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THE SOFT CREAKS AND groans of my rundown apartment were both welcoming and depressing. It wasn’t much, but it had been home for a while now. The worn wooden floors and crappy beige paint weren’t pretty but it was all I could afford for now. If I let myself start listing all the things I hated about the place, I would spiral.
It was what it was. I could dwell on the negative or suck it up and keep putting one foot in front of the other. I had moved into the apartment ten years ago. Ten very long years. I constantly told myself it was going to be the last year I was in the place. I was going to save enough money to put a down payment on a house.
Then another year came and went, and I was still scraping by. But I hoped this would be the year. As a journeyman, I could start charging more for my work. Now, I just had to get the work that paid well. It felt like I was on a hamster wheel. I just kept spinning my wheels, trying to get somewhere and going nowhere.
I missed my childhood home. I missed the cute little two-bedroom craftsman that I grew up in. But life was cruel. My father had to sell our home in order to avoid bankruptcy. I knew how hard that was for him. It crushed his soul to give up the house he restored with his own two hands. I remembered the many late nights we spent refinishing the floors or rebuilding the staircase. I loved those moments with him. That was the spark that lit my love for carpentry.
My father and I decided it would be better if he moved into the apartment over the woodshop. It saved on rent and he could put all his energy into keeping his business afloat. The place was very small with one bedroom. I knew he wanted me to stay with him, but we needed our space. I found my apartment and that was that.
I never went to college like we had planned for years. The money just wasn’t there, and honestly, I didn’t want to waste time learning how to write a proper essay. I wanted to work with my hands. I wanted to be a carpenter just like my dad. He was disappointed but it was for the best. He needed me whether he wanted to admit it or not. He didn’t take care of himself. That was why I had to check on him.
Last year, I finally got my journeymen’s. I was thrilled to get to work alongside my father instead of being the helper or the person that handled the business side of things. Together, we were running the business. He was still the expert, but I was able to take on jobs on my own and bring more money into the business. Things were better than they were a few years ago, but we still had a long way to go.
I put away my groceries and cleaned up a bit. The one perk to my shitty apartment was the fact I did have my own washer and dryer. That was a new addition. I was so glad I didn’t have to trek down to the laundromat anymore.
I glanced at the clock and decided to get ready for dinner. Yes, it was supposed to be a surprise, but when Scott showed up or called and asked me to meet him, I didn’t want to be wearing my jeans and hoodie. In my line of work, I tended to dress very casually. Very, very casually. I was often covered in sawdust. I wore faded jeans, heavy boots, and typically had a toolbelt slung around my hips. It wasn’t very feminine. I wanted to remind Scott I was still a sexy woman.
I took a shower. Once I stepped out, I lathered myself with my favorite scented lotion that I knew Scott loved. I started getting ready, a ritual that involved choosing the perfect outfit and meticulously applying makeup. We’d been together five years. I wanted to remind him of that woman he fell in love with back then. I knew we were both busy and caught up with our careers. It was important we had these moments to reconnect.
When I walked into the restaurant, I wanted him to look at me and be proud to call me his girlfriend. Maybe after tonight, he’d want to call me his fiancée. I was still waiting on the proposal, but I suspected it was coming soon.
As six turned into seven and the clock continued ticking off the minutes, a sense of disappointment crept in. The reservation time was inching closer and Scott was nowhere to be found. I dialed his number, hoping for an explanation, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Maybe he forgot, lost track of time, or something came up.
Thirty minutes past the reservation, I resigned myself to the reality that the surprise dinner might not be happening. Disappointment settled over me. I had been standing to avoid wrinkling my dress, but clearly it didn’t matter. I flopped onto my old, used couch and pouted. Just when I was cursing the man and then feeling guilty because maybe something had happened to him, I heard someone outside my door.
I grinned and jumped up. I quickly smoothed down my dress and rushed to open the door with the expectation of seeing my boyfriend.
“Amber?” I asked with confusion when I saw her holding a little box with a bow.
“Catherine? What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I muttered and walked back inside.
She followed behind me. “But why are you here? Am I early? I thought you would already be at dinner.”
“Me too.”
“Is he running late?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sighing. “I keep calling, but he’s not answering. The reservation was almost an hour ago. I saw him earlier and asked if I was going to see him, but he said no. I thought he was teasing.”
“How weird,” she said. “And rude.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the box.
She grimaced and tried to hide it. “I was going to leave it at your door. It was a congratulations gift.”
