Heather took a day off to recover. The next day she exchanged a few texts with Altair, but they were both too busy to meet up and talk, and Heather was honestly a little relieved. She wasn’t ready yet. She knew he was doing his best to trust her and not let his past experience rule their relationship, but it was still a struggle for both of them. It hurt her to not be trusted as much as it did him to think he’d been betrayed.
Instead, she had lunch with Shania. They met not at a restaurant but at Heather’s house. It had been too long since Heather had cooked something purely for her own enjoyment, and she relished the opportunity, moving through her kitchen as fluidly as a fish through the water as she assembled an extravagant meal for herself and her friend. Chloe was at school. Shania sat at the bar, watching Heather work with a kind of mystified admiration.
“So what’s on the menu today?” Shania asked, nibbling on the homemade hummus and pita bread while Heather prepared the main course.
“It’s a vegetable frittata with basil and mozzarella, and a citrus and dragonfruit tartelette for dessert,” Heather said without looking up from her work, spinning her knife with a flourish.
“That sounds incredible,” Shania said. “It feels like I haven’t had anything more substantial than coffee in days.”
“I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for me, you’d never get a decent meal,” Heather said with a laugh. “You should take better care of yourself.”
“That’s what I’ve got you for,” Shania replied, grinning.
“Having control over when and with what you fuel your body is essential to a happy, healthy life,” Heather said. “I would think you of all people would know the importance of a good schedule.”
“I’ll never stop being amazed at how different you are when you’re cooking,” Shania said, shaking her head. “It’s like you’re a different person.”
Heather scoffed. “It’s not that dramatic.”
“It is, though,” Shania said. “You act like you’re walking on eggshells so much of the time. You’re so worried about upsetting people that you end up looking like you’re lost all the time. But when you’re cooking, you change completely. You even stand up straighter.”
“I guess I am more confident here,” Heather said. “I just feel like I know what I’m doing. I don’t have to worry about things as much.”
“Like you don’t know what you’re doing everywhere else?” Shania asked. “You’re a single mom with a degree who is running her own very successful business! And now you’re modeling on the side? You are ridiculously competent, girl. You’ve got no excuse to be doubting yourself.”
“I know,” Heather said with an embarrassed chuckle. “But it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing’s easy,” Shania replied. “Raising a kid alone and running a business isn’t easy. But you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t try.”
Heather made a noncommittal noise and focused on slicing grape tomatoes for a Caprese salad. She knew Shania was right, but it wasn’t as easy as deciding to stop being a pushover, no matter how much she wished it was.
“So tell me about things with Altair,” Shania said, changing the subject.
Heather had been keeping Shania updated on her relationship with the Sheikh. Shania had declared it her “favorite soap opera.”
“The show went well,” Heather said, reluctant to go through it all again. “But after, Craig showed up.”
“Oh no.” Shania grimaced. “No need to tell me that ended badly.”
“Altair punched him,” Heather said, and Shania laughed.
“About time someone laid him out,” she said, leaning back as Heather put the finishing touches on lunch and began laying out the dishes on the counter. “Do you think he got the message?”
“Unlikely.” Heather sighed as she set the last plate on the island. “Maybe he’s right. This won’t end until I talk to him. If I could just explain it to him clearly—”
“I don’t think you’re going to make it much clearer than a punch in the face,” Shania said as Heather sat down. “He’s just pressuring you, because he knows as soon as he gets you to cave on talking to him, you’ll cave to everything. Don’t give in to him!”
“But aren’t you supposed to get closure and—”
“No,” Shania said emphatically. “You’re not supposed to do anything except what’s best for you. Closure is only necessary if you need it. That ass doesn’t deserve a second more of your time. If shutting him out and refusing to engage is what’s best for you, that’s what you should do.”
“Nothing is that simple,” Heather said, poking at her food, which suddenly seemed unappetizing. “He’s going to keep coming back. I’m just tired of it.”
“Giving him what he wants won’t make him go away.” Shania shook her head, patting Heather on the back. “You know that.”
“So what will?”
“Well, Altair seemed to have the right idea,” Shania said, laughing. “Keeping him around might be a good start.”
