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Thirty minutes after Mia sashays out of the Love Notes office completely confident that her perfect, billionaire husband is out there waiting for her, convinced that I lack any of the credentials to help her find him—but still willing to spend her mother’s money, just in case—and completely unwavering in her belief that I am a love pariah, I am sitting at a table in the restaurant where Greg and I had our first date.
He also proposed to me here. It is the perfect place for our love story to resume. I shift in my seat, wiggling like a little kid waiting for Santa.
I am a bit early, but thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Greg to appear. My eyes are fixed on the entrance, so I see him the moment he arrives.
The butterflies flit around my stomach. This is really happening. He speaks briefly to the hostess, then nods towards me. His face is serious, belying how nervous he must be. I vow to make it as easy for him as I can. He might have broken my heart, but I still love him, and I don’t want to increase his anguish.
“I'm getting married.” Greg doesn’t meet my eyes as he sits down in the chair across the table from me.
A roaring sound in my ears drowns out the busy restaurant noises as I fight to breathe around the tangled knot of insects trying to burst out of my chest. My eyes flit from Greg to the tacky gold tinsel draped along the walls and back to him.
I was going to open the conversation with some witty remark about Mia Grady and her quest for a love match, giving him the perfect opening. But he didn’t even bother to remove his coat before dropping a bomb on me.
“To Julia?” The word comes out as little more than a croak. I am not getting enough oxygen to my brain.
I force the corners of my mouth wider, trying to keep a smile on my face. He can’t know he has caught me completely by surprise. It would be too mortifying. I can’t let him know what a fool I am. My mouth feels rigid, like rigor mortis is setting in, but I am too focussed on trying to pull air into my lungs to care.
This isn’t supposed to happen. I would give anything to be back at the office dealing with Mia and her smug, entitled attitude. Instead of sitting here while my heart shatters.
“Who else would I be marrying other than Julia?” Greg’s eyes narrow in that condescending way that means he thinks I am overreacting.
I snatch my gaze away, terrified that he will see the truth in it.
Greg can’t ever know that I was so pathetic as to believe that he still wanted me. Of course, he is marrying Julia, my beautiful, slender, and so much younger next-door neighbour. He has been “dating” her almost since the moment we got divorced. I mentally put air quotes around dating, because he is almost fifty, for God’s sake.
Can he really be marrying a woman who looks young enough to be friends with his stepdaughters?
Not that age matters when it comes to love. It is just that it was supposed to be me. She was only a rebound fling. It wasn’t supposed to stick.
“I just meant it seems kind of sudden.” The words come out in a rush. I am having trouble concentrating on holding a conversation as the vision of my wedding dress morphs into something slinkier and sexier that will look amazing on Julia and barely fit over my thighs. “What’s the rush?”
“Rush? Are you serious, Ruby? I’ve been seeing Julia for almost a year. You know that.”
“I just didn’t think you were that serious. Like maybe it was one of those midlife crisis relationships that guys have.”
“Midlife crisis? Jesus, Ruby.”
“And you’ve been coming to all those family dinners...”
I let my words trail off as I catch the subtle shift in his eyes. He has figured out what this is about. What I should do is grab my purse and walk away without looking back. I shouldn’t say one more word. I already sound desperate and pathetic.
But I have never had much control over my mouth, especially when it comes to Greg breaking my heart.
“We felt like a family again.” My words are a pleading murmur.
He drags his hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled in that way that has always made my feminine core react. “I thought you understood.”
“Understood? What is there to understand? Am I the only one fighting for our family?”
I know what I sound like, and I know I am going to have a regret hangover later. The day our divorce was final, I vowed I would never give this man the power to rip my heart out again. And here I am handing it to him. And he doesn’t even care, because he is marrying another woman.
“Ruby.” He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, like he is trying to gather his patience to deal with me. “I knew those dinners were a bad idea. I only came because it was easier than fighting with you. Julia said you would get the wrong idea.”
“Julia?” I push away from the table, almost leaping to my feet. It isn’t fair that he is bringing her into this argument. She means nothing. She is just my neighbour. My perky, perfect neighbour. She shouldn’t have a say in my life or my marriage. “What’s she got to do with this?”
Greg runs his hand through his hair again, and even in my overwrought state, I feel the flicker of heat in my core. I will probably realize later how pathetic it is that in this moment he would barely have to apologize, and I would take him back. But right now, all I can feel is my heart cracking, and the intense need to grab hold of him and never let him go.
“She has everything to do with this. We’re getting married,” he says, but I am barely listening.
I could walk away now and retain a shred of my dignity. Sure, Julia and Greg will have a few good stories to tell at their reception about me, but I could minimize the damage.
