things? Jasmine gives me an inquisitive look as a sly twinkle appears in her eyes. That same twinkle led to us kidnapping Sherlock Bones last year—her ex did not deserve that wiener dog.
Sure did, I reply, returning her gaze with a calculating look. I hope her master plan is a little more legal this time.
I noticed a Salvation Army donation bin at the end of the street. How would you feel about tossing his little Armani suits and Gucci shoes in there?
The corners of my mouth curl up. It isn’t the kind of thing I’d usually consider doing, but there’s an entire bottle of wine sloshing around in my stomach at this point and I did give Dante a deadline.
Missing deadlines always comes with consequences—or at least that’s what a teacher once told me with a smile as he ripped up the essay I’d turned in two minutes too late.
I throw back my last splash of wine and plonk the glass back down on the table.
Let’s go.
It’s not gonna fit, Jas, I groan, channeling all my pent up frustration into ramming the final garbage bag of clothes into the donation bin. I turn around and try shoving it with my back instead.
Jeez, I can’t believe how many clothes Dante owns. Kardashian, much? Letting out a deep sigh, Jasmine uses her sleeve to mop the sweat from her forehead. I don’t understand how he hasn’t been missing his entire wardrobe. What has he been wearing for the past two weeks?
No clue . . . I reply, panting. But knowing Dante’s shopping addiction, my guess is he just bought himself some new things. I take a big inhale. Hnnnggg.
Do you ladies need a hand? The voice is coming from somewhere off to the side.
I look over my shoulder and recognize the busker who’s always singing around downtown Utrecht to cover his room and board.
My gaze lands on his friendly, bearded face, then travels to his fingerless gloves.
He’s holding his guitar case. There are holes in his polyester coat that I highly doubt is warm enough for winter.
Slowly relaxing my legs, I stand upright.
I was clearing out the closet and this last bag won’t fit. Any chance you’d be interested? There’s some really good stuff in here. I think some of it’s only been worn once.
The man stares at us, stunned. Do I look like I need clothes? he asks, eyebrows raised, and an embarrassed expression washes over his face. He smooths out the jeans he’s wearing. They’re way too big on him and clearly worn out.
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Shit. I didn’t mean to insult him.
Oh, um . . . No, not at all . . . I stutter. But you asked us if we needed a hand and the bin is full, so . . . You’d be doing us a huge favour by taking these clothes off our hands . . .
The man thinks about that for a moment until he breaks into a beaming smile. His teeth are astonishingly white.
I suppose I could take a peek, at least, he shrugs. He’s trying to act casual, but there’s an eagerness in his eyes when I hand him the garbage bag.
This one’s the jackpot. First out of the bag is Dante’s expensive cashmere winter coat and the man’s eyes go wide in amazement. Taking off his own coat, he slips into the warm piece of clothing instead. A shiver runs through his body and he gives me a look of pleasant surprise.
Are you sure you don’t want to keep it? It seems like it’s brand new. He looks down to study the sleeves of Dante’s former coat. It fits him like a glove.
I’m flooded with warmth at the sight of his joy.
Absolutely positive, I reply. Dante can shove his consumerism up his ass, along with his apology.