“Easier said than done.” Heather scrubbed at her face with her hand. “He nearly lost it seeing me with Craig. And I still haven’t told him about my real job. When he finds out I’ve been lying—”
“He’ll ask why you didn’t tell him sooner,” Shania finished for her. “And you’ll tell him…?”
Heather looked away, lost for an answer.
“You’ll tell him you’re a pushover too afraid of confrontation to defend yourself,” Shania finished, rolling her eyes. “Heather, you’re an incredibly strong person, even if you’re too dumb to see it, and you’ve got something great going on here. But if you don’t learn to stand up for yourself, you are going to lose it.”
Heather knew she was right, but part of her kept spinning off excuses anyway, like a lit Catherine wheel throwing sparks. She couldn’t do it over the phone, or when he was busy, or while Chloe was there, or a thousand other things. She knew how pathetic her delaying was, but the idea of losing Altair at this point seemed too terrifying to face head-on.
Except, it wasn’t about him, was it? It was about her. This was far from the only issue where she was a pushover. She needed to fight this, not just for Altair, but for her own sake. One of the things she admired most about Altair was how he acknowledged his problems and worked to deal with them. How could she expect any less of herself?
She and Shania turned the conversation to lighter subjects and enjoyed the rest of their lunch together, laughing as they worked their way through Heather’s efforts. Eventually, Shania helped clean up and then left, as she was late for an event. Heather had a wedding to cater that evening, and she served the lunch leftovers to Chloe and her mother, who was there to babysit for the evening.
“I’m just saying, I gave up what promised to be a very profitable bridge game for this,” Linda said as Heather put in her earrings and checked her suit for wrinkles. “I think I deserve a little more than half a cold frittata.”
“A quarter of a cold frittata actually,” Heather said. “Part of that is for Chloe. And it’s not as though that’s all I made.”
“You couldn’t make something fresh, though?” Linda asked.
“It’s only from this afternoon,” Heather huffed impatiently. “I didn’t have time to make anything new. I was too busy working on the spread for this wedding. You know, my job?”
Linda sniffed imperiously.
“I thought you were a model now.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “You know that’s a special case.”
“Well excuse me for thinking that if you had time to work two jobs you would have time to make a hot dinner for your daughter and aging mother,” Linda said, crossing her arms.
Heather raised her eyes to the ceiling to pray for the strength not to tell her mother all the things that were wrong with that statement.
“You know,” she said instead, “you could always cook something yourself.”
“Oh please,” Linda said. “We both know my cooking is terrible.”
“What was that?” Heather’s eyebrows all but vanished into her hairline in shock.
“Don’t make me repeat it,” Linda hissed.
A knock on the door interrupted whatever reply Heather might have made. She hurried to finish fastening her earring so she could answer it, but Linda was already on her way.
“I can get it!” she said, but Linda waved her off.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Finish getting ready.”
Heather followed her impatiently. Linda opened the door and revealed Craig standing on the other side.
“You again,” Linda said, her scorn apparent. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk to my girlfriend, Linda,” Craig growled. “Get out of the way.”
His right eye was black and his face was still swollen. It looked like Altair had broken his nose. At the noise, Chloe appeared from the living room, and she scowled at Craig from under Linda’s arm.
“She’s not your girlfriend,” Linda hissed. “And you’ll enter this apartment over my dead body.”
“Yeah!” Chloe said. “Get lost!”
“Mom,” Heather said quickly, intervening, “I can handle this.”
“If you let him back into this house—”
“He’s gross, Mom!”
“Guys,” Heather said, looking at the pair of them. “Please go back to the kitchen and let me handle this."
She gave Linda a pleading look, and, with clear reluctance, her mother shepherded Chloe away from the door and into the next room. Heather took a deep breath as she turned back to Craig.
