I nod my agreement, wide-eyed, too terrified to deny my friend the satisfaction of humiliating him publicly.
“Perfect,” Lisa says, clapping her hands together. “What would you like for the drink? My boss said it’s on the house.”
“Thanks,” Roxy answers. “Give us a mojito, extra mint.”
My lips turn up in a smile I can’t fight off.
“Love you,” I murmur once Lisa leaves with our order.
“You’ve got this, Vi. Confront him for your closure. I know it’s what you want.” Roxy’s tone is soft—full of reassurance.
“Thank you. I couldn’t face him without your moral support.”
“What about later, ya know, when he comes home?” she asks. “Do you want to stay at my place?”
“Let him try to come home. I changed the locks and had a security company come out this morning,” I shrug.
The truth is I’ve been plotting this final stand for months, meticulously getting everything in order so I can make ending this fast. It’s necessary. I deserve better. I want to be someone’s happily ever after, and I don’t care how many failed relationships it takes to find my Prince Charming. I refuse to settle for less than being my man’s whole damn world.
Lisa places the drink on a tray at the bar, then gives us a small nod. Roxy swipes open her phone to record the confrontation. “You’ve got this,” she says. “Go get him, soon-to-be-single cougar lady.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. I’m not even close to old enough to be an actual cougar, but I suppose that’s what makes it hilarious. Fumbling with the hem of my dress and adjusting my cleavage, I nervously make my way to the counter to retrieve the mojito.
My hands tremble as I lift the tray, catching Roxy in my periphery, following me like the paparazzi, determined to catch every last second on film. The need to watch his face dropwhen he realizes it’s me outweighs my desire not to look at him. Instead, I imagine tiny swords shooting from my gaze and dive-bombing him. Each one slicing deep, hurting him the way he hurt me. Jackson must feel my imaginary attack because a second later his head twists in slow motion and our eyes lock. Anger ripples through me as I watch his hands grip the table tightly like he’s about to make a run for it.
I reach the table precisely in time to shove him back into his seat with my free hand. My feminine rage kicks in, and suddenly I’m fueled by fury. He looks terrified.
Good. He abso-fucking-lutely should be scared of me.
My lips curl back to reveal a gleaming pearly-white smile. It’s so sickly sweet even a complete jackass can sense it’s too good to be true.
“Now just where do you think you’re going, Jackson?” I purr. “I think it’s better if you stick around for this.”
Before he can reply, I throw the drink in his face. “Cheers to your new life, asshole.”
He screams, rubbing his face with his hands. “You crazy bitch!”
“Jackson! Jackson! What in the hell is going on? Who is this?” the catty brunette hisses from across the table they’re sharing.
“It fucking burns. What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts.
“Waiter,” the girl shouts, waving her arm, but they all pretend not to hear her. “Who the fuck is this, Jackson?”
“I-I-I don’t—“ he sputters, but I cut him off before he can say he doesn’t know.
“Oh, shame on you, Jackson. You know exactly who I am. Now are you going to tell her, or am I?” I raise a brow at him in challenge.
“This is my partner,” he blurts out.
“Your partner?” she questions. “This is your partner from work?”
I laugh. “What Jackson’s trying to tell you is I’m his girlfriend. He’s just trying to spin it to distract from what you actually know.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry it had to end this way after…” I pause. “Oh gosh. Did I ruin your date?” I say, staring the brunette down.
She glares back.
“If you want a loser, scumbag, piece-of-shit like him, then by all means, be my guest and have him, honey. He’s all yours. I’m his ex-girlfriend now.” My tone is cool, calculated, and downright terrifying.
