to remind you that honesty is the best policy.”
“Oh, quit being self-righteous!” I snapped, long-buried feeling suddenly breaking out into the open. “Your first boyfriend didn’t try to get you to sleep with another woman just to prove you loved him!”
There was a silence. I was about to apologize but Stephen spoke first. “Maybe resolution is what you need,” he said gently.
“I’m sorry. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” I said quietly. The adrenaline rush of being with Jason and trying to keep my story straight suddenly gave way to sadness. I put down my plate and moved over to the armchair with my vodka tonic. “I really loved him, you know. I know it was a long time ago and everything, but he meant a lot to me. And then—I felt like he betrayed me.”
“I think it’s safe to say he did betray you, girlfriend.”
“I’m actually not sure if he slept with her or not.”
“Even if he didn’t, he betrayed you by taking advantage of your trust.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I nodded. “For a long time, I waited for him to say he was sorry, but he never did.” I was silent for a moment. “Anyway, so how do I go about getting resolution here?”
Stephen looked contemplative. “Well, now that you’ve gotten your catching-up-with-each-other’s-lives chat out of the way, how about you just meet up with him someplace quiet where you can talk and say, ‘Hey, so why did you try to get me to sleep with this other girl?’ See what he says.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He shrugged. “Well, I mean, he could do anything from apologize, to make a joke about it, to just ignore you—I can’t promise you’ll get the answer you’re looking for. But I think you owe it to yourself to try.”
I nodded vaguely. Stephen was right: I did need to talk to Jason.
Chapter 13
Jason
I wasn’t really sure what, if anything, I should do now. I wanted to stay in touch with her. Now that I’d had a glimpse of her again, the thought of never seeing her again was too terrible to contemplate. But I felt weird keeping in touch with her when she was engaged. I wondered what her fiancé thought about her hanging out with an old boyfriend. I decided to play it cool for at least a few days and think about it some more.
Then I got her text the next day:
Monica: Coffee Sunday a.m.? Would love to catch up more.
I forgot about being cool and texted back almost immediately.
Jason: 10:00 ok? Let me know where.
She gave me her address and suggested that I meet her there. I was nervous at the thought of meeting her fiancé, but then I decided it might remove some of the awkwardness if I just met him and got it over with.
Sunday morning, I picked up a bag of French pastries on the way and arrived at her doorstep promptly at ten. The building was pretty impressive; no doorman, but a beautiful building in an expensive neighborhood. I sighed regretfully, thinking of how far I hadn’t come, career-wise.
She opened the door and smiled when I handed her the pastries. “You know my weakness! Come on in.”
“Nice place,” I said as I looked around. It had a very polished, put-together look. I thought of the apartment I shared with Matt, with its scratched-up floor and grad student furniture. She led me into the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a marble-topped counter. I took a seat on one of the stools next to it. “How long have you guys been living together?”
“Not long,” she said with a shrug. She gestured at an espresso machine, a gleaming red Ascaso Dream. I wasn’t too up on high-end kitchen appliances, but I could tell it was expensive. “Cappuccino? Espresso? What can I get you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Fancy. How about a cappuccino?”
“Just a moment.” She flipped a switch and got some milk out of the refrigerator.
“Good thing you were a barista in college,” I said.
She laughed. “I acquired one useful skill, at least.” She took the
“Oh, quit being self-righteous!” I snapped, long-buried feeling suddenly breaking out into the open. “Your first boyfriend didn’t try to get you to sleep with another woman just to prove you loved him!”
There was a silence. I was about to apologize but Stephen spoke first. “Maybe resolution is what you need,” he said gently.
“I’m sorry. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” I said quietly. The adrenaline rush of being with Jason and trying to keep my story straight suddenly gave way to sadness. I put down my plate and moved over to the armchair with my vodka tonic. “I really loved him, you know. I know it was a long time ago and everything, but he meant a lot to me. And then—I felt like he betrayed me.”
“I think it’s safe to say he did betray you, girlfriend.”
“I’m actually not sure if he slept with her or not.”
“Even if he didn’t, he betrayed you by taking advantage of your trust.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I nodded. “For a long time, I waited for him to say he was sorry, but he never did.” I was silent for a moment. “Anyway, so how do I go about getting resolution here?”
Stephen looked contemplative. “Well, now that you’ve gotten your catching-up-with-each-other’s-lives chat out of the way, how about you just meet up with him someplace quiet where you can talk and say, ‘Hey, so why did you try to get me to sleep with this other girl?’ See what he says.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He shrugged. “Well, I mean, he could do anything from apologize, to make a joke about it, to just ignore you—I can’t promise you’ll get the answer you’re looking for. But I think you owe it to yourself to try.”
I nodded vaguely. Stephen was right: I did need to talk to Jason.
Chapter 13
Jason
I wasn’t really sure what, if anything, I should do now. I wanted to stay in touch with her. Now that I’d had a glimpse of her again, the thought of never seeing her again was too terrible to contemplate. But I felt weird keeping in touch with her when she was engaged. I wondered what her fiancé thought about her hanging out with an old boyfriend. I decided to play it cool for at least a few days and think about it some more.
Then I got her text the next day:
Monica: Coffee Sunday a.m.? Would love to catch up more.
I forgot about being cool and texted back almost immediately.
Jason: 10:00 ok? Let me know where.
She gave me her address and suggested that I meet her there. I was nervous at the thought of meeting her fiancé, but then I decided it might remove some of the awkwardness if I just met him and got it over with.
Sunday morning, I picked up a bag of French pastries on the way and arrived at her doorstep promptly at ten. The building was pretty impressive; no doorman, but a beautiful building in an expensive neighborhood. I sighed regretfully, thinking of how far I hadn’t come, career-wise.
She opened the door and smiled when I handed her the pastries. “You know my weakness! Come on in.”
“Nice place,” I said as I looked around. It had a very polished, put-together look. I thought of the apartment I shared with Matt, with its scratched-up floor and grad student furniture. She led me into the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a marble-topped counter. I took a seat on one of the stools next to it. “How long have you guys been living together?”
“Not long,” she said with a shrug. She gestured at an espresso machine, a gleaming red Ascaso Dream. I wasn’t too up on high-end kitchen appliances, but I could tell it was expensive. “Cappuccino? Espresso? What can I get you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Fancy. How about a cappuccino?”
“Just a moment.” She flipped a switch and got some milk out of the refrigerator.
“Good thing you were a barista in college,” I said.
She laughed. “I acquired one useful skill, at least.” She took the
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