Chapter One
Jennifer twisted the napkin between her fingers under the table. She tried to keep her hands in her lap because she knew how much the nervous habit bothered Charles. Bothering him just led to lecturing, something she wanted to avoid.
He was late.
Not that it was anything new to her, but of all the days for him to be late, today had to be the worst. Jennifer took a deep breath and let go of the fabric in her lap. Getting herself worked up wouldn’t do any good either.
A lock of brown hair slipped in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. It was annoying to deal with, but Charles liked her hair down and curled, so that’s the way she wore it. In the end, it was sometimes just easier to do as he asked than listen to the needling comments that tended to come if she didn’t.
He was certainly good at those. It came as no surprise to most that he’d gone into business law. It suited him.
Jennifer picked up her glass of red wine and took a large drink. It wasn’t her favorite, but she figured if she had a bottle of his favorite wine to break the news, it wouldn’t be so bad.
It was unfortunate that a waiter picked that exact moment to hurry past and bumped her arm, spilling part of the wine down the front of her cream-colored patron dress.
She loved the dress. With the sleeveless arms, wide belt, and lace top that went to her neck, it reminded her of something out of the 1950s.
Jennifer glanced up to the stunned man and then back down to the growing stain, not quite certain what to say.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The waiter stumbled over his words, seemingly more startled than she had been. “I’ll get some club soda.”
She glanced up as he raced off. The damage was done, and she was fairly sure there would be no getting the stain out. And certainly not before Charles got there.
“Already getting tipsy?”
Jennifer glanced up and found Charles standing over the table. Of course he would pick that exact moment to come in. His suit was still in perfect order from when he’d put it on that morning, and even the blond hair on his head seemed perfectly in place.
That had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place. He always seemed so calm and composed. Nothing rattled him like it did her. He was the rock in their relationship.
She gave a small smile, which was met with a scowl. He could look so handsome, but when he scrunched his face up like that, the lines on his face became more severe. There was a harshness to it, and she wondered if that was something he learned to do in business school or if it had always been his way.
“The waiter bumped me,” she said quietly, and looked for the club soda.
He frowned and sat across from her.
“I hope you called for management,” he said firmly.
Jennifer sighed. “Since it just happened, I thought I’d wait for the club soda.”
His face grew dark, and she knew she’d been a bit clipped with him, but now wasn’t the time. She was tired, and it had been a long day. Not to mention, it hadn’t even been her fault.
The waiter brought back a glass of club soda and napkin for her to dab out the spots.
“Again,” he said. “I’m very sorry.”
Jennifer nodded. Maybe if she had the dress dry cleaned, they would be able to get the stain out. It was likely going to be her only hope.
For the first time, she actually looked at the waiter. He was handsome. More so than she would have expected in a place like this. His dark hair matched his olive skin tone perfectly. Everything about him seemed chiseled to perfection.
“I’d expect that the wine is on the house,” Charles said. His voice cut into her thoughts, and she wondered what it mattered. She was the one wearing it, and he had more money than he knew what to do with.
“Of course,” the waiter said. She could see he was trying to sort out just what had happened.
Charles flipped open the menu and ordered quickly for them both. She sighed and held up her hand.
“Actually,” she said, and looked at the menu. “I’d rather have the shrimp and pasta.”
Jennifer closed her menu and passed it over to the waiter, catching Charles’s eye. He wasn’t pleased.
Once the waiter had left the table, Charles leaned forward. He was silent for a long while, his eyes narrowed.
“You know how much I hate that,” he finally said. “It’s just more efficient for us to order together.”
Jennifer tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. A nervous habit she was trying to break, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen today.
“I realize that, but—”
“Well, if you realize it, this shouldn’t be an issue,” he snapped.
She pressed her lips together and bit back what she wanted to say. It wouldn’t do any good at this point. Charles was just going to be mad, no matter what she said.
The waiter placed their salads in front of them, and she gave a small smile. She hoped he hadn’t heard the ranting. Not that it mattered, but knowing that others saw her like this was almost worse.
