Since the fight a month ago, Oliver had tried making amends, but there was still a barrier between us. He hadn’t liked the truth that morning but was clearly trying. However, it appeared everything I did was wrong. Oliver gently criticised, but I couldn’t do anything right. But the way Oliver handled my errors meant our marriage was worth saving. But despite his efforts to help me be better, Oliver had been photographed with Eve several times. They appeared far closer than employer and employee.
“Don’t forget tonight; I’ve reserved the table for seven,” I said as Oliver grabbed his briefcase.
He frowned. “What?”
“My birthday, Oliver, I booked Samuel’s. You will make it, won’t you?” I nibbled my bottom lip and wrung my fingers together. Oliver scowled, and I stopped. It was a habit I was falling back into.
“Message me the details,” Oliver said.
“Oliver, please don’t forget. I had to book months in advance as it’s a Friday.”
“Alright, Alicia, I’ll be there. Send me a text.” Oliver dropped a kiss on my cheek and hurried out.
Agonised, I stared at the closing door. “You forgot,” I whispered. “Happy birthday, Alicia.”
The front door opened, and hope leapt as Oliver rushed back in. “Left my files,” he said and dashed off. Blowing out a breath, I swallowed tears.
Trying to keep calm, I glanced at my phone. Seven-fifteen. Oliver was late. I picked up my cell and dialled again, but got voicemail. Had Oliver really stood me up on my birthday? The waiter came over.
“Would you like to order, ma’am?”
“Another wine, please.”
“And food?”
“My husband is caught in traffic; he won’t be long,” I said, ignoring the pitying look he offered.
Five minutes later, my phone pinged, and I glanced over. Oliver’s image flashed up, and I clicked on it.
No! He’d been snapped with Eve at a bar, huddled in a corner and looking very cosy together. Oliver had done it to me again, this time on my birthday. Bile rose in my throat as I saw people glancing over. Underneath the image of Oliver and Eve was a picture of me sitting here, gazing at my cell. It had literally been posted in the last minute.
‘Oliver Kensington is out partying with his ‘employee’ while the little wifey waits faithfully alone for her birthday meal.’ What a bitchy, mean comment.
Hurt, I sucked my lips in. How cruel some people were! More diners were staring, and the waiter approached with my drink. He placed it down and walked away. To calm down, I took a gulpand stared at the phone as another picture of Oliver and Eve appeared. This time, Eve was laughing up at Oliver.
Wine wouldn’t cut it. I needed something stronger. Minutes ticked by as whispers rose, as social media kept up the barrage. Clearly, everyone was of the opinion that Oliver was cheating on me and Eve was his mistress. With soul-destroying brutality, I was being portrayed as pathetic, gullible, and weak. After a quarter of an hour, the waiter approached again.
“Please bring the menu; I’m ready to order,” I whispered. Sympathy shone in his eyes as he nodded. No sooner had he left than a shadow fell over me.
“Alicia, I apologise for being late. A meeting overran, and I was caught. I didn’t bother wasting time texting you, but came straight away,” Cain Russell said with a warm smile. He pulled out the chair and clicked his fingers for the waiter.
Whispers rose around the restaurant. Cain had elucidated clearly so everyone could hear him.
“Cain,” I whispered, gratitude rising. It was so kind of Cain to save my dignity.
“Happy Birthday, Alicia,” Cain said and held out a small gift bag. “Forgive my tardiness.”
“Cain?” I whispered, cocking my head.
Cain leaned forward and muttered, “I saw the initial post driving to the hotel. I stopped to pick this up and came straight here. No woman should suffer the indignity Kensington is visiting upon you.”
“Thank you,” I said as those ice-green eyes held me captive. “You’re my hero.”
Cain smiled. “Alicia, I’m usually the anti-hero.”
The waiter approached, looking surprised to see Cain. “Whiskey on the rocks. Top shelf. Alicia, would you like an apple juice?” Cain ordered.
“Please.”
