A hurt look covered his face. But it was bullshit. I’d seen that look so many times. I knew he was acting. “Damn, you can’t even sit and have brunch with me?”
“I’ve eaten already.”
“Sit down, Lena,” he ordered, his voice much sterner.
Fuck you.The words stopped dead on my tongue. I wouldn’t make a scene. In all likelihood, that was what Nate wanted. Another scene, so someone in the restaurant could record it and put it online. Then he could go and do another interview about how crazy and unstable I was.
I refused to give him that satisfaction.
Calmly, I sat across from him. I even went so far as to pick up the off-white linen napkin that held my utensils, unwrapping it and placing it on my lap.
Our waitress approached. “Good morning,” she greeted with a concerned smile on her face. “My name is Jude and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”
With a smile, I ordered a cup of green tea and an orange juice. Nate ordered some expensive rum drink they had.
Once our waitress left, I peered across the table at Nate, who looked a little confused by my actions. Yet, he quickly gathered himself and leaned his elbows into the table.
“How’ve you been, Lena?”
I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “Never better. How about you, Nathaniel?” I asked, using his full name.
He winced.
A shot of joy raced through me. He always hated his full name because it was his father’s. My using it was thefuck youthat I couldn’t say.
He grunted. “I’ve seen you look better.” Typical Nate, to get at least one insult in, within the first five minutes of a conversation.
His words didn’t get to me like they used to.
“Do you have an album for me to listen to?” he asked.
“It’s close to completion.” I paused and smiled at the waitress who brought our beverages.
He snorted. “We’ll see about that.”
I wanted to ask him what that was supposed to mean, but I wasn’t interested in any more of his mind games.
“When are you coming back home?” he suddenly asked.
I wrinkled my forehead. “Home? You mean to my condo?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I meant what I said. It’ll take me some damn time, but eventually, I can find it in my heart to forgive you for fucking around with that white boy.”
“What are you talking about?” Indeed, he couldn’t be implying that he wanted us to get back together.
“Don’t give me that shit, Lena. You know where home is, and we’ve got business to take care of. I let you stay away for as long as I could after that video and the bullshit.”
“Which video, Nate?” I hissed, becoming angrier than I wanted. “The video of you fucking another woman while we were engaged or the video of me setting your shit on fire? Which someone you probably hired put on the internet.”
His nostrils flared in anger. “That shit wasn’t on me. There wouldn’t be a video if you didn’t burn my shit.”
“You know what?” I held up my hands and waved them in the air. “It’s all water under the bridge. Both videos were a good thing since they forced me to realize there was no way of ever salvaging our relationship. Once this album is released, there is no need for you and me ever to speak again. Any business we have left over can be discussed between our attorneys.”
He let out a laugh filled with derision and loud enough that a few nearby patrons glanced our way.
I got the sense that it was time to end this conversation before things got carried away.
Nate moved in closer to the table. “Listen, Lena. I didn’t come down here to fuck around with you. We need that album, and you need to bring your ass back to LA. We’ve got work to do, and you have a contract to sign.”