I choose a different route.
“But we were working on our relationship. Come on, you know there’s something there. You know you regret leaving.” I am almost begging now, and he won’t meet my eyes.
“Ruby, I need you to focus.”
The way he keeps saying my name is driving me nuts. It is the thing that parents do when they need their kids to really pay attention. Grown adults don’t constantly say each other’s names. He is managing me. And I hate that, but at the same time, I still love him. One word, and I would take him back. Forgive him everything.
“I didn’t ask you here just to tell you about our engagement,” he says slowly, like he is afraid that I will misunderstand. “I asked you here because the wedding is next week, and we want to take the kids on the honeymoon.”
“I’m not sure what your honeymoon has to do with me. Am I invited or something?” I chuckle nonchalantly, like I am not completely losing it inside.
I don’t quite pull it off.
Greg ignores my desperation. “It’s your year to have Jake for Christmas. If he comes on the honeymoon, then he won’t be spending Christmas with you. And I need you to approve that. We can switch things around for next year. Whatever you need.”
The roaring in my ears is reaching the peak of its crescendo, and I can’t focus on anything else. What I need is for Greg to tell me this was all a big joke. That he is here to ask me to take him back, that I am his soulmate, and he has just been wasting his time with Julia.
But he isn’t going to give me any of that, because our love story is truly over.
“I know Christmas means a lot to you, and this isn’t a small ask. But I need you to be reasonable about this.”
He needs me to be reasonable?! What about what I need? I need my husband back. I need my kids for Christmas. “But I'll be alone. I can't do Christmas alone, Greg. You know that.”
“Why do you insist on being so dramatic? You're not going to be alone. You've got Lillian and Abigail. It's more than enough.”
Greg is already pushing away from the table before I can formulate any kind of answer. There is something faulty about what he is saying, but I can’t seem to grab hold of it. On the surface, he is right. My daughters will be there. They are from my first marriage, and this ridiculous wedding charade has nothing to do with them. At least when their dad remarried, he chose someone who was born in the same decade as him.
It isn’t fair that women my age have to compete with women like Julia and Mia. Wisdom should count for more than unblemished skin and perky boobs.
“Carol has already agreed that Brandon and Leah can come. Jake is going to be devastated if he is the only one who doesn’t get to go. Just keep that in mind while you’re freaking out.”
Freaking out? I am not freaking out. If anything, I am melting down. Carol, Greg’s first wife and the mother of my two former stepkids, might be blasé about whether or not she sees her kids at Christmas, but I am certainly not.
Looks like Mia Grady was right. I am a middle-aged spinster destined to be the crazy cat lady. But hey, at least cats don’t stand you up when it really matters.
––––––––
AFTER GREG FINISHES telling me all the details about the wedding and the honeymoon—at least all the details that mess up my life—he leaves. He doesn’t order food or have a drink. He just walks out the door, leaving me breathing short, frantic breaths that have me just this side of hyperventilating.
A lady bumps against my chair, knocking me out of my laser-like focus. It doesn’t matter how hard I stare at the door. He isn’t coming back to tell me it was all a stupid joke. Biting my lip, I scramble to pull my phone out of my purse. My body feels strangely numb, even as my hands shake.
How did I misread the situation so completely? How did I think things were better, when in fact he was plotting the path to a brand-new life with my neighbour and my kid—one that doesn’t include me.
I stab at my phone screen, trying to unlock it. Why is technology so difficult for anybody who is over the age of forty? Are the tech companies doing it on purpose?
“Ruby! I was just going to call you.” Charlotte’s voice saves me from descending into the very public meltdown that has been building since Greg walked away, turning his back on everything we had.
“They all knew. I was the only one that didn’t.” My voice cracks. I was the last to know. Greg planned a wedding and a honeymoon, and I was the last to know.
“They knew what?” The tentative way she asks screams at me how worried she is.
Can I blame her? She was expecting a different kind of call. A blissfully happy report about my impending nuptials or maybe an update on the orientation with Mia Grady. Not a full Ruby meltdown.
“He said that he wanted to talk to me. He said he wanted to get my okay. But it was all a lie. It's always a lie with him.” The words tumble out of me. “It was already happening. It didn’t matter what I said.”
The really maddening part is that during his explanation, Greg pretended that my opinion about the situation mattered, but it turned out that was only so that his conscience wouldn’t bother him. He made it sound like I could choose to keep Jake with me for Christmas. Then he informed me that the tickets were already purchased, and Jake already knew about the trip. Telling me was just a formality. Apparently, they waited until the last minute, so that I couldn’t do what I always do and sabotage the whole thing.
