I tap my spoon against my coffee cup three times and place it down on the saucer. This is my third cup and I can’t tell if my hands are shaking due to the caffeine overdose or straight-up, old-fashioned nerves.
My table in the corner of the restaurant has a clear view of the front door of Grayson’s apartment building through the window. I check the clock on my phone. It’s eight forty-five. They’ve been gone for a little over an hour and a half. Unless they went for a seven-course meal, they should be back any minute now.
I know Grayson said I should just go home. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave him alone at a time like this. I know my sister too well. This is not going to be pretty. She’s going to completely lose it. Alex Smart does not take rejection lightly. And when it’s all over, Grayson’s emotions (not to mention possibly a few body parts) are going to be completely bruised and battered. He’s going to need support. He’s going to need a friend. And above all else, if there’s one thing Grayson and I have been for each other over the past eight years, it’s friends.
So, after cleaning up the apartment, making the bed, opening up all the windows and trying to rid the place of the distinctive sex smell, I grabbed my overnight bag and came to this restaurant. I figured I would just wait here until he came home. Chances are Alex will be with him. A relationship that long and complicated doesn’t get tidily wrapped up and cauterized over a two-hour dinner. But that’s okay. I’m prepared to be patient. And the sign on the door says this place doesn’t close until midnight. Sooner or later, Alex will leave the building, most likely in a tornado-like huff, and then I’ll ring the buzzer and surprise him.
I won’t expect anything. I won’t ask for anything. I will just be there for him.
Because that’s what friends do.
The waiter approaches the table for the fourth time since I sat down. “Are you sure you don’t want to order anything else?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
I shake my head. “Sorry. No. Just the coffee.”
He turns and walks away and I just manage to catch the flash of annoyance on his face as he goes. I feel bad taking up such a prime-location table for this long, and not even ordering food. I’ve worked in the restaurant business long enough to know that I am just about the worst customer a waiter can have. But the idea of even smelling food right now—let alone swallowing it—makes me want to hurl. But I plan to give him a really big tip when this is all over, which alleviates my guilt somewhat.
Besides, these are extenuating circumstances. It’s not every day your lifelong love breaks up with his girlfriend/fiancée/your sister in order to be with you. I mean, come on, these kinds of scenarios don’t come along every day. That’s gotta earn me at least another hour at this table.
I glance at my phone again. Eight-fifty. And yet another missed call from Danika. That’s the sixth one since yesterday afternoon. No doubt she’s trying to find out how my trip to the city has been going.
But I haven’t called her back. Somewhat because I don’t want to take the chance that I might miss Alex and Grayson returning, but mostly because I don’t yet know how my trip to the city went. And I won’t know for sure until this is all over.
I swipe the missed call clear from my screen and take another sip of coffee. Just as I’m setting the cup back down on the saucer, I see them.
Grayson and Alex walking up Madison Avenue.
My whole body stiffens.
This is it.
I sit up straighter, even though I don’t really know why. It’s not like they can actually see me. But my body sags back down when I notice that Grayson’s arm is slung around Alex’s shoulder and her body is huddled against his. Like she’s using him as a shield from non-existent rain.
Why do they look so…so…
Cozy?
It’s fine, I assure myself. He’s probably just consoling her. She’s probably an emotional wreck and he’s being the sweet, kind, loving man that he’s always been.
But then I watch as Grayson tilts his head back and lets out a loud, good-humored laugh. True, I can’t actually hear the sound coming out of his mouth, but from the look on his face, it’s definitely one of those boisterous “I can’t believe you’re so funny” kind of laughs.
He squeezes her tighter against him and dips down to gently place his lips on hers.
And for that moment, the world stops.
I stop breathing.
They stop walking.
And, although it’s probably just my imagination, the cars on the street seem to stop whizzing past.
It’s as though everything—everyone—has been halted by this romantic, spellbinding, what-the-fuck kiss.
When I can finally move again, the first thing I do is choke. And I don’t mean like a polite, Victorian-era, handkerchief-to-the-mouth-type cough. I mean like honest-to-goodness, hacking-up-a-lung gagging. It’s so violent and hideous that customers at surrounding tables turn to stare at me.
I wave to let them know that I’m okay and reach for my cup, swallowing my reaction with another sip of bitter coffee.
Outside the window, Grayson and Alex have broken from their dreamy, curbside lip lock and are entering Grayson’s building. I lean forward, counting the seconds—fifty-three—until the light in apartment 4D (four floors up and two from the far left) illuminates.
Okay, I tell myself, trying to remain calm. There’s obviously an explanation for this.
You know what? He probably hasn’t even told her yet. It’s not like Grayson to do something as big and personal as breaking off his engagement in a public place. Grayson is too private a person to share that kind of dramatic moment with the world.
He’s just waiting for them to get back to the apartment, where they can be alone, and he can do it right.
Of course, that’s it.
I feel silly for even assuming that he would do it over dinner. That’s not Grayson’s style at all.
I let out a deep sigh and gesture to the waiter for a refill on my coffee.
Grayson was right. This is going to be a long night.
The busboy stacks the last remaining chair atop the table next to mine and gives me an expectant look.
He wants me to leave.
So he can finish closing down the restaurant and go home to his family.
I stare miserably into my empty cup. The last few drops of untouched coffee have turned into a thick brown sludge at the bottom. My veins are tingling from the caffeine, my stomach is screaming for food, and my chest is caving in from the agony of watching out that window for the past four hours.
I look at my phone. It’s after midnight.
And they’re still in there.
She hasn’t come out yet.
Which means…
Fuck, I don’t know what the hell it means. I’m sick and tired of trying to figure out what everything means. I’ve been doing it all night and my brain feels like pulverized meat.
It started to rain an hour ago. I try not to see it as a bad omen.
Does it really take this long to break up with someone? Did Grayson decide to play an epic game of Monopoly first?
Or what if he’s dead? What if he broke the news to her and Alex stabbed him in the chest with a knife? And now she’s trying to arrange the crime scene to make it look like a suicide.
God, Lia. Just stop.
Stop trying to make excuses. Stop trying to talk yourself out of what you know to be true.
He didn’t do it.
He’s not going to do it.
You will never have the life you want.
“Miss?”
I blink and turn to look up at the busboy. Hot pricks of moisture sting my eyes, threatening to spill out. He gives me a pitying look that makes me feel wretched. He probably thinks I got stood up. If he only knew how much worse it was.
“I’m sorry,” he offers in a thick Russian accent, “but the restaurant is closed now.”
I nod and rise from the chair, my butt numb from sitting too long. I grab my overnight bag and shuffle onto the street. I stand at the curb, the rain soaking my hair, mixing with my tears, blurring the world around me.
I gaze up at Grayson’s apartment, wishing I knew what was happening inside. Praying that any second now, Alex will come barreling through that door, signaling that it’s over. That he kept his word. That I’m not the biggest fool on the face of the earth.
My clothes are soaked through. My hair sticks to the back of my neck. I start to shiver.
But still, there’s no sign of Alex.
No sign of what’s going on in that one-bedroom apartment.
Then, a few seconds later, I get my answer.
The light in the window flicks off.
My entire body is blasted by a cold tremor. A freezing sickness. A sub-zero realization.
No one is coming down those stairs. No one is barreling out that door. Nothing is going to save me this time.
I turn and walk into the wet night, trying to ignore the achingly empty silence that follows me like a shadow.