She’d picked the Obsidian Room. Said it was one of her favourites.
I made myself look perfect for it. For her. Polished my brown Crockett & Jones shoes till they sparkled. Wore my blue Brioni suit and white Turnbull & Asser shirt. I was ready. For her.
Got there early so I could watch her arrive. Picked a table with a view of the door. Pretended to read the menu, but I couldn’t concentrate. Butterflies swarmed every time the door opened.
My stomach dropped. The universe wobbled. For a second (an hour?), I heard only pulse in my ears. She’d arrived. Strode through the door like it was built just for this moment.
The waiter hesitated, caught off guard. Hadn’t expected someone like her to walk in. Everyone could see his butterflies. Pathetic. He pulled out a chair, and she lowered herself with perfect calm. Her throne.
She tapped her finger against the rim of the wine glass, once, twice, as if testing the note. Ordered a bottle of Malbec before the sommelier could speak. From somewhere I’d never heard of. Listed right at the bottom of the page.
When the bottle arrived, she took it and poured her own glass. Careful, precise. A drop ran down the side. Blood red. She brushed it with her thumb and dabbed her mouth. Eyes closed, she breathed out softly. Mouth slightly open.
Back in the room, she leaned back. Surveyed her surroundings. A tiny crease appeared at the corner of her mouth. A private thought caused a smile. A thought of me?
The waiter came by again. Needy. He leaned in too close to ask a question. She listened with her whole face, attentive, kind. Nodded once, then twice, before dismissing him with a smile so soft it must have carried him through the rest of his shift.
She adjusted her cutlery, though no food had arrived yet. Aligned the knife with the fork as if order itself mattered. The candle beside her flickered. She leaned forward slightly, bringing her face into the glow.
Her earrings glinted when she turned her head. Small silver hoops that swung gently. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I felt it in my chest.
The bread came warm. She tore at it with delicate, deliberate fingers. Her lips brushed the crust before each bite. Crumbs dotted the tablecloth in constellations. A creator of worlds.
Her eyes swept the room. Never hurried. As though she were assessing, approving, permitting the world to exist around her. Held my breath every time they passed near me.
Her phone pinged, and she stood. Turned to face the door. Should I stand with her? Say her name? Embrace her from behind? I could hold on forever.
She adjusted the strap of her dress on her shoulder. A tiny movement, half an inch of skin revealed, then covered again.
The door opened. Simon arrived. Jadyn skipped to meet him. Grinning, waving, laughing. They touched hands. Stared at each other. Wingless butterflies spilled onto the floor.
He’s a cunt.
I should have left then. That would have been the end of it. But I stayed. Sat back down and let the shadows take over.
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