One Night with Cinderella - Niobia Bryant Page 0,58
the weeks leading up to the night of her charity gala, she felt weighted down by her sadness. And regret.
“You do love him,” Phoebe said with emphasis.
Monica looked to her.
“I see it in the way you talk about him, and remember him,” the elder explained. “And miss him.”
“But he broke my heart. He gave up. He walked away. He left me,” Monica said, working her fingers as if to remove the tension she felt rise like a wave.
Phoebe stilled the frantic movement of her hand by covering it with her own. “Or...”
Monica looked to her again.
“Or your time together had come to its natural end,” the older woman offered. “If you spend a chunk of your life with someone and the majority is good—truly good—then you should never end it hating the other person. You move on and keep the good memories, learn the life lessons and be prepared for your next big adventure.”
“Another man?” Monica asked with a frown.
“No, not always. Sometimes you discover you in a way that you’ve never really known yourself. Or you travel. Or change careers. Or journal. Discover religion. Or write a book—and for some, hell, read a book. Or sometimes you discover you have a family member you never knew about and wished that you had,” she said.
Monica’s smile to her was warm and genuine.
“Life is all about change and newness, and sometimes people aren’t meant to be in your life forever...and the time you spent together is nothing to regret, no matter how it ends.”
“Like seasons?” Monica asked, rising to walk over to the window and look out at Central Park in the distance. The emerald green of the grass and the bright colors of the flowers gave it an idyllic look from where she stood.
“Exactly,” Phoebe stressed. “Each just as necessary as the last. Some more brutal than others.”
Monica crossed her arms over her chest. She blinked away tears that threatened to fall. She’d cried enough of them to fill a pond.
As she looked down at the street, she spotted a couple with their arms entwined as they walked and talked with each other. They laughed together before he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her off her feet and spin her before pressing a kiss to her cheek. It was like a scene from a romance movie. It even seemed to move along in slow motion, but she knew that was her imagination at play.
How long will their season last? And how will it end? A fiery explosion or a gentle goodbye? Or will it last forever?
Gabe.
She thought of him as she had a million times over the last two months—especially at night when the world seemed quiet and there was no work at the foundation, lunch with friends or enough TV shows to keep her mind occupied. She focused on the good times they shared. Those happy, pleasure-filled memories eased her heartache. Not much. But some.
Maybe even enough to do something she thought she’d dare not.
Monica looked over her shoulder at the writing desk against the wall before she turned and walked over to it, then bent and removed a large envelope from the wastepaper basket. It was dark brown, like chocolate, with gold block letters. She licked her lips as she traced her name and address before touching that of GABRIEL. The restaurant—his restaurant. Not the man.
“He did it,” she said, with the soft hint of a smile.
“Who?” Phoebe asked from the sofa.
Monica looked over at her as she held up the envelope between her index and middle finger. “It’s an invite to his restaurant opening,” she said. “It came earlier this week and I threw it away.”
Phoebe kept her eyes locked on her niece but said nothing.
“I’m happy for him. I am,” Monica stressed. “But I do not want to see him and the thing he chose over me. Ever. Am I wrong?”
Phoebe came over, gently took the envelope from her and set it on the center of the small modern-style desk next to a short stack of bills. “No, just undecided,” she said.
True.
“When is it?”
“Next week,” Monica said, digging her toes into the plush pile of the area rug. “Seems a little last-minute.”
“Maybe he was undecided, too,” Phoebe offered.
“Maybe,” she said, wrinkling her brow a bit as she moved back to the window and stepped inside a ray of sunlight, which felt good against her skin.
Almost as good as Gabe.
Was he with someone new? Or was the restaurant his one true love?
“Well, you have