…single. That’s his wife and his in-laws. He told them you’re a corporate sponsor paying for their anniversary dinner. Run.”
My stomach plummeted to my shoes. I read the scribbled words again, my pulse pounding in my ears. I slowly looked up from the little black booklet and across the table at Derek. He was casually swirling a $40 glass of scotch, looking entirely too comfortable.
Next to him sat the blonde woman he had introduced just two hours ago as his “older sister,” Brenda. Suddenly, the way they sat so close together, the familiar way she had ordered his steak for him, and the diamond ring glittering on her left hand all made horrifying sense.
“Come on, Claire,” Derek urged, nudging the leather checkbook closer to my plate with a patronizing smirk. “You just got that big bonus at work. Treat us. It’s the least you could do after crashing our family get-together.”
Crashing? He had literally begged me to come to this “simple, intimate dinner” to finally meet the people closest to him.
I looked back up at the waiter, a young guy who was now nervously wiping down an empty table nearby. He met my eyes and gave me a subtle, urgent nod toward the front door.
The shock instantly evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp fury. I took a deep breath and forced the sweetest, most innocent smile I could muster.
“You know what, Derek? You’re absolutely right,” I said, my voice dripping with honey.
I picked up the leather folder and opened my purse, pretending to reach for my wallet. Instead, I pulled out a pen, wrote a quick message on the back of the waiter’s note, and slipped it directly on top of the $800 itemized receipt.
“Excuse me, I just need to use the ladies’ room before I settle up,” I announced, standing up and sliding my chair in. I looked directly at the blonde woman. “Brenda, what a gorgeous diamond. Happy anniversary.”
Brenda’s smug expression froze. The color completely drained from Derek’s face.
“What… what did you just say?” he choked out, his eyes darting frantically between me and his wife.
“I said, enjoy the feast, Mrs. Derek,” I smiled, tossing my purse over my shoulder. “And thanks for the heads-up about my ‘corporate sponsorship’ for this meal. Unfortunately, I’m officially withdrawing my funding.”
I turned on my heel and strutted out the front doors of the restaurant. Before I even reached the valet stand, I could hear the muffled sounds of shouting erupting from their table inside. My phone started buzzing violently in my hand with Derek’s name. I hit ‘Decline’, blocked the number, and drove into the night with an $800 smile on my face.
