Page 62 of Breaking Emily's Rules
“You’ve tried to control too much, Em. Even your anger. And your no kissing rule? That can’t be healthy. When you see Greg tomorrow night, I want you to tell him off right in front of the entire restaurant.”
Greg had called and said he needed to see me again. It was important. He had a big request to make, and he’d sounded small and weak on the phone. I guessed things hadn’t worked out with Nika. She’d probably dumped him and found a new NFL boyfriend.
My plans were to wait for him to beg me to come back to him and then I’d get up and tell him exactly what a jerk he’d been.
“I will. I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him off.”
“He’ll never see it coming. The fool. Maybe you should let me go with you. Just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”
“No need. I’ve got this.”
“Make sure you wear the little black dress so he remembers what he left behind—what he’s never going to have again.” Rachel paused and threw me a significant look. “He’s never going to have it again, right?”
“You have to ask me that?”
“Just checking.”
We’d been yacking so long the movie was already at the scene in the restaurant. Sally was carrying on like she was having the best sex of her life, right across the booth from Harry.
“See that?” Rachel turned to me, a sly grin on her face. “I never have to fake it.”
The camera zeroed in on the wise older woman who told the waiter she wanted whatever Sally was having.
So did I.
* * *
The next evening,I launched Operation Make-Ex-Fiancé-Regret-It. The operation involved thong underwear, a push-up bra and that little black dress. It involved a straightening iron to tame my wild waves into submission, which took the better part of an hour. And finally, it involved cherry red Here-Come-my-Lips lipstick.
I’d practically worn myself out by the time six rolled around and I popped into the main house to let Grammy know I was off. “Don’t wait up.”
“What have you done to your hair?” Grammy asked from the kitchen sink. “It looks so—limp.”
“I prefer the words sleek and stylish.”
Grammy shook her head. “I happen to love your natural wave. And I haven’t seen you wearthatdress since your engagement party.”
“Exactly,” I said, trying on my sexiest smile.
“Why are you smiling like that? You look like a shark. What’s gotten into you?”
I hadn’t told Grammy because she might not understand. Hadn’t Grammy always taught me to be kind and forgiving? Some people couldn’t help the fact their gene pool had gifted them with an extra mean chromosome in their DNA strand. Poor souls. Just bless their hearts and and carry on.
Grammy meant well, but maybe that was how I had eventually wound up being a doormat.
“Nothing. I’m just going to meet an old friend for dinner and drinks.”
That was my story, and I’d stick to it. If Grammy was to find out I was on my way to meet Greg, she’d probably call a Pink Ladies’ intervention.
The Ladera was crowded for a Monday night, and the host said Greg had a table in the back.
Greg stood as I approached. Oh, the look on Greg’s face. Where was my camera?
“Emily.”
I stopped moving. Seated next to Greg was Nika, smiling. No, this had not been part of the plan. I was supposed to sit through dinner with my ex-fiancé, look good and tell him about how I’d moved on with my life. Or rather, had taken steps to move on with my life. Not watch these two lovebirds sit in front of me, mocking me with their whacked-out kitchen-floor happiness.
Damn you, Greg.I considered turning and walking out of the restaurant, but all eyes seemed to be on me. Greg made a move to pull a chair out for me, but the host beat him to it.
