He was late. As usual.
"Can I get you anything?" The waiter was cute. I looked up at him with a smile, bathing in his looks. He was Italian, tanned and drop dead gorgeous. Shame about the ring on his finger. I dropped the smile and ordered a coffee, returning my gaze to the door.
"Sorry I'm late. Traffic." Bailey apologised as he dashed across the floor of the café, sitting opposite me with a cute smile. I blamed that smile. I could still smell the smoke on him so I subtly moved my chair backwards.
"You're always late, Bailey. I'm used to it now." I think I sounded annoyed, which was fair enough because I was slightly - but not at Bai. It was that waiter. Bloody marriage.
"What was it you wanted Cait?" He was waving to a waiter as he did, looking like he owned the place. He ordered and cast his gaze over the other occupants. I sat there, waiting for him to look at me again.
"Found yourself someone else yet? Or are you still looking? Want another few minutes?" That time I definitely sounded annoyed.
"Yep. She's at my place." He said without a care in the world. "Have you?"
He didn't get it, did he? Here I was, stuck in a rut because of him and he was having a casual conversation about my love life. My non-existent love life.
"No. Obviously." Then I watched the penny drop as his face fell when he realised how stupid he had been.
"How is she?" He asked. I could see the care coming back to his face - I hadn't seen that in a long time.
"She's fine. No thanks to you." I resented Bai for what he had done to me; he had ruined my life. The worst thing was that part of me still thought he cared about me, he still loved me. That was just stupid though. He had his bimbo back at his place - that's probably about as much love as he can take.
"Do you want money?" He looked serious and it scared me slightly. When I had told him the first time, he hadn't looked serious or happy or sad - in fact he hadn't shown any emotion - he had just ran.
"Yes. But it isn't just that." I knew that I could get a cheque out of him, even before we had started talking so when he pulled his chequebook out, I smiled to myself. "As much as you can spare."
He wrote down a rather large number that made me feel better all over - so money can't make you happy but it will make you feel less stressed.
"So what else do you want?" He asked and I relished hearing the reluctance and frustration in his voice.
"It isn't something that I want."
And with that, I held back a little chuckle as I saw the happiness drain from his face.
"Your daughter wants to spend some time with you."