Page 47 of My Heart's Doctor

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” I said, in response to his dismissive gesture.

He sat down beside me and continued looking at me seriously.

“Setting aside your way of addressing me, because I think we’ve moved beyond the need for formal treatment, I’ll focus onwhat really interests me: why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, in that direct and authoritative way he always used to intimidate, but which didn’t work with me, or at least not at that moment because I was angry.

“I haven’t been able to.”

“You haven’t been able to,” he repeated, “but I see you do have time to go out with other people.”

“And so do you,” I stated, though I regretted it as soon as I said it because it revealed my displeasure.

At that moment Sylvia arrived and stood looking at us, not knowing what to do or say. Cavaller looked at her as if my friend were interrupting an important meeting.

“Good thing you’re back, Sylvia, because I was just about to go look for you.”

“I can come back later,” she said, uncertainly.

“No, not at all. Mr. Cavaller was just leaving,” I said, without even introducing them and knowing I was being rude, but I didn’t care because I was upset.

Cavaller stood up and looked at me with a furrowed brow and that typical haughty look he gave me whenever something wasn’t to his liking.

“Good night,” he said, looking only at Sylvia, and left.

As soon as he turned, I exhaled the air I had been holding and deflated. Sylvia sat down in the place he had been occupying seconds before and looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

“He came to ask me why I hadn’t called him.”

“But that man was with another woman,” she said, putting into words what I myself was thinking.

“Exactly, that’s precisely why I wasn’t very nice to him. What right does he have to demand that from me when he’s at the same place we are and with someone else? I don’t know how he has the nerve, he’s such an imbecile,” I said, because I was tired of his attitude, or rather I was so jealous that I couldn’t contain my bad mood.

“I agree with you on that.”

Orson arrived with the drinks and must have noticed the tense atmosphere because he looked at us seriously.

“Who died?” he joked.

“Orson!” I exclaimed.

“What? Your faces look like you’re at a funeral.”

“Devon’s friend was here, the one we saw at the restaurant,” Sylvia informed him.

“He had the nerve to come here? Did he come with the woman he was having dinner with?”

“No, he came alone, but I imagine his companion must be waiting for him. The shameless man wanted to know why I hadn’t called him. Can you believe it?”

“And why are you so upset?” Orson asked.

“What do you think? I’m outraged!”

Orson and Sylvia looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to tell you something, but don’t get upset,” said Sylvia, warning me that what she was about to say wouldn’t please me. “I think you have feelings for this man because I haven’t seen you this upset in a long time and...”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” I interrupted.

“I didn’t finish saying what I want you to hear,” she said, and added, “up close he’s even more imposing, I can understand why you’re dazzled because the man exudes sensuality from every pore, but I get the feeling there’s something more between youtwo. He was also looking at you in a strange way, he seemed mesmerized and... possessive. I don’t think even that stupid ex of yours ever looked at you like that.”