Page 2 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

No. This can’t be happening. Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare?

“I was going to tell you tonight at dinner,” Asher says. “But then you were talking about the wedding plans and I had to stop you and tell you it was over.” He looks at me. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t marry someone who’s not right for me.”

“Not right for you?” I throw my hands up. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been together for four years! It took you all that time to figure out I wasn’t right for you?”

“I’m not the same guy I was four years ago. I’ve changed, and so have you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I still think you’re a great girl. Just not the girl for me.”

I yank away from him. “You asked me to marry you six months ago. Six months! You’re telling me you’ve changed that much in six months that you no longer want to marry me?”

“Getting married isn’t what I want right now. I need to focus on my career. I like my job and I’m good at it.” He smiles a little. “I got a promotion today. It came with a big pay increase.”

“Great,” I huff. “I’m sure you and your money will be very happy.” I stare back at the guy who just moments ago was my whole world, the person I’d planned to be with forever. “Is that really what you want? To be alone? Spend all your time at work?”

“For now, yeah.” He says it so casually, like the last four years meant nothing. He’s not even showing any emotion. Do I mean so little to him that he can let me go without feeling even a little bit sad?

Tears are stinging my eyes, but I’m trying to hold them back. If Asher isn’t going to shed a tear over the end of our relationship, then I’m not either. He doesn’t deserve to see my tears. But I have no problem letting him see my anger.

“I gave up Paris for you!” I say, raising my voice. “And trips home to see my family! I missed my grandma’s birthday to go to your stupid work party!”

“You could’ve gone back to Chicago. I never said you couldn’t.”

“You never gave me the option. You told me you didn’t want to show up at the party without your fiancé, so I went. To support you. But if I’d known you were dumping me three months later, I would’ve gone to see my grandma!” I walk away from him, back to the kitchen to refill my wine.

“Trina, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t keep this going if I knew it was going to end.”

“When did you know?” I ask, pouring the wine in the glass.

“It wasn’t a specific day. It’s just over the last few months I realized how much we’ve changed. How much our goals have changed.”

“Meaning what? What goals?” I gulp the wine, the alcohol stinging my already burning throat.

“Like today. You lose your job, and instead of hurrying to find a new one, you decide you’d rather do nothing for the next few months.”

“I wasn’t going to do nothing,” I snap. “I was going to plan our wedding!”

“That’s not a job.”

“Actually, it is. Wedding planning is a business. People get paid to do it.”

“You know what I mean.” He joins me in the kitchen, stopping a few feet away from me. “You used to be ambitious. You used to want to have your own fashion label. Be a famous designer.”

“When I said that, I was still in school. I didn’t understand the industry. You don’t just start a label and become a famous designer. Almost no one makes it to that level.”

“The Trina I used to know would’ve at least tried. She wouldn’t have settled for an assistant’s job.”

“I took that job so we’d have time together. Do you know how many hours I’d have to work if I really wanted a chance to make my own designs? We never would’ve seen each other.”

“But that’s my point. I’m willing to put in the extra hours and do whatever it takes to get ahead. You’re not. Like with the job in Paris. You never should’ve turned down an opportunity like that.”

“I did that foryou! For us! When I was offered that job, we were talking about getting married. We’d just moved in together. If I’d left, we would’ve broken up!”

“It’s in the past. We don’t need to talk about it.” He checks his watch. “We need to talk about other things.”

“Like what?” I pick up my wine glass. “How you lied about wanting to marry me?”

“We need to talk about your living arrangements.”

I was about to sip my wine, but stop and lower my glass. “What about my living arrangements?”

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