I resisted the temptation to fall into Matt’s trap. I wouldn’t let him take my confidence. I couldn’t let him win. “As I said before, you shouldn’t have come. And no, I don’t need your help.” My voice was clear and steady.

“Well, I’ll be here when you change your mind.” He grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit at a table.

Did that actually work?

I thought on what he’d said for a second. When I changed my mind. Not if I changed my mind. He had no idea what I was up to, but he already assumed I’d fail. I wanted to walk over and bash my tray on his pompous head. Instead, I carefully placed a pastry on my plate. Then I thought about the calories and put it back.

What I wouldn’t give for the metabolism of a Were…

I found hard-boiled eggs, some sort of potato pancake, and half a grapefruit. Good enough. I searched for a place to sit. The only open spot was across from Matt.

Why is this my life?

I circled the buffet as I searched the room again. Please. Someone get up. Finally, a couple left their spots. It was right next to Matt’s table, but I didn’t care.

I pushed their dirty dishes aside and sat down with my back to him.

“You’re being a child.”

Ignoring him. That had been my plan last night. I’d faltered just now, but I wouldn’t keep doing it.

I carefully de-shelled my eggs. Cut them up. Put salt and pepper on them. All the while ignoring Matt. Only it wasn’t helping. He wasn’t stopping. He just got louder.

“This is stupid. You’re being ridiculous. Whatever Luciana did, I’m sure it’s gotten blown way out of proportion.”

I took a sip of my orange juice and he somehow took that as a signal to get up and sit across from me.

“You’re acting like a child.” His tone was loud and harsh as if I hadn’t heard him the first time.

It was really rich coming from him. He was the one throwing a temper tantrum.

“Your behavior today has been incredibly rude. And I’m your fiancé. I think that should afford me a measure of respect.”

A measure of respect?

A measure of respect?!

What about respect for me? He was older than me by ten years, but sometimes he acted so immature. So selfish.

The more I thought about him and how I’d been cornered into agreeing to our engagement, the sicker I got. I was just a kid at the time, but he—he was an adult. At least, he was supposed to be.

“Say something,” he shouted, and a piece of spittle hit my face.

Disgusting.

I picked up my napkin and wiped off my cheek. “You’re the one who’s yelling and causing a scene. When you calm down, maybe I’ll talk to you.” I was doing okay, but this whole situation was miserable. My hands shook with anger and frustration, but I was sticking to my plan. God had made me stubborn, if nothing else.