Page 20 of It Should Have Been Me

She gives me a slanted look of disbelief. “Courtney dumpedyou. Why?”

Our waitress returns with our order, places our meals in front of us, then leaves again. It’s almost like we’re driven by habit, because without a word said, we start sharing our food. I cut a few slices of my chicken and leave it on the side of my plate so she can take a piece whenever she wants. She does the same with her hake. It would be easier to just swap the food over to the other person’s plate, but we don’t eat like that, so there’s just the constant crossing of arms as we help ourselves to each other’s food. It feels so natural, yet at the same time, wildly out of place.

My brain is still playing weird tricks on me. The woman in front of me is Catalina, but somehow...she’s not. She doesn’t look like her. She doesn’t sound like her. She speaks differently now. More eloquent and poised. It makes our whole interaction seem...professional. I’m not sure if it’s that or my simmering anger over the way things ended between us that’s making this conversation pleasant, but still mildly tense. I’m enjoying talking to her, but I just want her to be...Cat again. It’s so weird. She’s right in front of me, yet the woman I once loved still seems thousands of miles away.

“Dumped is such a harsh word.” I push past the weirdness, pick an olive from her salad, and pop it into my mouth. “Courtney is, like, all-round amazing, just really sweet, so she was almost...nurturing about the whole breakup. She very kindly told me that I was emotionally unavailable and that I should consider therapy to deal with my unresolved abandonment issues from my parents. It’s apparently stopping me from connecting with another person, and it’s probably the reason I can’t fall in love.”

She reaches over to take another piece of chicken from my plate. “Is there some truth to that?”

I half snort, half-laugh. “Nah, I can connect with another person just fine. Falling in love was easy for me. It’s falling out of love that seems to be damn near impossible.”

“You are preaching to the choir!” The gleam in her eyes lets me know that she understands me. “Dude, the struggle is real.”

“Right? Put it up top, girl.” I raise my hand. “You know what I’m talking about.”

She giggles, giving me a high five, and I start to see a glimmer of who she used to be. Man, I miss her smile. Still the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. Still lights up my whole world.

“You know, you’re still calling megirllike you used to when we were younger. You do realize I’m not a girl anymore?” She cocks an eyebrow, trying to sound mature. “I’m awomannow.”

“Yeah, I’m...verymuch aware of that.” My eyes sweep over her body, lingering a little too long on her chest. “When did you get those?”

“What?” She stops chewing. A blush creeps up her cheeks and she sits there shocked, gaping at me. “Are you seriously checking out my boobs right now?”

“How can I not? They’re soperkythis morning.” My eyes move back to the cleavage peeping out of her pink tank top. Her breasts are still pert and small like I remember, but damn, they are just the fullest versions of themselves. “Just all up there...sayinghito everyone.”

Giggles spurt out of her, and she turns the cutest shade of red. And there she is. That’s the girl I dated for three years. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Can I touch it?” I ask just to get a more dramatic reaction.

She laughs harder. “No!”

“Just a quick grope...a tiny, little squeeze. You won’t even notice.”

“Still no.”

“Grinch!” I like that I can still joke with her like this and hearing her laughter makes me want to recapture the essence of what we once were even more.

“I see why your blind dates go so well,” she teases. “You’re such a charmer.”

“Cat, if my blind dates had tits like yours, I wouldn’t mind them being stage-five clingers. They could cling to me as much as they want, rub themselvesallover me. But seriously, though...Can I touch it?”

Her squeaky giggles draw laughter out of me this time. People in the bistro are looking at us like we’re crazy. And I guess we are. I’m joking with my ex-fiancé about groping her tits.

“You never give up. It’s—” Her ringing phone cuts her off, and the smile drops off her face. “It’s JP.”

By her tone, I figure JP is her new boyfriend. Somehow, it sucks all the playfulness out of the moment. It’s a video call, so I mentally brace myself for the conversation that’s about to happen right in front of me.

“Hi, love,” she greets, and I grit my teeth.

“Ma chérie, I miss your face.” His thick French accent floats through the speaker of her phone. “My heart is singing just seeing you.”

I roll my eyes. Who the fuck talks like that?

“Look at what a little distance does to you,” she teases with a hiccup of a laugh. “Now you’re all poetic and openly telling me how much you miss me. I should go away more often.”

“I only miss you a little.”

Seeing the smile on her face as she speaks to him is ripping me open. She used to smile at me like that.

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