I have no idea what that is even supposed to mean.
“Ruby, you're scaring me. What happened?”
“Greg.” It is the only thing I can get out.
“Shit.” Even over the phone, I can hear Charlotte mentally slapping her forehead. “I forgot your lunch with Greg was today. Are you okay? Scratch that. I know you’re not okay. What can I do?”
I grab the glass that magically appears in front of me and take a deep drink. I vaguely remember ordering it after Greg left, but it actually might have been the woman at the table next to me who bought it. She keeps giving me worried glances.
I shouldn’t be in public.
Whatever the drink is, it has just enough bite to it that I know that if I drink enough, then maybe the terrible pain bursting out of my numbness will go away, and I will be able to breathe again.
Then it hits me. Charlotte is too calm. It wasn't just Greg, Julia, Jake, and my stepkids who knew what was going on.
“You knew.”
“No,” Charlotte says quickly, like she is afraid that I am going to hang up on her. “I just suspected. What did the asshole do this time? He isn’t marrying Julia, is he?”
“Oh yes. He's marrying her next week. And he's taking Jake and his kids, my stepkids”—my voice cracks—“he's taking them for Christmas. Julia apparently wants them along on the honeymoon.” I pause, letting the truth wash over me. Julia is better at everything. She is even better at being a mother. There is no way that I would take my own kids on my honeymoon, never mind someone else’s.
I take another sip of my drink. The tequila—there is definitely tequila in it—burns my throat, making me cough. “Why did you let me come here? Why didn't you warn me?”
“Honey, you were so excited. I didn't have it in me to be the one to break your heart. But I should have. Are you doing okay?”
“Not right now,” I laugh harshly. “But when I get to the bottom of this glass a few times, I'm going to feel much better.”
“Ruby,” Charlotte says firmly. “You can’t get smashed. It’s your birthday party tonight. Marisol’s plane gets here soon, and I am pretty sure that Kelsey is already on the ferry. You just have to hold it together for a few more hours, then we will all be together, and we’ll get it worked out.”
I groan inwardly. Charlotte is right. It would feel so good to just once be the irresponsible one. But I know I will just end up regretting it if I let myself get drunk enough to forget and miss the party with my girlfriends. Besides, I still need to get through the rest of the workday—and Charlotte is my boss—then I need to pick up my son and be a functional parent until he goes to his dads, so that I can go out and party my face off for my forty-fifth birthday. I don’t have time to be irresponsible.
I breathe in a slow, calming breath. This isn't the first time that I have needed to keep going in the middle of a crisis. I am a mother. It is basically my entire job description. Or at least it was until Greg divorced me, and I had to get a full-time job where twenty-somethings look at me like a cautionary tale.
How pathetic am I that I actually thought that my forty-fifth birthday was going to mark a positive turning point in my life? Everyone knows it is a crappy milestone. There isn’t one person who looks forward to it, at least not anyone who isn’t delusional.
I suck in a second slow breath, because the first one didn’t do nearly enough to calm me down. Meditative breathing might not be the most fun way to bring things back to earth, but it usually results in fewer regrets than tequila.
Slowly, the room comes back into focus, and I can feel the tears retreat far enough that I know I can keep them at bay until I am alone in my room later. “Hey, wait. You said you were about to call me.”
“Don't worry about it,” Charlotte says in the voice she uses when she clearly needs my help but is too worried about my mental state to put any pressure on me.
“It's fine,” I say, but the long pause tells me she is not buying it. “Seriously, I'm fine. Just hit me with it.”
Charlotte sighs. She doesn’t want to give it to me, but she will. That is the way it works when you are the nurturer of the group. Everyone depends on you, then when they are done with you, they leave you for your beautiful neighbour.
I quickly shut the bitter thoughts down. It is not Charlotte’s fault that Greg doesn't want me anymore. And Charlotte would never leave me in a lurch.
“I was going to ask you to do the New Client Orientation this afternoon. I'm supposed to meet him in thirty minutes, but Marilyn phoned with another crisis...”
Marilyn Strickland is one of our best customers, if you base it purely on the amount of money she spends. If you add some other metrics, like finding any man that she is willing to go out on a second date with, then the data reads very differently.
At least she is one crisis that isn’t my problem. She always demands Charlotte, and I am a-okay with that. Marilyn makes Mia look angelic.
Even though Charlotte can't see me, I square my shoulders, putting on professionalism like it is armour. “Just send me all the details, and I’ll be there.” This is exactly what I need. Something to keep my mind off everything else. Charlotte needs me. I’ve got this.
Besides, maybe helping somebody else figure out their love life is exactly what I need to get my mind off Greg and the abysmal mess that is mine.