This Man Is A Bastard…

Rain.

I have devoted every fiber of my essence to Colt Walden, poured every ounce of my heart into him since high school, when his easy grin first pulled me in during art class.

He was everything back then, the guy who made my world spin with a single look. College soon kept us tangled in late-night study sessions that turned into something more, and even after we graduated, the pattern stuck.

Three breakups already, each one ripping me apart. I convince myself I’m done being the fool, that I’m stronger now, but he always returned with those smooth words and touches that made me forget the pain.

“I should never have left. I don’t know what came over me,” he’d say with those pitiful eyes cast at me.

Yet, here I am, hoping again. I know I’m addicted to the chaos he brings.

Tonight is filled with buzzing tension. I don’t know what it is but it has been this way since Colt dropped that message two hours ago.

I stare at my phone once more, my thumb hovering over his words: ‘Meet me at La Belle Étoile. 8 PM. We need to talk.’

My heart races.

It’s the one. It must be. The restaurant I’ve dreamed of with crystal chandeliers and views of the city lights twinkling like stolen stars. He’s never taken me anywhere this lavish.

Maybe he’s finally ready to commit, to slide a ring across the table and erase the doubts.

God, I’ve waited for this.

We patched things up just six months ago after his last “exploration” phase, where he vanished for weeks, only to return with that sheepish grin and hands that knew exactly how to make me forget.

And, oh, how my body always bowed to his rhythmic strummings. There is no resisting charm with this man.

I shake off the nerves, glancing at the clock. 7:15. There is still plenty of time.

The red gown hangs in my closet like a secret weapon, silky fabric that clings to my hips and dips low at the neckline, a purchase from two months back when I hoped he’d surprise me.

Tonight, it feels fated. Like it’s been made right for this very moment as I slip it on. A quick swipe of crimson lipstick, heels that click with purpose, and I’m out the door, hailing a cab before I can overthink.

“Calm down, Rain,” I whisper to my reflection in the window as the city blurs by. He cheats, I forgive, we burn brighter. But this time a proposal? My stomach flips with hope.

The cab pulls up to La Belle Étoile. I pay quickly and step out. There he is, waiting by the entrance, Colt Walden, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit, dark hair tousled just so.

My stomach is doing that familiar little flip-flop it only does for him. I smooth down the front of my dress, take a deep breath and head toward him.

And just as quickly as the excitement flares, it dies. There is something about his body language…

His shoulders are rigid and his hands are deep in his pockets. It’s not the easy smile I’m used to, the one that makes me feel like I’m the only person in his world.

I shove the feeling aside. I’m just overthinking it today. Colt is fine. We’re fine. It’s probably just stress from work.

“Colt!” I say that with a shy wave.

Instead of an expression mirrored, he gives me a sharp nod and just…gestures. A flick of his hand toward the entrance and toward a table right by the window.

He doesn’t even move to hug and spin me around like he usually does. Should the alarm bells start ringing now?

As I walk into the romantically lit surrounding, I see what—scratch that—who he’s gesturing at. There’s a girl already sitting there.

She’s staring down at her hands, nestled in the very seat I assumed would be mine, in the booth I thought we’d be sharing.

My mind is scrambling for excuses because this has to be a mistake. Maybe he’s meeting a colleague first? Or maybe it’s a family thing and the text got crossed?

My insides knot with anxiety, jostling the meal I had before getting dressed. This isn’t even butterflies. This is terror.

Finally as I get to the table, I look at the woman. It’s a familiar face. Lila, his cousin.

Well, thank God.

“Hey, what…what are you doing here?” I try to sound casual but it falls flat. Even arranging my face into a non- confused smile fails woefully.

This date is supposed to be between me and Colt. Just us. So why is his cousin here? Is this a family dinner I wasn’t told about? Is she our chaperone?

Lila offers a tiny, weak, guilty-looking smile in return. She doesn’t meet my eyes. I sit down with stiff movements as silence permeates the air, thick and suffocating.

Colt worsens it all by sliding into the booth next to her, thereby placing himself across from me.

The first warning bell goes off in my head.

