Cherry
As Fern and I stepped onto the sidewalk, I felt as if I had conjured Carl from my thoughts, spying him at the table in the window of the very restaurant we were going to. But… a dark-haired woman leaned over the small, circular table between them planting a kiss on his lips.
I grabbed Fern’s hand, marching her off in the other direction. Getting out my phone, I called Carl. I didn’t expect him to pick up, but he did.
“Hey Hun, is everything all right?”
I almost choked but mastered myself. “Sure, I just wanted to hear your voice. How are you doing?”
“Good, thanks. Just working. No rest for the wicked, right?”
Sickness roiled through me. Wicked indeed. Fury and hurt twisted through me, but once again, I managed to contain it and said, “I’ll leave you to it, and see you soon, night.”
“Night, Hun,” he said, hanging up.
I dialed Lara next and managed to placate Fern with the change of plan, and I pretended to her that I’d just remembered a client’s dress that was being picked up from the store late. Fern prattled on about AJ West for a while, her favorite star that I designed for, while we wandered the square, waiting for Lara to show up.
I’d used the same excuse with Lara as I had on Fern, and our nanny offered to stay the night. I gladly took Lara up on her offer and watched her head off with Fern in a cab. Then, vibrating with anger, I strode right back to the restaurant and right to Carl's table.
His charming smile slipped from his face as he looked up. Snatching the glass of red wine in front of him, I threw it in his face. “You lying snake!” I exclaimed. “It’s over. Don’t you ever come near me again.”
Marching out of the restaurant and into the night, I felt a sense of justice at having given the wicked philanderer his just deserts. But as I climbed into a cab and headed home, hollowness swept through me. I kept tasting bile in my throat as I thought of how close I’d almost come to moving forward with that good-for-nothing jerk.
When I got out of the taxi at home, I knew I should go upstairs and pretend that the “work” crisis had been averted. But it felt like too much effort. They were probably waiting for the pizza order I’d told them to get. I couldn’t stand the idea of trying to pretend that everything was okay when it felt as if my world was falling down. So, I lingered on the steps of my building, unsure about what to do or where to go.
“You know, it’s still quite cold at night in Berlin, even in summer.” Dylan’s voice sounded from behind me.
My lips twitched despite everything that had happened tonight. “So after only a week here, you’re an expert on Berlin’s climate?”
“What can I say? It’s been a very long week,” he answered.
I didn’t know if it was the number of shocks lately or if it was Dylan’s gentle, joking tone, but I wrapped my arms around myself and burst into tears.
In a moment, Dylan’s arms were wrapped around me. He held me until I stopped crying.
As I took a step back from him, my gaze crept up to my window. “Dylan, I can’t let Fern see me like this.”
“I saw Fern and your nanny get back,” Dylan said. “She’ll be fine with Lara for a while, right?”
I nodded, comforted by Dylan’s strong soothing voice and already missing the weight of his arms around me.
“That’s settled then, you’re coming to my house.”
And with that, I didn’t resist as he hugged me to his side, pulling me across the street.
The last time I was in Dylan’s living room, I had been too angry to notice its tasteful, understated décor. Sitting on the stylish L-shaped sofa, I took in the color scheme.
“The blue and orange palette you’ve chosen really works, by the way.” I couldn’t help observing as I took in the aesthetic in the soft glow of the lamps Dylan switched on.
His lips twitched. “Ever the artist,” he said fondly. “But I’m afraid I can’t take credit for this. Bert got an interior decorator in to do everything.”
I nodded and, despite my melancholy mood from my shock at Carl’s betrayal, realized that I wasn’t angry at the thought of my old friend. For the last week, I’d refused to answer his sorry texts over the fact that he’d told Dylan about Fern. I thought I’d text him tomorrow and say all was forgotten and forgiven. Life was too short to hold a grudge against my oldest friend. After all, good people were in short supply these days. The memory of glimpsing Carl through the restaurant’s window, kissing that woman, sent disgust through me.
Dylan asked, “If you want to talk about anything, Cherry, I’m here for you.” His dark eyes wound over my face with concern, and I felt touched by his earnestness. “Can I get you a drink, tea, coffee, or something stronger?”
My lips twitched at the thought of how many coffees and other things he’d brought to my door over the week. But the sincere worry stamped across his face about my well-being had me answering equally truthfully. “I could really do with a glass of wine, please.”
“Coming right up.” Easing himself out of the low sofa, he went to the kitchen.
As I heard the opening of cupboard doors and the clink of glasses, I took off my heels. I wore a mint green midi dress, so it was long enough that I was able to curl myself up on the sofa without showing too much leg. I leaned back into the comfy gray couch, closing my eyes and letting myself relax.
“Red or white?” Dylan asked, returning with a tray and two bottles, and a pair of glasses.
“White, please.”