Page 3 of Dessert Flirt Repeat
“Come on, Becca. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but there’s no need to be cruel.”
I almost laugh, I’m so blown away by the entitlement in his words. “You cheated on me, andI’mthe one being cruel?”
He throws his arms up, clearly frustrated. “God. At least be reasonable. I’ll come by some other day and get the rest of my stuff. Right now all I’m asking for are my clothes.”
I don’t know if it’s the impatience in his tone or the annoyed look on his face or the fact that I’m still processing being cheated onandbroken up with, but something inside of me snaps. I dart to the bedroom, yank open the closet door, and randomly grab at his suits. I march back to the living room and chuck them out the open window, leaving a trail of whipped cream behind me.
“Becca, what the hell!” Ben runs over and hangs his head out the open window of our fourth-floor apartment.
He pivots back to me, his eyes wide and unblinking. “You threw my clothes onto the street!”
My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my throat. “I did,” I manage to say in a weirdly calm voice. “Wow…I…really did that.”
This is so un-vanilla of me. Vanilla girls are sweet and calm and accommodating and predictable…until you cheat on us, I guess.
I stare at Ben’s clothes scattered across the sidewalk, a strange mix of shocked, confused, and heartbroken.
He leaves in a huff of muttered curse words, slamming the door behind him. The clap of sound snaps me out of my haze. I rush over, lock the deadbolt, spin around, and fall back against the door. My brain feels like it’s on an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl. My thoughts are fuzzy and muddled.
How could this have happened? Ben is my dream guy—wasmy dream guy. I think back to how he’d surprise me with breakfast in bed on weekend mornings, how he’d gas up my car whenever he noticed it was nearing empty, how he’d surprise me by stocking up on my favorite coffee when he saw I was about to run out. How he cheered me on as I opened my ice cream shop just over a year ago. How, in the first six months that Sweet Cheeks was open, he spent his weekends and evenings working alongside me, refusing whenever I tried to pay him so I could save money instead of hiring help.
How is this guy the same guy who cheated on me?
Soon I’m crying so hard that I slide down to the floor. The dingy hardwood is cold on my bare butt, but I don’t bother to get dressed. I don’t have the energy to walk or even crawl to my bedroom closet to dress myself.
I stay slumped on the floor of my apartment, a pathetic naked pile of snot and whipped cream, and cry until I pass out.
Chapter2
Becca
Istare at my computer screen, too shocked to formulate words.
“Ms. Briarwood? Ms. Briarwood, are you still there?”
The customer service rep’s insistent tone jerks me out of my stupor. “Um, yes. Sorry.”
I press my eyes shut in an attempt to refocus, but as soon as I open my eyes and see my bank account balance, I’m rattled all over again.
“As I said before, there was a withdrawal made last night from the other name on this account. A Mr. Ben Holt.”
Just hearing him say those words out loud sends a wave of panic and fury through me. I had twenty thousand dollars in this account yesterday. But when I went to pay my bills this morning, I nearly vomited when I saw that my account had just $111 left in it.
Which meant only one thing: Ben emptied the account.
He and I opened this bank account together two years ago when we moved into this apartment to pay bills together. But when I started my business last year, I began using the account to save money to pay my ice cream shop bills too. Because of that, I was contributing the bulk of my earnings to that account. Ben hardly ever deposited money into it anymore. We even talked about taking his name off the account, but we were always too busy and never got around to it.
“I understand that, but I didn’t authorize him to make withdrawals from my account,” I say. “It wasn’t even his money in the account. It was all my money.”
A heavy sigh echoes from the other line.
“As I explained before, Ms. Briarwood, this is a joint account. Both of your names are on it, so that means you’re both authorized to make withdrawals and deposits. Neither of you needs permission from the other to access this account to withdraw or deposit money.”
My throat tightens with the urge to sob. “Of course, I know that, but this is an extenuating circumstance. We’ve just recently ended our relationship—the other night, actually.”
I think back to yesterday when I came home from work and saw that Ben had been by to get the rest of his stuff. He had taken the zebra plant next to the fireplace and the vacuum cleaner—both items I’d paid for. I was too exhausted and sad to do anything about it though. I figured if he wanted them that bad, he could have them. But for him to steal my money? How could he be so selfish and greedy?
“I hadn’t gotten around to dividing our assets, so I’m just really shocked and frustrated to find out that all of the money—all ofmymoney is gone.” I speak so quickly and frantically that I wonder if the bank customer service rep can even understand me. But if I slow down, the urge to cry hits, and the last thing I want is to break down sobbing to a complete stranger.
