WORK IN PROGRESS: Dinner Disasters: Sebastian and Layana

Chapter 9 (Sebastian): Another Mistake

How I could ruin what should have been the happiest time of our lives was something that would forever haunt me and fuck with my head. 

My wife's normally bright eyes turned dull and dim as she told me how she'd cried when she'd gotten a positive pregnancy test result. Something we'd wanted for so long was a source of sadness to her because of me and the things I'd done. Honestly, I would have preferred her stabbing me in the heart because it would have hurt less than seeing the confusion and distrust and just raw pain on her face. Seeing the consequences of my actions was like the hardest kick in the balls.

Seeing that I'd failed my wife in order to succeed in business was especially gutting. I could look back on all the steps where I went wrong and pinpoint them: Yep. Fucked up there. And there. And there.

My problem is I don't see anyone but Layana. My life is divided into Layana, our mutual friends and work, with Layana comprising about ninety-five percent of the pie. If you aren't Layana, you're probably work, and if you're work, you're there because I'm trying to make the best life possible for Layana.

So with that goal in mind, I'd been working my ass off for the last five years, building the business slowly and steadily. And then a year ago, Renee had appeared at a monthly networking luncheon I attended and was waiting for me to finish talking with a couple who owned a small business similar to mine. They'd been trying to pull me into some joint ventures they thought would benefit us both but so far, none of the projects had been the fit that I'd been looking for, so I'd continued to turn them down. Undeterred, they kept coming back with different opportunities. Today, they'd talked about another venture and since this one had serious potential for my company, we'd set up a meeting for later in the week. When they'd turned to leave, I had, too, and had almost run into Renee.

"Sebastian Varon?" she asked using that odd inflection people had when they saw you at a twenty-year high school reunion and you'd all...changed from your eighteen-year-old selves so you weren't quite sure if it was the star quarterback or not.

"Yes."

She was looking at me expectantly.

"It's me." Seeing no recognition in my eyes, she continued. "Renee?"

I felt like shit, but had no clue who she was, which surprised me because I knew just about everyone in our monthly networking group, and the newcomers I made sure to introduce myself to right away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to apologize because I can't place where I know you from. Were you at the networking meeting last month?"

Her face fell before she smiled, but it was a little off. "You seriously don't remember me?"

Shit. Why couldn't people just introduce themselves without playing this stupid fucking remember me game?

"From college?" she tried again.

I shook my head. "I'm so sorry. I have a terrible memory for faces." 

"We dated for a week, Sebastian! I'm not just some random face."

Fuck. We had? 

"Renee Hampton? We dated during rush week in our sophomore year. You were in Theta Delta Theta. Then you broke up with me after rush week."

I had a vague memory of breaking up with a girl but I only remembered the reaction and not the girl because she'd had a very bad reaction to it -- a lot of screaming and crying, which was not unsurprising following an alcohol-fueled rush week. Everyone was off and emotions were high and breakups were prevalent.

 Renee and I talked a few minutes about her business and how she ended up in this city, and then I excused myself to get back to the office for a meeting. And I'd promptly forgotten her until she showed up at the next month's networking meeting. She'd approached me with a business opportunity that sounded good, and we'd met to discuss it over lunch. The return potential wasn't what I was looking for so I'd declined.