Chapter 2
My original plan for New Year's Eve was to stay in.
But then I remembered a phone call I had overheard a few days ago. Edward mentioned a new Michelin-starred place I had been gushing about for weeks.
At the time, I had assumed he was planning a surprise for me.
The thought made me antsy. I grabbed my phone and called my bestie, Sophie Lane.
"You free tonight?" I asked. "Let's do dinner."
*****
Even though we got there early, the place was a zoo. A sea of people were celebrating New Year's Eve.
A waitress approached us with a polite smile.
"Reservation, ladies?"
I confidently gave her my name, but she just shook her head apologetically.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't have anything under that name."
My mind raced.
"Oh, my husband must have booked it," I said, flashing a sweet smile. "Could you check for Edward Grant?"
I rattled off his cell number.
The waitress smiled.
"Of course, Mrs. Grant. Right this way."
The moment our food was served, I took a picture and fired it off to Edward. Then, I called him.
"I decided to try my luck with a walk-in," I chirped, "but I should have known you'd be one step ahead of me! You even booked a table!
"How did you know this is exactly where I'd want to be tonight?"
Grinning, I poured on the fake gratitude.
"No wonder you told me to go out with a friend. Thanks, honey. You're the best!"
There was a beat of awkward silence on his end before he finally laughed.
"Just a lucky guess. You've mentioned it so many times that I figured you might forget to make a reservation yourself.
"I'm surprised it came in handy."
Was his excuse flimsy?
Not at all.
The old Edward would have done something like this for me without a second thought.
But I knew, with absolute certainty, this reservation wasn't for me.
The first clue was the lamb on the table. He knew I couldn't stand it. But the real confirmation came in the form of a new message sent to my phone.
It was from my private investigator.
The attached photo showed two people standing on a street corner not far from the restaurant.
Edward was on the phone with me, a strained smile plastered on his face. Next to him, Lily looked like her world was ending.
I hung up and slipped my phone back into my purse, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over me.
Let them be disappointed. My own happiness mattered.
Anyway, who made the rule that a man has to be the one to give you surprises? I was perfectly happy creating my own.
As for them, they could go eat at a food truck for all I cared.
Half an hour later, I was aimlessly scrolling through my socials when a new post from Lily popped up.
[It's not about what you eat but who you eat with. Love is nourishment for the soul.]
The accompanying photo was of a huge seafood boil.
And there, in the corner of the frame, "casually" included, was a man's hand with distinct knuckles.
I recognized his hands anywhere. I knew the tiny mole on his index finger.
That post was for me. I was sure of it. She hadn't posted in months. After I'd hijacked her necklace and her dinner plans, she was clearly getting desperate.
My fingers moved quickly. I took a screenshot, and, for good measure, I liked the post.
A minute later, I refreshed my feed. Her post was gone.
So it was just for me. This girl was something else. The more I thought about it, the more pathetic it seemed. If she wanted love so badly, she could have it.
It was not worth anything anyway.