Page 72 of Grounded
I confirm both lattes are perfect. I do the caramel swirl with gentle, careful hands.
When I place the finished drinks on the counter to be collected, they give a polite smile even though they can cut the tension with a knife.
She gives a bewildered, "Thanks," and makes a beeline for the door.
Beckett mouths, "I'll text you," so his unassuming fiancée doesn't notice.
I flip him off instead but use my ring finger.
As soon as they are out of sight, I run to the bathroom and cry.
Tawnygivesmeaten-minute break so I walk the seawall to get some fresh air.
Beckett proposed? How did all this happen in the span of a month? He wasn't even with her that long. And what the hell is he doing in my hometown? He's not from here.
When we broke up, he barely gave me any information about this mystery girl. The only thing I knew was they had been together for six months.
Who the hell gets engaged before they've been together a year?
I'm reminded of the movieLeap Yearand how the male main character proposed after only three days. Sure, it's all hypothetical and fictional, but this doesn't happen in real life.
I want to text him, but it's none of my business.
But shouldn't she know? Why should she spend the rest of her life with a man who cheated? Would I want to know?
So many questions swirl my mind like the caramel I splattered all over their drinks.
Hopefully, Beckett is shitting his brains out right about now. Because yes, I used whole milk for that asshole.
I can feel the sun burning my shoulders through the fabric of my shirt. It's in the high 80's, and I don't want to go back into the store sweating, so I turn around and head back.
But right before I step through the backdoor, Beckett texts.
I want to throw up.
WhenIgethomeand have the comforting smell of my own duvet, I reread Beckett's text in the cave of my blankets. I don't answer yet.
He is old news. History. In the past.
I don't know if it helps that he's moved on in such a dramatic way, but I'm hoping this will help me get the closure I need. We are done.
I am Bette Midler from theFirst Wives Club: frumpy, damaged goods. His fiancée is the exquisite Sarah Jessica Parker: the hot replacement and new object of Beckett's desires. Except in the movie, Bette reconciles with her ex, and I don't see that happening now.
I text Beckett.
As soon as I hit send, my phone rings. He's calling.
"You little shit." Beckett has the gall to break the unspoken rule of calling instead of texting back. And yet, I answer anyway.
"What?"
"Amelia, don't hang up."
He's not whispering, so wherever he is must be safe enough to have this conversation.
"You have one minute before I hang up and I block you for good."
"Okay…okay…where do I start?"