They silently started eating. She wondered if she should say something now and just get it over with, but the words were hard to get out. His moods could be impossible to get around when he was like this. Maybe she should just tell him later.
“This is exactly the problem,” Charles said, cutting into her thoughts.
Jennifer stopped eating and placed her fork in her bowl. Did he already know?
“What is?” she asked.
Charles looked up at her. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow. It was so romantic, it moved her, despite the situation.
“We just aren’t compatible,” he said, and continued to eat. She watched in stunned silence as he shoveled a few more bites in before she could even open her mouth.
“We aren’t?”
Jennifer could feel her throat closing and wondered if she could choke on the air in the room.
Charles looked up at her before going on. “Don’t be so naive,” he said. “You can’t even follow a few simple requests.”
Heat burned her face at his insult.
“I’ve had a rough day,” she managed to get out, hoping he would somehow understand.
Charles pinned her with an unsympathetic stare. “We all have.”
The walls were closing in. She was sure of it. And maybe the oxygen in the room had been filtered out a little. Things seemed to tilt, and she wondered if this was what a stroke felt like.
“I think we should try seeing other people,” he said flatly.
Jennifer’s stomach churned and bubbled. She jumped up, startling a few people around them as she banged her leg against the table, making the glassware rattle.
“I’ve got to use the restroom,” she said quietly.
Charles frowned and gave a nod.
“Hurry back. The main meal will be here soon,” he said, and raised a brow. “Wouldn’t want to miss that pasta.”
Jennifer nodded and turned. She raced to the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before losing her salad. She wiped her mouth and went to the mirror.
As she stood over the sink and took deep breaths, she knew this was it. Today was going to go down as the worst day in history. Not only had she lost her job, but Charles was breaking up with her.
She had to get out of there. Sitting through dinner would be like her own personal version of hell.
After collecting herself, she stepped through the door into the hall.
Jennifer glanced around for an exit. She jumped when the service door opened, and her waiter popped out. He seemed just as surprised to see her.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, and gave a small smile.
She nodded but knew she had to look as bad as she felt. He gave her a once over, and then glanced around before looking back to her.
“Do you need out?” he whispered. He nodded in the general direction of the dining room.
Her eyes widened.
“Not that I’m assuming,” he said, and held up his hands. “But you just seem like you need a way out.”
Her mouth ran dry. She did. She needed a way out, and this was it. Jennifer nodded.
The waiter held open the door to the kitchen, and she stepped in. It was her first time seeing a kitchen like this. People running around, different smells and sounds. It was funny to think there was such a different world behind those doors.
“This way,” the waiter said, and ushered her to the back.
When they reached the back door, Jennifer turned and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
For the second time, she was struck with how perfect his looks were. She wasn’t one to normally fixate on that sort of thing, but it was like being in the presence of a model.
“Just wait,” he said, and raced around the corner. When he returned, he was carrying a bag. “Dinner and dessert,” he said with a boyish grin that made him look even more handsome.
Jennifer gave a smile and started to pull her purse out but stopped when he placed a hand on hers. “It’s on me,” he said. “You look like you’re having a rough day.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. This man, who had known her all of three minutes, could see that when her own boyfriend couldn’t. Maybe Charles was right after all. Things weren’t working between them.
“Thank you,” she whispered again.
The waiter nodded and waved a hand. “Just come again sometime,” he said with a smile, and winked. “Maybe with a better date.”
Jennifer took her bag and made her way out the back. The air was fresh and crisp against her face. She needed something to focus on, and the biting cold might just be it.
She both loved and hated that aspect of living in the frozen north. Winter sometimes never seemed to end. At least the sun was still out, and she could warm herself under the rays for a bit longer.
Still slightly dazed, Jennifer started the walk back. She guessed Charles would figure out sometime soon that she’d slipped out. He’d be livid. Or at least she hoped he would be. Maybe not after what he said though, and despite herself, she cared if he cared.
“See other people,” she mumbled. What did that even mean?
