Not a Homewrecker

Chapter Two: Don't Share

It's the first week of March and the weather in LA is stifling. Most people think LA folks are weather confused by the way we dress, but really it's Mother Nature who's confused. The bitch can't decide whether we're in winter or summer.

I'm seated at a cute little Italian bistro on Ventura boulevard sipping on my lemonade waiting for Cheryl. It's been almost two weeks since my meeting with Brad, and I was finally able to schedule an in-person consultation with Cheryl. There is only so much we can discuss over the phone. I prefer a much more personal approach and like to meet my clients face to face. Before the Covid pandemic, it was much easier for clients to drop in and see me since Johnny and I had a small office space. We canceled our lease after the hit we took to our business during the lockdown and haven't gotten around to renting a new place.

As I scan the small restaurant, I spot a beautiful, long-legged, blonde woman approaching me. I stand up and welcome her.

"Hello, I'm Olivia. You must be Cheryl."

She smiles at me and shakes my hand. "Olivia, it's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

We take our seats and peruse our menus having small talk as we decide what to order. We place our order with a charming and eccentric waiter. As we wait for our meals to arrive, Cheryl starts to talk about the ranch and Brad.

"He's been so helpful with this whole thing," she gushes. "And he hasn't stopped singing your praises."

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, taken aback .

"Oh yes, he's quite smitten with you," she adds. "I've never seen him like this."

For the love of all that is holy. Adonis is smitten with me. Me! This has to be a dream. I have to be dreaming. I covertly pinch myself on my hand. Ouch! Nope, looks like I'm wide awake.

Cheryl smiles at me and reaches for her phone.

"Look, I'm going to text you his phone number. It's up to you if you decide to use it, but you should know you'd make him a very happy man if you do reach out.

"I don't think I'm very comfortable with having his phone number without his permission," I admit.

"Oh no, don't worry about it," she reassures me. "He's been beating himself up for not giving it to you during your meeting. He asked me for my advice on how to approach you." She laughs and shakes her head. "I'm telling you he's smitten."

"Okay," I agree. "Now let's talk some wedding details.

The subject change is practically mandatory at this point. I don't need Cheryl to witness my mental breakdown. She begins describing her dream wedding and I grab my notebook to take notes. The rest of our lunch date is spent discussing all things wedding.

****

I'm pacing my living room staring at my phone as Johnny sits on my sectional eating left-overs from a cake testing he had with a client earlier in the day.

"Will you stop the back and forth?" he demands. "You're making me dizzy and I don't want to up-chuck all this delicious cake."

"Ugh, fine," I grunt. I walk over and sit down next to him reaching for his plate to have a piece of cake.

He pulls it away wagging his finger in my face. "Don't you dare, Olivia. I don't share."

"Oh you suck," I mumble. "I'm nervous and need some cake."

"No, what you need is some patience. You texted him two minutes ago. Give the man a break."

After hours of contemplating whether or not to text Brad, Johnny finally convinced me to put myself out there. After all, 'life is too short' he warned. So, I succumbed and texted Brad saying: