Part of me felt nervous.
Another part felt wonderfully defiant.
Dave had wanted an open relationship.
Tonight, he was going to discover what that actually meant.
Shawn arrived exactly on time.
He looked even better than I remembered.
He had an effortless confidence that made conversation easy, and before long, we were sitting across from each other over dinner and wine.
“So, how did you get into marketing?” Shawn asked.
I laughed and told him about the beginning of my career—the embarrassing mistakes, the long hours, and the small victories that eventually became bigger ones.
Shawn listened.
Actually listened.
His attention stayed on me instead of drifting toward his phone or the television.
For the first time in a long while, I felt seen.
We had just finished dessert when the front door suddenly slammed open.
Dave’s voice filled the house.
“Another date with a cat lady. She showed me pictures of her twenty-five cats, Felicity! Twenty-five!”
He stormed into the living room.
Then froze.
Shawn and I were sitting together, laughing.
Dave stared at us.
“Uh, hey. Am I interrupting something?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Actually, yes. Didn’t you get my text?”
He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket.
I watched him read my message.
His face turned bright red.
“So,” I continued calmly, “could you maybe give us a few more hours? Shawn and I were just getting to the good part.”
Dave’s jaw dropped.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
I crossed my arms.
“Remember, you wanted this.”
His expression cycled through disbelief, jealousy, anger, and finally something close to panic.
“Fine. But we need to talk. Now.”
I sighed and turned toward Shawn.
“I’m sorry about this. Rain check?”
Shawn smiled, clearly amused by the entire situation.
“Of course. Another time.”
He kissed me lightly on the cheek before leaving.
The moment the door closed behind him, Dave turned toward me.
“What the heck, Felicity? Where did you find that guy? A modeling agency?”
“He’s a colleague, actually.”
I met his gaze.
“You started this, Dave. Now you have to deal with it.”
He dragged a hand through his hair.
For once, he didn’t look smug or confident.
He looked scared.
“Look, I messed up. I thought it would be easy, but it’s not. And seeing you with someone else…it’s killing me.”
Some of my anger softened, but not enough to let him escape the point.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t have feelings too? That your suggestion wouldn’t hurt me?”
His shoulders dropped.
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