“Just to shower and get ready. And then I’ll come fetch you?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” I agreed.
“I’ll shower, too.”
Later, after Evan called to tell me that he was about to leave home, I texted him. Don’t forget your wallet this time! And what was his reply?
A laughing emoji. We arrived at the restaurant, a nicer place than usual, and the kids were thrilled. They were both dressed up, and there was a joy to them that I loved.
We ordered, with Evan ordering whichever appetizers, entrees, desserts, and drinks, racking up a bill so massive I could feel my stomach turning. As the waiter cleared our plates, I leaned over to Evan. “You’ve got this, right?” I whispered.
“I don’t have the money…”
His face froze. Then, like clockwork, he started patting his pockets, his expression shifting from confusion to mock horror. “Guess I forgot it in the other pair of jeans I thought I was going to wear,” he said with a sheepish chuckle.
I stared at him, my hands gripping the edge of the table. The kids were busy giggling over their milkshakes, blissfully unaware of the tension rising between us. “You’re joking,” I said flatly.
“Come on,” he said, flashing that familiar grin. “You can get this one, Nat. It’s just one dinner.
I’ll pay you back.”
I’d heard that line too many times. And this time? I was done.
What Evan didn’t know was that I’d come prepared. I stood up, grabbed my purse, and looked him dead in the eye. “No, Evan.
I won’t get this one.”
He blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not paying for this dinner,” I said, loud enough for the waiter to overhear. “You knew this was coming.
You’ve done this every time, and I’m done being your backup wallet.”
Evan’s face turned red as the kids looked up, startled. “What are you doing?” he hissed. I smiled politely at the waiter.
“Separate checks, please. Just for what I ordered. The rest is on him.”
The waiter nodded, clearly sensing the awkwardness.
Evan started to panic, patting his pockets again as if his wallet would magically appear. “You can’t just leave us here!” he said, his voice rising. “Watch me,” I replied.
I turned to Liam and Emma, who were watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, guys. But this isn’t fair to me.”
Then, I grabbed my coat and walked out of the restaurant, my heart pounding but my head held high.
Later that night, Evan called me, furious. “Natalie, you embarrassed me in front of my kids!” he shouted. “No, Evan,” I said calmly, closing the bottle of nail polish on my coffee table.
“You embarrassed yourself. You’ve been using me to pay for your meals for months, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
He launched into a tirade about how selfish I was, how I’d abandoned his children and left them hungry. “They were not hungry.
I’d never do that, Evan. You should’ve just brought your wallet, like I told you. Stop taking advantage of me, man.”
“You don’t understand, Natalie.
You’re not a parent. I’m a single parent, and I have the kids most of the time. Money’s tight.”
“And so is mine!” I snapped.
“I work two jobs, Evan. Two. And yet you’ve let me pay for every meal without so much as offering to pay me back.
That’s not a mistake, that’s a pattern.”
He fell silent, and for a moment, I thought he’d finally understood. But then he muttered something that shocked me. “Maybe we need to rethink how you treat my kids.
They deserve better.”
I laughed, bitter and tired. “No, Evan. They deserve better than a father who manipulates people to get what he wants.”
I hung up, blocked his number, and I haven’t looked back since.
Breaking up with Evan wasn’t just about the money. It was about respect. I deserve someone who sees me as a partner, not a meal ticket.
Someone who takes responsibility instead of making excuses. As for Evan? I hope he learned something from that dinner, and that his wallet has been getting a lot more use since I walked away.
