“The wedding is off. I don’t love you anymore.”
Brandon said it loudly enough for the entire bistro to hear.
The Saturday lunch crowd seemed to freeze.
Forks stopped halfway to mouths. Conversations faded. People at nearby tables turned toward our window seat, the exact table Brandon had insisted on when we walked through the door.
For a moment, nobody moved.
I sat there with my fork still hovering over my plate.
At the next table, three of Brandon’s friends were watching us.
Tyler.
Josh.
Kevin.
They had been there when we arrived.
Brandon had called it a coincidence.
Now, looking at their faces, I wasn’t so sure.
They were watching me with the kind of anticipation people have when they believe they are about to witness something dramatic.
They expected tears.
They expected me to beg.
They expected a broken woman sitting across from the man who had just destroyed her wedding plans.
