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Thirteen

As usual, everything is done on her terms. She picked the day (Sunday) and time (lunch,) even chose the restaurant, and even though Richard was a full ten minutes late, she is fifteen minutes late now, and counting. Typical Tricia.

Richard sits at a table for two right in the middle of the dining area—the better to avoid a messy confrontation or scene, just in case. It's for her own protection as well as his—he isn't a hundred percent sure he won't lose his temper if she pushes him far enough. He briefly scans the menu, indifferently pondering what "French-Filipino fusion" cuisine entails, then shifts his gaze to the entrance door, watching for his ex. A slightly chunky woman dressed in black comes in, and for a minute, he spitefully wonders what the odds are that she's gained 50lbs and lost all her hair since he saw her last.

No such luck. A moment later, she enters, looking every bit as alluring as she ever did, and he notices several male heads turn to subtly watch her as she glides past their tables. Her hair is longer now, and she is wearing a blue and green sleeveless blouse—a rare departure from her signature black—but apart from that, she hasn't changed one bit.

"Hello, Chard," she greets him softly, putting out a hand to stop him from getting her seat (he can't help it, he's nothing if not a gentleman.) If they didn't have such a bitter history, the nervous little smile she gave him might have passed off as utterly charming, however...

"Umorder ka na ba?" She continues, flipping her menu open. "I'm starved, didn't have breakfast. I hear the salade niçoise here is amazing..."

He lets her chatter idly on and remains silent as she rattles off her order to the waitress, only ordering an Americano for himself. Tricia raises her eyebrow at him, concerned.

"Aren't you hungry, Chard? You should try their baked salmon, diba favorite mo yun?"

"Just the coffee, please," he repeats firmly to the waitress. As soon as the latter is out of earshot, he turns his attention back to Tricia and asks her seriously, "What are we doing here, Tricia? What do you want?"

She sighs. "Just like that, Chard? Right down to business? Won't you tell me first how you are, what you've been up to? I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm fine. I've been great. There, all caught up. Now, what's up?"

"Okay, fine." She shakes her head sadly and sighs resignedly. "I'm in town kasi may mga inaasikaso akong personal matters...one of them includes selling our—my old condo. May buyer na ko, the deal is pretty much in place, it's just a matter of turning over the paperwork."

"Okay, so anong kinalaman ko dun? No offense, but...I mean, I don't really care what you do with your old place."

"Well," Tricia says apprehensively, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I wanted—I just wanted—to offer you part of the proceeds from the sale, to—alam mo yun—to make up for—alam mo na."

A beat—then a sudden hot surge of anger rushes through Richard's veins and he instinctively grips the edges of the table tightly with both hands to keep himself from flipping it over right there in the middle of the restaurant.

How. Dare. She? The nerve of this woman, flouncing back into town, demanding an audience with him, only to rub salt on the wounds she herself had inflicted in the first place. A man of lesser breeding would've cussed her into the next life, but Richard's mother had raised him better than that. He grits his teeth and struggles to compose himself before speaking.

"You are really something else," he finally says, his voice clipped and coming out a low hiss. "After everything you put me through, you think you can just throw money at me and that will somehow make it all okay? Na parang magic lang? Damn. Iba ka, Patricia. Nakakainsulto ka."