“If there’s anything you want me to do for you, let me know.”
I forced a smile. “I will.”
Saph and I bowed our heads, and our foreheads touched. She prayed to God for my body to be restored. I didn’t know if any of it would help, but the gesture was kind.
“Thank you, Saph,” I said after we shared a minute of silence.
“Look at us. We’re insane, right?” Saph laughed, shoving her phone at me. On the screen was a photo of us years back, all wild hair and reckless grins, before Alistair ever entered my orbit.
Did I regret meeting him? No. But if I ran into him now, on the street, at some glossy cocktail party, I couldn’t say if I’d stop or keep walking.
After coffee, I ducked into a convenience store. That’s when I saw it. Alistair’s face. Splashed across the glossy cover of a lifestyle magazine, his arm draped around the same woman I’d spotted months ago in that smug Caribbean cruise post.
Meet Alistair Scott’s new fiancée, actress Rebecca Ross.
Picking up the magazine, I flicked through the pages until I found the article about Alistair and Rebecca. They announced their engagement after a whirlwind romance on the cruise ship. She came into his life when I needed him most. “I’m hoping Alistair and I can start a family after the wedding,” Rebecca said in the article.
It hurt to see him with a woman who appeared unmarked by the misery of life’s injustices. The article revealed Rebecca planned an extravagant birthday bash for him on February seventeenth. I was not invited to the party. The man who was once my lover was getting married. How quickly men like Alistair moved on. Such is the bitterness of cruel love.
Alistair
Friday, February 24
“I don’t care what the report says. You will not launch any new technology without a successful field trial,” I barked at a colleague before abruptly ending the conversation.
Placing my cellphone in my trouser pocket, I walked out of the office and headed toward a market florist’s stall on the city’s riverside. I wanted to thank Rebecca for the birthday party she hosted for me last week. “How much are those tulips?” I asked the vendor, pointing at the most vibrant bunch of flowers on the stand.
“These? Oh, they’re?—”
A tall woman with caramel hair, sniffing a bouquet of roses at a nearby stall, caught my attention. I recognized Vera by her stance and how she rolled her hips to one side when she relaxed.
Roses. Vera always loved roses.
I watched her dark eyes look up as she gave an enigmatic smile to the street vendor. Her Mona Lisa visage radiated and affected the man, now grinning from ear to ear.
Sweetheart, I’ve missed you.
“Sir?”
“Huh?” I snapped back to the man talking to me. “No, sorry, maybe another day.”
My eyes were glued to the olive-skinned beauty, watching her every move and not wanting her to disappear into thin air. I marched as fast as I could to Vera, rushing past the crowd of passers-by who had finished work and headed in all directions toward the train station, bus stop, city mall, or the local bar.
“Vera.” My heart leapt at the sight of her, giving me palpitations. She had an incredible effect on my emotions. She looked around before our eyes met. At first, they were stone cold; then, they warmed up a little when she forced a smile.
“Alistair? Hey, fancy seeing you here. It’s been a while,” Vera greeted, placing her hands in her pockets. She stepped back when I leaned forward, hoping to kiss her cheek.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine. Isn’t it strange to still call mesweetheart?” Vera asked, lifting her left eyebrow.
“Why?” I demanded, furrowing my brows.
“You’re getting married,” she reminded me. She paused and bit her lip.Damn it, woman.
I placed my thumb on her lower lip, tracing its contour. “Are you trying to seduce a man who’s about to get married? It’s when you bite your lip, you see...”
“Scotty, you can’t do this. Cheaters aren’t my thing,” Vera said, and removed my thumb from her lip.
