But he stood in the doorway, brow knotted, and cut me off irritably, “I’m on my way to meet a client. Stop acting paranoid. Security is something you should give to yourself.”
Once, after meeting a female client, he came back with a long hair on his shirt and the scent of perfume all over him. I teased him if another woman threw herself at him. He embraced me and said, with that indulgent smile, that with me, his favorite person, he had no reason to look at anyone else. Back then, I believed everything he said.
Shortly, he left tidy and primped, even spritzing on cologne like a peacock preparing to court a mate.
After he walked out, I bought a ticket to the piano competition and ordered a bouquet. I wanted to catch him in the act and hear how he’d explain it.
When I snuck into the backstage area, I found them together. Ethan had a water in hand, and they were enjoyingly sharing it like lovers.
“Ethan, I’m so nervous. If I don’t win first place, it’ll be so embarrassing,” Dulce fretted.
“Losing isn’t embarrassing. You don’t know what real shame is,” he shot back.
The words cut me like a blade.
As expected, she mentioned me.