Page 50 of Friend Zoned

“The douchebag,” is all she says.

I rub underneath my eyes with the bottom of my hands and sigh.

“He called again? Ugh! I’ll get rid of him. Put him through,” I tell her, already mentally prepping myself to deal with this asshole.

“He’s here,” she whispers. “He’s not alone. He’s with the whore. She looks pretty miserable, if that’s any consolation. I think she’d rather face a firing squad than be here.”

It’s not a consolation. I simply don’t care. I’m sure this trip is Quintin’s idea of sticking it to me by parading around his pregnant girlfriend or whatever the hell she is to him. The very idea that the man who cheated on me with my friend has convinced himself that he’s the injured party seems like a twisted joke. I lean back in my chair, cover my face with both hands and let out a belly laugh.

“Have you gone insane?” Layla asks. “Let me call my cousin June Bug. He’ll take care of the douchebag.”

I laugh harder. “No need to bother June Bug. Doesn’t he already have a felony on his record?”

“Nah. It was dropped down to a misdemeanor, but even if he doesn’t do it himself, he knows people.”

“Pass,” I tell her.

“What about his friend Bay Bay?” When I give her a blank stare, she says, “Okay, I’ll leave it alone for now. Anyway, Eve is dealing with the douchebag and the whore.” I nod, unbothered and unconcerned by them both. If he wants to waste his time coming here to try and get a reaction from me, let him. It’s his time to waste, not mine.

Layla opens the door to leave, only to nearly collide with Quintin, who has his hand up, ready to knock. I should have known if he took the time to come down here, he wouldn’t just leave without trying to shit on my day. He walks past Layla without an invitation. Layla closes the door, but she doesn’t leave. She crosses her arms and leans against the wall.

“It’s okay, Layla. I’ll see you in a bit.” She leaves, but I know her; I know she’s only going as far as the other side of my office door. Once the door closes behind her, Quintin approaches my desk. I don’t look up at him while I review invoices.

“Can I help you?” I ask without looking up.

“Camille and I are here to finalize things for the shower.” I arch an eyebrow and finally look at him. He looks awful. He’s dressed well, and I’m assuming underneath his long wool coat is a three-piece suit, but his face looks rounder than before. His eyes also look hollow.

“Great, but Eve is handling that. Please go to her with any questions or concerns. Close my door behind you.” I turn my face back to my computer screen. He doesn’t do as I’ve asked. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair in front of my desk. I was right. He’s in a navy-blue suit. I know that suit. He’s had that since we were married, but it doesn’t fit him as well as it used to. It looks a little tight.

My mind flashes to my man and how well his body fits into those bespoke suits he wears. Or a pair of jeans. Or how good he looks when he’s wearing nothing at all. All I can think about is how long I have to wait to have him naked in bed with me again.

“Listen, Jeanine,” Quintin says. For a second, I consider taking Layla up on her offer to call June Bug. “Despite everything, I still care about you.”

I scoff but don’t answer. “I do,” he continues. “I don’t want things to be awkward. I want us to simply co-exist.” He’s doing his best to look sincere, but I know him. I know from the slight narrowing of his eyes, he’s only here to try and twist the knife he’s already stuck in my back.

I wonder if this is all because I got the apartment out of the divorce. Would he be out of my hair if I didn’t go for it? Deep down, I know the answer is no. He wants me to still be hurting over his deception, and he can’t understand why I’m not. Quintin always has to win at whatever he’s doing. This all started because I decided to go back to school and get a master’s degree. He didn’t want me to do it, and looking back now, I think he viewed my getting an education as a threat to his status in the marriage. Now, I realize how much he needed me to be less educated than him. He didn’t want an equal partner. He wanted someone inferior to him.

“Well, please stop wasting your time caring about me. I assure you the feeling is not mutual.”

“You still hate me, Jeanine?” Another thing that irritates me is that he never called me Jeannie. It’s always Jeanine, despite knowing I prefer the former. I know he wants me to hate him. If I hate him, he will feel as if he has power over me.

“Still? I’ve never hated you, Quintin. That requires time and effort that you don’t deserve. What I’d like is for you to leave my office so I can get back to work.” The question I want to ask is why he and Camille are planning their own baby shower, but I already know the answer. Besides, if I ask, he’ll think I care when I don’t.

“That sounds pretty hateful.” When I don’t answer, he says, “Anyway, the baby is a boy.”

He’s sitting there in his tight suit looking smug when he has no need to be. I give him a blank stare and make sure not to react. The only thing I feel is empathy for that poor baby who will be stuck with a douchebag and a whore for parents. A small chuckle slips out because I know Layla would be pleased by my thoughts.

Some of his smugness slips when I fail to react. “You know how much I’ve always wanted a son,” he says. My blank stare continues. “Just not with you.” And there it is. That’s the knife he wanted to twist. A year after we got married, I wanted to start a family, but he wanted to wait. That’s the one thing I’m grateful for. That we don’t have any connection between us. Camille is not so lucky.

“Thank goodness, Quintin, for that favor. I can’t imagine sharing a child with someone like you.”

He stands and I hope he leaves. The next time I see him, I won’t be this polite.

Layla comes walking back into my office with two burly guys behind her, holding takeout bags.

“You have a food delivery,” she says with a wide grin. She crosses the room and hands me a folded piece of paper.

A little something to make your first day back to work more tolerable. Miss you, Aid.

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