Broken Reflection (eBook)

Chapter 3

Claire

Tucked away in one of the quaintest, narrowest old streets in the heart of the city, Frank and his wife Emma had acquired Nora’s Restaurant a few years back. They’d put their personal touches all around it, making it feel like home. The walls were adorned with marble tiles that glistened when the sun shone through its expansive tall windows, filling the room with natural light.

The tables were small but intimate, perfect for couples or for an evening out alone to enjoy some peace and quiet while savoring delicious food.

In one corner of the place sat a grand piano bar where patrons could choose from a selection of wines or cocktails as they listened to live music playing softly in the background.

Emma made sure their guests felt at home by ensuring every detail was taken care of, from freshly baked bread on each table to cushioned chairs providing comfort throughout the dinner service. Even though Frank ran most operations, it was Emma who managed all their front-of-house duties such as greeting customers on their arrival, taking orders, delivering meals, and having conversations with them about life over coffee or dessert. Emma was the face of Nora’s.

It was clear that Frank’s wife knew how important this place was to him, so she did her best, making sure everyone who stepped inside left feeling satisfied both emotionally and culinarily. They should go away knowing their experience had been just as they had envisioned, or better.

A sweet-looking hostess came to show us to our table for two.

A thought traversed my mind: I hope we aren’t seated near the piano. Last thing I want is an audience when I’m asking Stephen about ‘that woman’.

We sat in a small booth far from everyone else.

Stephen, it turned out, was anxious; it was evident in the way he gulped down the water as soon as it was brought to him. Should I have been expecting him to break the news to me tonight and tell me he had fallen in love with someone else? I hoped not; it would rob me of all my control.

A young woman in all black—pants, shirt, and hair—came to take our drink orders.

“Oh, I usually drink gin and tonic,” I bit back as if displeased with her for some reason. “But anything, anything will do!” I wasn’t annoyed. It was just that everything set me on edge.

She made a note of Stephen’s order and ran off as if she dared never reappear.

Once she was out of sight, I gathered the courage to ask.

“Stephen, I don’t know how to say this, but I saw you today in downtown, having lunch with a woman. You two seemed a bit friendly. Is she a new employee or something?”

I stared at him, assessing his eyes to see if they were shifty, looking at his lips to see if they pursed inadvertently. His chestnut eyes already moved too rapidly from side to side. He seemed to want to avert his gaze, but I moved my chair a little, back in the frame.

How awkward for him! And how doubly awkward for me, but did he even consider that?

I didn’t want to give him time to think of any excuses or come up with a story.

“Oh, you mean Janice? Yes, honey, I was in downtown, but it isn’t what you think, I swear.”

He reached forward, offering to take my hand. “I love you and would never do anything to hurt you or us. You know that don’t you? To be honest, I’m surprised you even ask.”

Oh, so now, he was doing the man thing of putting it all back onto me. Yes, it was all my doing. I was the suspicious wife, always giving my husband a hard time for no reason at all.

Well, we’d see about that. I wasn’t just going to back down and forget it. And equally, nor would there be tears and tantrums. But he hadn’t convinced me, and Stephen could tell.

He was a very good-looking man.

Any woman would fall over herself to get his attention. His sultry blond hair was cut neatly, and his aquiline nose complemented prominent cheekbones. You could say he was handsome in an understated way, his basalt jaw and spartan shoulders speaking of strength. He possessed a latent, leonine power and always walked with purpose and authority.

“Okay Claire, I can see you’re not going to let this go. But I want you to know I hate doing this here. I wanted to really wait until next month, but I can’t let you doubt me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ll be back shortly; I just need to get something from the car.”

He got up and walked out to his car and within a few minutes, was back, holding a small square red velvet case. He sat back at the table.

“Claire, honey. Look, I understand your concern, but I’d asked her to drop this off today as I was meeting a client in the area, just around the corner, but I wanted to avoid being seen at the shop. I wanted to wait to give it to you for your birthday next month before your charity event.”

What have I done? I felt awful doubting my husband, but I had to know as so many marriages ended in divorce because of philandering spouses. And if the wife never even asked the man about it, that just showed she really didn’t care either way so no wonder he strayed.

“Stephen, you are too good to me,” I said in a mortified whisper, opening the case, and inside were those emerald earrings I’d been eyeing for some time. Was this pair of earrings what he’d spent four thousand dollars on? Surely not! I’d never asked the price; the tag simply said, POA.

‘Price on asking,’ that meant. I swallowed hard, guilt biting at me. They’d cost way too much. In fact, I had thought they were peridot at first. Silver and peridot.

Otherwise, knowing my husband’s past predilection for buying me the things he knew I loved, I’d never have said a thing. Certainly, I didn’t consider myself the kind of woman to drop hints about earrings in platinum and emerald with a price tag of four thousand dollars!

The day I’d first seen them, Stephen had said they were a bit glitzy, not my style.

Little did I know he was holding them back for my birthday.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

“Claire, I love you, I love us, and nothing’s more important to me than your happiness,” Stephen said, leaning across the table to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead.

His actions had just shown that he couldn’t have me being suspicious. Either it was because he loved me so much that he didn’t want me feeling scared or hurt—or it was because the charity ball was coming around the corner and he just couldn’t risk it all. I believed it was the former.

At least, I hoped so—really, really hoped so.

He would do anything to make me content in our marriage, and deep inside, I didn’t even need a pair of earrings or some gift or other to prove it to me. Inside, I knew it already.

It had just been a little while since I’d admitted it to myself, maybe because of my own doubts in our relationship. But yes, he loved me, and that was that. Sure, we’d been going through a bit of a rocky patch lately, but which couple didn’t? Just because we’d passed that stage where we couldn’t keep our hands off one another, it didn’t mean I had to imagine my husband would dash out and have an affair. It had been such a stupid thought.

Utterly silly and ridiculous. I hated myself for it now. How could I get so petty?

And I thank my lucky stars he didn’t just lose it with me, I thought. I know I’d have done that if he came accusing me of having lunch or dinner with some other guy.

And now I felt even worse; what about all the overt flirting I’d done with Ajay, at his café?

So, I decided I believed Stephen now, and he would have seen it in my smile.

He said that my eyes were intense and intoxicating, ‘speaking to the soul of nature, like a fresh meadow’. I swore that man could have made a fortune as a poet! But he always had said my eyes were what captivated him at first, and I had no doubt in this moment that they had to be that same brightness, that intoxicating hue they’d shown when he’d fallen in love with me. He said I only had the brightest, sparkling eyes whenever I was deeply happy.

And they were sparkling for him now.

Periodically, my hands went back to my earrings, ensuring they were still on.

And they were.

He loves me so much, I thought, my eyes welling up.

Then I turned my head away, not willing to let him see me so moved. It had been a little while since we’d been so vulnerable and open with one another, and I was admittedly still struggling with it, struggling to let him in and see all of me. But he reached out his hand, anyway, laying it on mine and then curling his fingers around my own.

I swallowed hard, trying not to be overcome with emotions at the table.

“Shall we order our meal, love? Do you know what you want?” he asked as if to excuse me. With that simple and painless question, he freed me from my moment of embarrassment.

“Why don’t we split something if you’re okay with it?” I suggested, gently slipping my other hand on his in a small, returned gesture of affection. “It would be romantic,...