“Is that even a question?”
Unfortunately, the waitress told us that she’d have to come back with another tray of drinks in five minutes, and I was about to offer to go to the bar instead when I saw the last person I expected.
I was thankful I wasn’t doing anything more than sitting down and breathing, although the latter was taking some considerable effort at this moment.
I felt my heart pounding against my ribs like an angry neighbor. “Shit. Brad.”
Tiff started. “What? Where?”
“Behind you. Fuck, I think he’s walking over here.”
Tiff looked over, and I could tell when she saw him because she straightened in her chair, angling herself in front of me like a shield.
“Is that his date?” she asked.
“Looks like it.”
And then there he was, my ex-husband, standing in this poorly lighted restaurant, politely smiling like this wasn’t awkward as fuck.
“Audrey. Tiffany.”
“Brad.”
A harsh-looking woman in a little black dress hung off his arm, and she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
When neither Tiffany nor I greeted her, she shifted her weight on her heels and bared her teeth in a fake smile. “Nice to see you again, Audrey.”
The face hadn’t done it, but boy, had her nasal, blunt voice brought the memories flooding back. Even in my rare moments of missing work at Empire, I hadn’t for a second missed the condescension and cattiness from this particular co-worker. I forced a smile in her direction. “You, too, Natalie.”
“Who the hell let you in here.” Trust Tiff to say what I was thinking without any shame whatsoever. I was so glad she was my friend.
Natalie didn’t seem rattled. “My company sponsors the awards, and Brad is my date.”
“How have you been, Audrey?” Brad asked.
“Fine.”
“Still working with David?”
“Yes, actually, and it’s going really well.”
Natalie piped up. “A little rumor is going around that you’re trying to launch a new rum by a local distillery. How quaint. Probably for the best that you’re handling smaller accounts. You wouldn’t want to overtax your abilities.”
“Listen, you b—”
Natalie continued, ignoring Tiff’s outburst. “The MacMillan account, I heard. Bit small for our tastes, but who knew, maybe if they expand, we could make them an offer.”
I would not engage. I would not engage. “Do what you want, Natalie.”
“Well, this has been delightful. Excuse me while I speak to more important people. Darling,” She turned to Brad, “Don’t be much longer.” And with that, she was off. Hopefully, someone spilled a drink on her, and she melted, but I wasn’t about to hold my breath.
“You look stressed.”
It was so familiar and yet so ridiculous I almost laughed. “Jesus, Brad, seriously?”
“What? I’m worried about you.”
Tiff snorted next to me but said nothing when I knocked her knee with my hand under the table. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Brad. That’s the great thing about divorce.”
