Chapter 2
My brother Jake stood in the doorway.
His face was thunder.
He was holding the small velvet box he’d brought—our mom’s anniversary gift for me, the one he’d been supposed to surprise me with after dinner.
He took one look at my red, swollen cheek.
One look at the woman standing over me, her hand still raised a little like she was ready to hit me again.
One look at my husband, still sitting in my booth, still sipping his wine like nothing was wrong.
And he moved.
I grabbed his arm before he could take two steps.
“Jake, don’t.”
My voice was steady now.
No crack.
No shake.
He looked down at me, his chest heaving.
“Lila, he let her hit you.
That son of a bitch just sat there and let her—”
“I know.”
I squeezed his arm.
“I know.
But not like this.
Not here.
I’m not giving them the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.”
I turned to Marco, my general manager, who’d been hovering by the kitchen door, white as a sheet.
“Marco.”
He jumped a little, then straightened.
“Comp every table in the house.
On me.
Tell everyone their meals are free tonight, and their next one too, for having to witness this garbage.”
He nodded fast.
“Got it, Lila.”
“Then get these two out of my restaurant.”
I pointed straight at my husband and the mistress.
“Escort them to the door.
And if either of them ever sets foot on this property again, call the police immediately.
Trespassing.”
The mistress laughed.
High, sharp, fake.
“Your restaurant?
Honey, this is his restaurant.
He told me he owns the whole building.
You’re just the sad little wife who plays waitress for fun.”
She turned to my husband, simpering.
“Tell her, baby.
Tell her who’s really in charge here.”
My husband finally stood up.
He had the nerve to look annoyed.
“Lila, this is ridiculous.
You’re making a fool of yourself.
Can we just talk about this at home?”
“Home?”
I let out a short, bitter laugh.
“You don’t get to call that home anymore.
And for the record?”
I nodded at Marco, who stepped forward, flanked by two of our line cooks, both big, both quiet, both furious.
“I own this building.
I own every booth, every pan, every bottle of wine in that cellar.
You haven’t put a cent into this place in two years.
The only thing you’ve ever contributed is lies and late nights ‘working late’ that you spent with her.”
The mistress’s smirk dropped.
She looked at my husband, eyes wide.
“Is that true?
You said you were the owner—”
“Shut up, Karen,” he snapped.
I almost smiled.
Of course her name was Karen.
Marco and the cooks stepped closer.
“Sir.
Ma’am.
You need to leave.
Now.”
My husband’s face went red.
“You can’t throw me out!
I’m her husband—”
“Not for much longer,” I said.
The words tasted like freedom.
“Now get out of my restaurant.
And don’t ever speak to me again unless my lawyer is in the room.”
They left.
Karen stumbled a little in her heels, screaming over her shoulder that I’d regret this, that I’d end up alone and broke.
My husband didn’t look back.
He just walked out, head down, like the coward he was.
The second the door clicked shut behind them, the whole room erupted.
Regulars cheering.
Waiters clapping.
Jake pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
“I’m so sorry, Lils.
I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
I buried my face in his shoulder.
The cold hard thing in my chest cracked a little.
For the first time all night, I let myself cry.
Not for him.
Never for him.
For the five years I’d wasted.
For the girl who’d walked in that door an hour earlier, stupid and hopeful, thinking she still had a marriage.
When I pulled back, Marco was holding a bag of frozen peas for my cheek.
The whole staff was gathered around, quiet, worried.
“Lila,” one of the waitresses said, soft.
“We’re with you.
Whatever you need.”
I looked at all of them.
At the regulars still sitting at their tables, raising their glasses to me.
At my brother, still holding me like he’d never let go.
I pressed the frozen peas to my stinging cheek.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel small.
I felt angry.
May you like
I felt strong.
And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was going to make them pay for every second of hurt they’d caused me.
