to either excuse myself from the table or explain my reason for being here. I’m not doing either of those things unless Adrienne asks me to. So I stretch my legs out, prop my good shoulder against the wall, and settle in.
I ain’t going no damn where.
Ten
JETT
“Excuse me, whoever you are, but I need a moment alone with my fiancée,” little man says, in a haughty type voice, as if I’m a stack of dirty dishes he needs removed from the table.
“I’m not your fiancée anymore,” she tells him plainly.
Good, she sounds strong.
She’s got this.
“I’m not trying to have a full-blown conversation in the back of a bar about this. I just need us to talk privately for a second. Let’s go home.”
I seriously don’t like this guy. Anyone with a pair of eyeballs can see that these two would never make it. They don’t fit. He’s definitely got one of those Napoleon complexes and seems like the type who’s insecure about her success. She’s a damn doctor, for God’s sake, and she still looks fresh out of high school. That he actually thinks the two of them still have a “home” after the shit he pulled tonight is laughable.
“You can’t be serious?” She responds.
Exactly.
“Can you give me five minutes outside then?” he pleads.
Say no.
“No, Troy, I cannot give you five minutes or five more seconds because for one thing we’re over, and two I’m clearly having a drink with someone and you’re interrupting.”
Good girl.
I take great pleasure in sipping on my second beer as I wait to hear how Troy is going to respond after hearing that. I mean, I’ve done some questionable stuff to women too, but banging some chick in your fiancée’s bed is just fucking wrong. You don’t shit where you eat. I think most of us learn that lesson early. This idiot must be a late bloomer.
“Honey–”
“Stop calling me that.”
Yeah, that’s a totally lame nickname.
“Fine, if this is where you want to hash it out and who you want to hash it out in front of, then that’s what we’ll do.”
That was another passive aggressive request for me to leave, but I ain’t biting. A real man would have kicked my ass by now. He doesn’t deserve her.
“I don’t want to hash anything out,” she reiterates, but he ignores her like the prick he is and keeps talking.
“Adrienne, first off, all I can say is that I’m truly sorry about everything that happened today.”
“Everything that happened?”
She stands up from the table and rests her hand on one of her very ample hips. Damn those hips. I bet he had zero clue how to grab a hold of and rock those hips at just the right angle. My dick is getting all worked up just thinking about it.
“You act like it was something that happened by some outside force or an act of God,” she continues. “As if you didn’t cause what happened today. So you’re truly sorry for bringing a slut into my home and sleeping with her in my bed? That’s what you’re truly sorry for?”
He doesn’t respond right away, but looks over at me for a moment. I can tell that he’s uncomfortable and probably humiliated that me and half the bar are now privy to just how badly he fucked up, but that’s his fault. If he didn’t want to marry her, then why did he propose? If he didn’t want to break up with her, then why cheat on her in her own damn house? I’m no shrink, but even I can tell that’s some passive-aggressive shit.
It’s the stupidest thing to me why so many dudes end up in this sort of position. Stop making commitments when you don’t want one. Just be upfront and honest and you can get laid all day every day without the hassle. Shit, I do it all the time. It’s so much easier to just be honest. Women love it.
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, so am I. I’m sorry I wasted two years of my life with you. I’m sorry I trusted you. I’m sorry I ever met you.”
“But we’re going to get married, honey. You are my soul mate. Let’s figure out a way to work through this. I don’t want us to throw everything away over one misstep.”
Ok, he’s groveling, but he’s going to have to do a lot better than this. I give this performance a C minus. He needs to put all the blame on himself and stop with all of this