“Noel, I can’t fake it, you know that.”
He slumps in the booth and scoffs, shaking his head, like I am impossible. “Actually, you could fake it. If anyone could, it’s you! Not that I wanted you to.”
“Mom wouldn’t have approved of me lying to get a girl.”
“Ha! Why’a care? Mom’s in a coffin. In your eyes, she’s just worm food. No soul. No nothing.”
“I can still honor her memory.”
He just shakes his head once more, his mop of hair swaying.
I don’t want to talk about Morgan or feel his judgement. Especially about Mom or my lack of faith.
“Can we get past this, Noel? I want you to come home. Tommy and I miss you.”
“Ya!” says Tommy, who rests his rosy cheek on his palm. “I miss you.”
Noel warms some. It’s guarded, but better than seconds before.
He mutters, “Miss you, too.”
The waitress stops by and takes our order. We chat and catch up. I steer the conversation away from Morgan whenever Noel mentions her. I say nothing to upset him. I’m like a dog with my tail between my legs. I’m kind of a pussy, but tough love doesn’t work with Noel.
He steadily relaxes and eventually we manage to share a few laughs.
Then, half-way through the meal, my world tilts as the bell on the door jingles and in walks Morgan. She’s with...
Is that the motherfucker who—?
Her eyes land on me and the color drains from her face. She holds her breath and forces herself to look at the floor.
“Oh, shit,” murmurs Noel, catching who I’m staring at.
He straightens in the booth and fusses with his hair.
The crush endures.
But I watch her like a hawk as they are seated at a table across the restaurant.
My molars are cracking as I bite down in fury. This looks like more than two coworkers grabbing dinner. The asshat seems overly confident as he pulls out her chair. He whispers something in her ear before sitting down.
Christ, if she’s gonna dump me, at least date the other fuck. Not this slime ball.
“Why you eye-fucking her? Thought you were over Morgan?” says Noel.
I rip my eyes off her and pinch the bridge of my nose. “That asshole is not who I thought she’d be with.”
Noel’s spine snaps straight. “That’s pastor Gabe. They’re just friends. They aren’t—”
“It’s a date,” I assure.
Noel gawks, horrified. “Real?”
“What? Did ya think if I wasn’t with her, she’d run to you?”
“Maybe, but... not Gabe.”
I chuckle, amused he is equally disgusted by the situation and just now seeing reality.