He looks from her to me. “Rain,” he begins and his voice is flat. All the warmth I love, all the laughter and heat…gone. “I asked you here because I need to tell you something.” He pauses. “We…need to.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to order a drink. He doesn’t even ask how my day was. Never says hello.

My sinking heart starts to hammer like a trapped bird against my ribs. God, no, it can’t be what I’m thinking.

“Lila and I…” he resumes, reaching over and taking her hand on top of the table.

My gaze falls on their joined hands.

“We’re getting married.”

For the first few seconds, I fail to comprehend what he just said. Then, I bark out an ugly laugh, my eyes jumping between both of them and their hands.

“Is this a prank? Colt, what are you talking about?”

No one answers.

“Where in the world are cousins allowed to get married? Is this some elaborate, sick joke? Except it’s not funny. Where is the camera? Call the crew and call it off.”

I’m waiting for them to burst out laughing and say, “Gotcha!” But they don’t. Colt just shakes his head.

It’s Lila who speaks with a voice so small I almost miss it. “We’re not cousins.”

I stare at her gobsmacked. “What?”

“We’re not cousins,” Cole repeats this time with a firm voice that feels like a gavel hitting finality. “My parents took her in when we were kids. We were just…raised together. We told everyone that to make it easier.” And he doesn’t sound guilty about it.

Just like that, my world tips over and the truth slams into me. I’m dizzy with sadness.

They’re still talking, saying something about “loving each other” and “it just happened,” something about “sorry.”

“The absolute, unbelievable, stomach-turning gall to bring me here and call this a date while you two sit down there and hold hands.” I snap at Colt first. Before turning to his accomplice.

“And Lila. The sweet cousin I spent weeks sketching designs for. All those afternoons I spent with you, drinking coffee and listening to you talk about your “new apartment, asking for my professional opinion. All that work I did for free with my best ideas just for you both to spring this up on me?”

I remember pouring hours into those floor plans thinking I was doing it for love. Thinking I was helping out my future family. Because I foolishly believed that one day soon, we would be in-laws.

My stupidity smacks me hard and almost sends me reeling over.

Exhaling deeply, I ask, “How long has this bullshit simmered under my nose?

His smile widens. “We clicked one day at an event. She’s different. Exciting. I think she’s the one for me.”

The one. After years of me being his everything? And now this “cousin” gets the ring I dreamed of?

“You bastard,” I whisper, standing abruptly, chair scraping. Heads turn, but I don’t care. “You bring me here, in this dress, to dump me for this fling?”

“It’s not a fling,” he protests, rising too. “Rain, sit.”

“No.” I grab my purse, storming toward the exit, heels echoing. He follows, catching my arm in the lobby.

“Wait. I still care. This could be good for us.”

I wrench free, facing him under the chandelier’s glow. “Good? You’ve cheated before, but this proposing to her already?” Tears fall now, hot and furious.

How did I ever get caught in his web?

He softens, stepping closer, that familiar pull. “

Don’t be like that.”

“Save it.” I hail a cab outside, sliding in before he can say more.

As the cab pulls away, I watch him in the rearview, standing there, looking lost. But I know him; he’ll call.

He might have broken my heart now for some girl who rode him in ways he would have died for, however, I pride myself in knowing him better.

Colt loves the taste of familiarity. He’d come back to me soon. Just as before, his adventures never lasts for long.

With that hope flickering within, I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes. Just as I begin to drift away, my phone screen lights up with a message from Emma and my heartache doubles.

How do I tell her I can’t hang out anymore because the proposal date turned out to be a breakup?

Emma: I can’t find you here. Where are you?

Me: I’m sorry, I can’t. Not feeling it tonight. Have fun without me.

Emma: uhh, why?

Me:Because Colt dumped me.

It takes a few seconds before her reply comes back in caps “DON’T TELL ME YOU WANNA GO HOME AND MOPE ABOUT THAT JERK?”

With a sigh, I turn off my phone, shifting my focus to the buildings as they breeze past. I’ll lick my wounds alone. One thing I know for sure: Colt Walden will ALWAYS come back to me.