So, I was okay with paying half; what I didn’t realize when I proposed this was that I’d be covering seventy-five percent of it. Desperate to move on with my life, I acquiesced to it and we agreed he’d pay for our meals. I offered to pay for the excursion, understanding they can be a bit pricey and the madcap in me would be more inclined to incur the cost.
“I’m not ready to go back to the room.” I look over at Bernard and smile coyly. He doesn’t like to have plans changed without notice so, I’m attempting to butter him up. We approach a beach bar. “Let’s cop a stool here for a drink.”
Bernard’s eyes peel from his phone and over to the bar before rolling. “Zoey, you know I don’t drink.”
“I know,” I sing as I pull him over to an empty table. “You can have a virgin.”
“But you’ll have alcohol and that stuff is more expensive.”
I roll my eyes, but keep my smile intact. “C’mon, B.”
The waitress comes over and takes our order. Bernard gets a virgin pi?a colada and I order a lemon drop martini. When I go to search for my money, I realize I didn’t put any in my wrist wallet. Geez!
“Bernard, I didn’t bring my cash.”
“Use your card.” He shrugs, still engaged with his phone.
“I can’t. It’s a cash only bar. See the sign.”
That got his attention. His head pops up and eyes glare.
“How much?” he huffs angrily.
“Twenty-two dollars, sir,” the waitress timidly answers, clearly just as taken aback by his tone as I am.
Bernard whips out his Gucci wallet and yanks out a twenty dollar bill and a five. “Please bring my change back.”
The waitress scurries off.
“Bernard, don’t be rude,” I chide lowly.
“I’m not being rude. This was not in the budget. I don’t even drink.”
My brows furrow and I feel my temper rising.
“You do know we’re on vacation, don’t you. You didn’t plan to come out here just to lay up in the room, on your phone for four days, posting about the recent Hermes belt you just bought, did you?”
That was a jibe—cold, but I can’t help myself. I need this retreat. Business is demanding and my life just got turned upside down last month when I learned my son was no mere accident at all. I need a reprieve. There’s no way I’m going to excuse his behavior and further my blues. For crying out loud, there hasn’t even been any romance on this trip. We aren’t even sharing a bed. Bernard has been insistent on waiting until we’re married to try sex again. I’ve respected his decision, considering when we attempted it there was no wow fa— No! I won’t continue with that thought. I’m looking forward to sex with Bernard. Good sex. Extraordinary sex. I have to claim it.
“Look, Zoey, I understand you’re used to a certain lifestyle, but I ain’t ya baby daddy. I don’t have money like that yet. I don’t drink.” You don’t ‘wow.’ “Now, I’m not saying I can’t be a man to you. I just don’t want these high expectations. You’re gonna have to downgrade for me, princess.”
“Bernard, you’re wearing a Ralph Lauren button up and shorts and Louboutin sandals with Louis Vuitton sunglasses. It seems to me you have an extravagant lifestyle, but I guess it’s one that doesn’t include vacationing to explore outside of the U.S. and tipping waiters.”
Bernard screws his mouth as he reaches over the table to get into my face and mutters, “I ain’t your StentRo!”
I snort as I shake my head. “You sure aren’t. Neither are you fit to be my partner, penny-pinching, yet show-boating the way you do.”
He stands from the table. “I am who I am. You accept what you see or don’t accept me as your “partner.” You need to figure out if you can be a ride or die while I’m on my way up or I’ll be looking down on you while I’m at the top.” And he flopped away in his Red Bottoms.