She took a deep breath and let it out. It was clear what he’d meant, and it was also clear he had his other person already in mind. Clara from the office, she’d guess. Perfect in all ways.
Jennifer already suspected something might have happened two months ago when Charles suddenly stopped showing any interest in her. He didn’t call as often, and when he did get a day off, it didn’t seem like he was interested in spending time with her. All he seemed to talk about was Clara and the office.
Jennifer huffed and kicked at a stone. Two months she let this go on when she should have been the one ending it. But it hurt. To be rejected like that and made to feel like she wasn’t special enough. Maybe she wasn’t. He certainly hadn’t thought so, despite being together a year.
A groan escaped her lips. No boyfriend was something she could deal with, but no job wasn’t something she’d be able to handle for long. Her parents would be coming in for vacation soon and expected to hear all about how she was working her way up the chain at the private marketing firm. She had no idea what to even tell them.
I know I’m already a disappointment Mom and Dad and as proof, I’ve just been laid off!
The job was her first position outside of school, and she’d flopped so badly that they suggested she reevaluate her choices in life. Not that she could blame them. They had a client they needed to satisfy, and she hadn’t wanted to do it.
Spending all her time with scantily clad women wasn’t exactly something she was keen on, and to be honest, it pissed her off to the core. She’d done the research. Over half the drinkers of their vodka were women, and it didn’t make sense to pander to the lowest demographic.
Her head throbbed as she thought about it and how angry they had all been. It didn’t matter at this point how right she had been. Now, she was without a job or even a prospect.
She didn’t even know what she could do at this point. Everything had been in preparation to take on this position, and Charles had even put in a good word for her. Either way, she was ruined. Four years down the drain because she had to be right.
Not that she’d change anything. She didn’t even know if she could have. Once an idea took over, that was it. It was just how the process worked for her. It had worked for her up until this point, but maybe she didn’t know anything. Her boss certainly thought as much.
Jennifer was about to focus on that thought when something launched her toward the ground. Her hands came up in front of her, and she winced as she hit the cold, hard earth.
Slowly, she sat up and looked behind her. Long boards crossed the sidewalk. It was no wonder she had fallen. She glanced down at her scraped palms and hissed. Battered, but not broken, she’d live.
Jennifer stood and looked down at the contents of her bag. The pasta and shrimp had made their escape during the fall and now lay dirtied on the ground. She sighed. So much for comfort food. The small container was still intact, and she picked it up gingerly but grunted in pain when she put too much weight on her foot.
“I’m so sorry,” a man said from behind her.
She turned, fully expecting to give him a piece of her mind, but was surprised when, instead, he knelt to scoop up the noodles. His rusty red hair bobbed around as he tried to gather her things up.
“What a waste,” he said, and looked up at her.
Silence filled the air as he stared at Jennifer in shock. She shifted under the weight of his stare. He stared at her as if he knew her, and the look made her squirm.
“Looks like you’re pretty banged up as well,” he finally said.
His pretty green eyes fell on her knees and then came back up to her. She stepped back when he jumped up quickly, his face stricken with panic.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, pointing to her chest.
Jennifer frowned and looked down. All she could see was mud and wine. She pointed to the red stain.
“Red wine,” she said.
His handsome features seemed to relax a little. “This is all my fault,” the man said, and waved a hand at the boards. “Doing some renovations.”
Jennifer stared at him with open interest. He was so honest. It was refreshing and welcome after the kind of day she had been having.
“Why don’t you come inside?” He gestured to the stairs leading down to the entrance. The name sat just above. Bad Omen.
Jennifer snorted. Either the day was getting to her, or this was a sign. She looked back to the smiling man. He seemed nice enough though, and she could really use the company.
“Think they’d mind if I ate my dessert?” she asked.
His smile grew as if she’d just said something really funny. “I’m sure they wouldn’t. I’m one of the owners. Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Patrick.”
“Jennifer,” she said, and took his leathered hand.
With a little help, she hobbled over to the steps. Bad Omen or not, she was eating her damn dessert. Even if it killed her. She took a deep breath and took the first step down on shaky feet.