Congratulations because we both thought Scott was going to pop the question tonight.
“Thanks.”
“You look nice,” she said, smiling.
“Thanks,” I said, sighing. “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”
“Why don’t we go to the restaurant together? You’re already dressed up, and it’s a shame to let the night go to waste. We’ll drink some nice wine and eat overpriced appetizers.”
At first, I hesitated. The idea of salvaging the evening felt like a desperate attempt to mend something that had already shattered. But then, a spark of defiance ignited within me. Why should I let Scott ruin my night?
“Let’s do it,” I said, smiling. “This face took a lot of work.”
She laughed as we walked out. The restaurant was packed as usual. We made our way to the bar and ordered cocktails and a basket of stuffed mushrooms to split. The quiet atmosphere was filled with a soft, golden glow from the low-hanging chandeliers. The murmured conversations of diners provided a soothing backdrop. It wasn’t the dinner I had been expecting, but it was nice, nonetheless. It was one of my favorite restaurants, but it was also one of the most expensive in town, which meant I didn’t get to eat at it very often.
My gaze wandered around the room, taking in the cozy ambiance of the restaurant. But then, as if the universe had a cruel sense of timing, my eyes locked onto a sight that sent shockwaves through me. Across the room sat Scott, sharing an intimate dinner with another woman. They were both leaning across the table like they were trying to get closer. He was smiling and looking at her the way he used to look at me.
My breath caught in my throat. As I watched them, a painful realization sank in. Scott, the man I thought was planning a surprise dinner for us, was with someone else. They held hands across the table. I watched as he leaned in for a kiss. The world seemed to blur. The blood drained from my face and an icy chill raced down my spine. I felt a sensation akin to my heart being ripped out of my chest.
Amber noticed my expression and followed my gaze. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the scene unfolding before us. “Asshole,” she hissed under her breath.
Without a word, I stood up, the bar stool scraping against the floor. I barely heard anything. I had tunnel vision. It was just me and my cheating boyfriend in the busy restaurant. Everything else faded away as I walked toward the table where Scott and his other girlfriend sat.
As I approached, Scott looked up, his eyes widening in shock at the unexpected intrusion. “Catherine!”
Scott stammered as he withdrew his hand from the woman’s grasp. I noted the way his lips formed a tight line, the color draining from his face. The woman turned to me, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Do I know you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, my voice shaking. “But you seem to know my boyfriend quite well.”
The woman’s face fell, her eyes darting between Scott and me. It was as if she was trying to process what was happening, but it wasn’t fast enough.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” Scott began, rushing out the words as if they could somehow dampen the reality of his betrayal. “Catherine, I—”
“Save it,” I interrupted, holding up a hand to stop his stumbling response. “I don’t need your apologies, Scott. Or your excuses. What I need is for you to look me in the eye and tell me how long this has been going on.”
He hesitated, confirming my suspicions even before he muttered, “A few months.”
“So, while I was busy planning our future, you were busy ruining it,” I spat at him.
The woman across from him looked mortified, her gaze flitting nervously between us.
“Catherine, stop,” Scott said with exasperation, as if I was the one ruining his life.
“It’s over,” I declared, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. “Enjoy your dinner,” I added before I walked away.
Amber rose from her seat, shooting a dirty look at Scott and his new woman. Without saying a word, we left the restaurant behind, the door closing on the shattered remnants of the evening. Amber and I walked in silence back to her car.
The reality of the situation sank in. The person I had trusted, the one I believed would be my partner in creating a future, had betrayed me in the worst way possible. He was a despicable man.
“He’s a dick,” Amber said. “You’re better off without him.”
“Why wouldn’t he just tell me he didn’t love me anymore?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
“Because he’s a coward. He wanted his cake, ice cream, sprinkles, and the whole nine yards. It’s not like he’s that great of a catch. You can do better. Let her have him. He’ll screw her over soon enough. Men like that never learn. They leave a path of destruction in their wake, and when they get to the end of the road, they wonder why they are lonely old farts. Fuck him.”
I felt a mix of emotions. They were all at war with one another. Anger, sadness, and a sense of liberation all vied for the top spot. The pain was raw, but so was the newfound clarity. Scott’s actions had severed the ties that bound us, but they also released me from the illusion of a relationship that was built on deceit. I supposed it was lucky for me I found out. This thing could have dragged out for weeks or months.
I shook it all off. The wounds would heal, the scars would fade, and the strength within me would prevail. Scott was not going to get me down. I refused to let him win.