"You really have to get a better handle on that girl," Craig said as patronizingly as though he were Heather’s disappointed father. "It's too late for Linda, obviously, but you don't have to let Chloe turn into her too. Honestly, insulting me while I'm standing here trying to apologize—”
As he complained, Heather took a deep breath, stealing herself and remembering Shania’s words and her own resolve from earlier.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Craig," Heather said, interrupting him. Her tone was flat, as she’d been unmoved by his words. She would make this as clear and unambiguous as she could, and then it would be over. "Our relationship ended when you walked out on me months ago. So for once, you actually weren't cheating on me."
"Baby, you know I don't like that word," Craig said, cringing like she'd hit him. "I never cheated on you. I just had a couple of lapses of willpower. Everybody does from time to time! It's human nature. Ask anyone in a long-lasting relationship. You just have to be able to work past the small stuff."
"That's the thing," Heather said, squeezing the doorframe as she mustered all her courage. "It was never small stuff to me. It was huge stuff. And you refused to make even the slightest effort to understand or work with that. My feelings and this relationship weren't as important to you as chasing after whatever caught your eye."
Craig rolled his eyes. "Honey, don't get all worked up. You're just emotional, and you're not seeing things rationally. Of course the relationship mattered to me. I'm here now trying to get it back, aren't I? So just relax. Let me in and we can talk about this over coffee."
Heather felt the instinct to move out of the way and fought it. There was a miserable little part of herself saying he was right and she should give him another chance. She pushed it away, trying to stand taller. She wasn’t going to be a pushover anymore.
"No," she said. "You're not coming in and we're not talking about this. This relationship is over. I'm not interested in going through it all over again. Now I would appreciate it if you would just leave."
"How can you say that?" Craig looked wounded, and Heather's willpower shook. "How can you just throw away everything we had together?"
"I didn't throw it away." Heather’s voice was shaking. She was growing unsure. "You did when you left."
"And here I am, trying to fix things," Craig said. "You're being stubborn for no reason. What, have I not apologized enough already?"
"You haven't apologized at all." Heather ran a shaking hand through her hair, exasperated.
"Yes, I did," Craig said over her, anger in his voice. "Just get out of the way and let’s go sit down. If you want to talk about apologies so much, we can talk about that asshole you’ve been showing off to all the papers. Did you see what he did to my face?”
He tried to push past her, and Heather blocked the door, a hand against each side of the frame.
"I said no!" Heather looked him dead in the eye, gathering back her scattered courage. "You're not coming into this house and we are not talking about anything. I'm not interested, Craig. Go back to Jacki and her grow-op."
“You really think he can take care of you like I can?” Craig bellowed, his face turning red under his purple bruises. “You saw the way he hit me. How long do you think it’ll be before he does it to you?”
“He isn’t like that,” Heather snarled back, anger lighting a new fire in her. “He isn’t like you!”
“He is!” Craig shot back. “They all are, because you drive them to it! You bring it on yourself every time, you dumb b—”
“That’s enough!” Heather shouted, talking over him as he continued to yell. “I don’t care about anything you have to say! We’re done!”
She slammed the door in his face before he could say another word. Remembering something, she stomped into the kitchen where Linda and Chloe were waiting anxiously for news. She held up a finger, grabbed the cardboard box sitting on the table, and carried it back to the door. Craig was hammering on it, alternately pleading and demanding she come back and talk to him. She opened the door long enough to shove the box into his hands.
"Get lost," she said, rage coursing like fire in her blood, "or I'll call the cops."
She slammed the door in his face again and, practically humming with nerves, stumbled back into the kitchen to the cheers and praise of her mother and daughter, who acted as though she'd just vanquished a dragon rather than a scummy ex. It was exactly the encouragement Heather needed, because there was still a part of her saying that she should go back and let him in. That she would be alone forever if she didn't give him another chance. That he was right and she brought mistreatment on herself.
She fought the feeling off, knowing it would come back to haunt her tonight and would be just as untrue then. For now, at least, she felt victorious. The old Heather would have let him inside in a heartbeat, but her time with Altair had helped her grow and had instilled in her a new confidence. Maybe she could learn to be less of a pushover after all.
"This calls for drinks," Linda said. "Where do you keep the wine?"
She started searching through the cabinets without waiting for an answer, and Heather let her, shaking her head. Okay, so she'd always be a pushover when it came to her mother. There were worse things.