Page 126 of Love, Luck & Clusterf*ck

That weasel probably got the news during his meetings on Friday, but had failed to mention it. Not that we had a lot of time for chitchat considering the events, but… had all this been premeditated? He knew he was leaving and wouldn’t have to face seeing me on Monday. He probably planned to get me into his bed even before everything went down with Stu.

I plopped hard into my chair. This was good; I could feel a raging spark coming on. Shit, it was gone already. I was back to feeling dragged through the mud. Stephen was one of the best people I’d ever known. How could he do this to me?

“Good morning.”

I looked over at Kate. “Hi.”

“Ready for Monday?” she asked.

“Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be.” I busied myself with logging on.

“Hey, too bad Bossman’s gone, right? Just when I was getting used to having him around.”

A bubble of laughter shot out my mouth, and she looked at me strangely. “I’m glad… that Krismer’s wife is better,” I said.

“You okay?” I shrugged. I didn’t even bother lying to say that I would be. Her line rang then, and right before she answered she leaned over and whispered, “This isn’t over.”

Too bad the day was busy enough so she couldn’t make good on her promise. She’d always teased me about Stephen, saying we had some secret tryst going on, but I’d waved her off. Yeah, I’d loved him, but there’d never been anything clandestine about it. Until Friday. Damn, I wished it were Friday again.

How odd that less than twenty-four hours before I was on such a high, and now I was swimming in muck. Life was fucking hilarious that way.

The bright spot of my day was lunchtime. I’d put down my deposit on the apartment and could start moving in anytime. That’d keep meoccupied for a while.

Stephen never called or texted again, and I’d never called or texted him back. It was a wash. Did I want him to try reaching out to me? Only so I could reject him. I at least wanted that option.

I gave myself a pat on the back when my longer day ended. The overtime would come in handy since I had a ton of furniture to buy. I should ask if I could do it more often.

I just had to keep busy. That was the magic formula. If I never let myself stop to think, I’d never figure out that all I was really doing was fooling the shit out of myself.

At the end of the week, I received my diploma for Master Pretender. Everything was pink jellybeans and life-sized gummy bears. If I’d auditioned for the role, I could’ve won the adult video award for best fake orgasmic scream. Life was fucking great.

Except it wasn’t.

Stephen had called exactly once midweek. One call, no message, no text afterwards. I hadn’t returned it. He’d never even sent an interoffice e-mail referencing policy nonsense or anything equally stupid. If it weren’t for that one missed call on my cell, it would’ve been like he’d ceased to exist. I was okay with that.

Except I wasn’t.

My tat was healing nicely. Unlike other recent choices I’d made, I hadn’t regretted that one in the least. Every time I looked at the ink on my skin, I felt optimistic. Happiness was waiting for me as soon as my heart righted itself from inside out. Which should be any day now.

Except I was full of shit.

Little by little, I was getting settled into my apartment. I’d purchased an inexpensive bed that was way too small but comfortable enough, especially if I curled into a ball, and a secondhand dresser. My sister had given me an old table and chairs she had in the basement without Paul knowing, and I was still working on getting a couch. It was coming along slowly, but considering I’d started at zero, I was pretty proud of myself. This was the first time in my life that I was one hundred percent on my own without a roommate to fall back on. I’d even held a job for four months with no impulse to jump ship. I finally felt like a fucking grown-up.

I’d also realized how much of a blessing it’d been that Stephen had gone back to the corporate building when he did. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. If I would’ve had to continue seeing him every day, there was no way I’d have been this well-adjusted.

Right.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

A woman who is so delusional her eyes would be brown if they weren’t already.

“You are going out next Friday, right?”

I glanced over at Kate, scrunching up my face. “Friday?” They usually shot for Thursdays.

“Yes, Friday! Do not tell me you forgot.”

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