I figured wrong. We got a table near the window. She was wearing that yellow sundress I told her once made her look like sunshine. I remember thinking she looked beautiful. I remember thinking how lucky I was.
We ordered coffee. She barely looked at the menu. She kept glancing at her phone, then at the door, then at her phone again. Her leg was bouncing under the table, a nervous habit she'd had since childhood, she'd told me. "You okay?"
I asked. "Fine." She said, not looking at me. "Just fine." I should have pressed.
Maybe I didn't want to know. And then the door opened, and her entire face transformed. I can't describe it any other way. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Her eyes widened, her posture straightened, and a smile spread across her face that I hadn't seen in months.
Not aimed at me. Not in a long time. She was suddenly completely alive. I followed her gaze to the door. A guy stood there, tall, athletic build, dark hair, with the kind of casual confidence that comes from never being told no.
He was scanning the room with a faint smirk, like he already knew everyone wanted his attention. Mark. I didn't know it was him at first, not consciously, but my body knew. Something cold settled in my stomach. Jenna's hand shot out and grabbed my forearm.
Her nails dug in. "Move," she whispered. I stared at her. "What? Move?"
Her voice was low, urgent, almost frantic. "He's about to sit here. Just go to the bathroom or something. I'll explain later." I blinked.
I genuinely, honestly thought I had misheard her. "Jenna, what are you?" She physically pushed my arm, shoving me toward the edge of the booth, her eyes never leaving Mark's approaching figure. Her wedding fever smile was back in place, plastered on and radiant. "Go," she hissed.
"Now." I sat frozen for what felt like an hour, but was probably 3 seconds. I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw nothing I recognized. There was no hesitation in her expression, no guilt, no flicker of apology. She wasn't worried about how this would make me feel.
She wasn't worried about me at all. She was worried about me being in the way. Mark was maybe 15 ft from our table now, close enough that I could see the smug half grin on his face, close enough that I could see him look at me with the faintest flicker of amusement, like I was a piece of furniture he was about to replace. Something inside me went very, very quiet. I didn't yell.
I didn't argue. I didn't demand an explanation or make a scene. I simply reached into my pocket, pulled out a $20 bill, and set it on the table next to my untouched coffee. Then I slid out of the booth. Jenna exhaled in what sounded like relief.
She was already shifting over, already adjusting her hair, already erasing me from the moment. I walked past Mark without looking at him. I walked past the hostess stand without a word. I walked out the front door and into the bright Sunday sunshine and I kept walking until I reached my car. The drive home took 12 minutes.