Page 79 of For Butter or Worse
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NINA
Choosing the bathroom as a hideout was not her brightest idea. She couldn’t stay in there forever—eventually she’d need food, water and to not hear toilet sounds.
The inside of a locked stall was, however, an excellent spot to check her phone. More specifically, to see if Leo had called or read her texts, which he hadn’t. And based on the last flurry she’d fired off, she wasn’t sure she could—or should—send another.
Nina:Whoops, meant to send that to someone else! haha
Nina:Put down the kale salad and call me back!
Nina:I know I was rude, but you’re also being rude now.
Nina:Ruder than usual.
Nina:Fine... I’ll go hiking again if you call me back.
Nina:Please call me back...
He couldn’t stay angry with her, not over something as silly as a text. Even if her text had suggested he was bad for her, it was a harmless accident. He had to understand that, right? Pissing him off used to be the highlight of her day, but now her stomach churned.
Or maybe her stomach was in knots because she’d come to a restaurant with Charlie and he was waiting at a table for her. How had this become her life? Stuck in a love triangle with her ex-boyfriend and a man she was fake dating. Maybe staying in this stall could be a long-term solution.
She took three deep belly breaths the way Leo had taught her.
Breathe.
Leo said to breathe.
Ahhh, Leo.
I’m losing my mind.
She shook out her shoulders, willing herself to stop obsessing, then left the stall and washed her hands. She told herself that he would call or text at some point. Yes, she’d fucked up, but eventually he’d have to acknowledge her. He had to. And if he didn’t, she’d go to him and make him understand. As soon as she dealt with Charlie.
She left the bathroom and returned to the main lobby at Soho House, which was a members-only restaurant and bar known more for celebrity sightings. It surprised Nina that Charlie had chosen to bring them here instead of some hipster-owned farm-to-table place. But, then again, he’d been full of surprises lately. Showing up at her house, then her restaurant, and now...
What she did enjoy about Soho was the outdoor patio with floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a seemingly limitless view of Los Angeles. The sky was overcast, with puffy gray clouds blocking the sun. She would normally relish a view like this, but Charlie happened to be framed in it.
“Ordered a bottle of Tempranillo,” he blurted out before she’d even had a chance to sit down. “Yourfavorite.” He poured her a glass, but she gently pushed the drink back toward him.
Clarifying to Charlie that she actually preferred white to the full-bodied and spicy red wasn’t worth the waste of oxygen. Neither was explaining to him that when they dated, she was a different person—not herself. She’d been so riddled with insecurities that she never shared what her real preferences were. Going along with whatever his whims were seemed easier, at the time, but she wasn’t about to get in to their history. She needed him to say whatever he needed to say so she could go fix her relationship with Leo.
“I was hoping to clear the air around how we left things...” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, probably because the last words he’d said to her involved how he was embarrassed to be dating a reality star, and then she’d promptly told him to fuck off and that they were over. Yeah...not the best terms.
“If this is about kissing me the other day without my consent, you’re not forgiven. But I will forget it.” Whatever she had with Leo had proven that she was capable of moving on, physically and emotionally.
She didn’t feel the tether that had always kept her tied to Charlie anymore. He shifted in his seat and their knees touched. He used to set her on fire just with a look, but now there was no spark where his leg met hers.
“Can you blame me? When you go walking around looking like...” Charlie licked his lips, but she got the sense he’d rather be licking her. He reached across the table, wrapping his hand around the tips of her fingers.
She decided to squeeze his hand back. Then she focused on him and pouted as she said, “What about you? You come over, looking like...” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Someone who doesn’t seem to be able to take the hint that I’m no longer interested.” She released his hand, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Now, why did you bring me here?”
“Had to take my shot, what can I say?” He shook his head and avoided her eyes as he said, “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. When we were together, I was still figuring out who I was. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated. I sincerely hope you can forgive me for that.”
Was it possible that all he wanted was to clear his conscience?
And while she didn’t owe him any kind of neat ending with a cherry on top, part of her wondered if forgiving him would help her, too. The mere idea of ever seeing him again had always filled her with dread. What would she say? Would she crumble in his presence? What would he think of her?
