That Man 2 by Nelle L'Amour

emotions into a tailspin. Wearing his preppy horn rim glasses in lieu of his contacts, my soon-to-be ex was surprised to see me.
    “Hi, Jen. What are you doing here?” His voice was on edge. “Is everything okay?”
    Fuck no. I whipped out my cell phone from my bag. I clicked onto the video and shoved the phone into his face.
    “What were you doing here?” My voice shook with rage.
    In tandem, his face blanched, his eyes rounded, and his mouth quivered. Then to my utter horror, he flashed his big toothy smile and chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little Christmas smoo—”
    I bitterly cut him off. “Don’t bullshit me, Bradley. You’re fucking Candace. And you’ve been doing it for months.” His eyes lowered. I’d called him on it. Victory fueled my rage. “When were you going to tell me? After we got married? Or maybe you expected me to drop in on one of your little late night work sessions?” Fillings, my ass!
    Bradley chewed down on his bottom lip and shifted nervously in place. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    A familiar voice sounded in the distance. “Braddie Waddie, what’s going on?”
    Candace. That’s all it took. I did something I thought I’d never do in my life. With all my force, my free hand whipped across his face. I slapped him. Hard. The sound of the sting echoed in my ears.
    Bradley winced with pain. Guess he could give it but couldn’t take it. His hand flew to his face and rubbed the large red welt I’d left behind on his cheekbone. I noticed for the first and last time how small his fingers were. Just like his roaming dick.
    “Why’d you do that?” he moaned.
    “For the same reason I’m going to do this,” I shouted. Without wasting a second, I tore his engagement ring off from my finger and flung it at him. It bounced off a lens of his glasses and then landed with a ping somewhere on the front step.
    “Bitch!” shrieked Bradley, his hand flying to his eyes. “You fucking broke my glasses!”
    “And you fucking broke my heart, Dickwick.”
    With that, I stormed back to the car. Scorching tears streamed down my ice-cold cheeks. My hands still shaking, I deleted the incriminating e-mail. And in my heart, I deleted Bradley. It was officially over for us.
    *
    When I got back to my house, Libby was home. Her Mini Cooper was parked in the driveway. I pulled up behind it and wearily made my way through the front door.
    Libby was curled up on the couch drinking some wine. “Hi,” she said brightly until she caught sight of my tear-stained face. “Sheesh. What the fuck is wrong? You look awful.”
    I’d cried so many tears I thought I had no more to shed. Wrong. A fresh batch sprung from my burning eyes. “I broke up with Bradley,” I wailed.
    “Oh my God.” Libby jumped up from the couch and curled her arms around me. I wept on her shoulder. “Sit down and tell me everything,” she said softly as she led me back to the couch.
    Facing her, sitting cross-legged, I launched into the story of how I discovered Bradley was cheating on me with Candace. I paused occasionally to catch my breath or swipe away my tears.
    Though never one to hold back, Libby listened intently and silently as I, blow by blow, told her what happened. Her hazel eyes blinked rapidly as she digested everything. Libby begged to see the footage, but I told her I’d deleted it. That I couldn’t bear to watch it again.
    When I got toward the end of my woeful tale, my bestie’s freckled face lit up with surprise. “You seriously slapped his face?”
    With a sniffle, I nodded. “And then I threw his ring at him and cracked his eyeglasses.”
    Libby burst into laughter and gave me hug. “Good for you. I never liked that dickwad. Trust me, it’s meant to be he’s out of your life. Just think if you’d married him.”
    “You’re right,” I conceded before taking a much needed sip of her red wine. The cheap Burgundy seeped through my veins and warmed me.
    “What am I going to tell my parents?