Page 2 of Christmas in Comets Valley
There was something about living vicariously through the highlight reels of the friends and acquaintances I used to hang out with that made me feel like we were still connected in a way.
Oh look, Barrett acquired another business.Scroll. Stella was moving to Chicago.Scroll.Samira won another golf tournament.Scroll. Tye was engaged.Sc—
Tye waswhat?
I thumbed my way through the carousel of images half a dozen times to ensure I wasn’t hallucinating—spoiler alert; I wasn’t—before re-reading the caption a second time.
Proposed to my beautiful fiancée, Candace, on our one-year anniversary. Wedding next summer. You’re all invited! #TyeingTheKnot
Tye was engaged.
En—fucking—gaged.
Ten monthsafter we ended ourten-yearrelationship? Based on that fact alone, I guessed it took him—what?—half a business day to grieve our relationship before moving on.
It took the guy eight years to propose to me and another two of avoiding the topic of wedding planning and now he was engaged to this—this whore!
Before I could fully process what was happening, I was out of bed and pacing back and forth on an endless loop in front of the footboard. I racked my brain trying to come up with a scenario to explain the monstrosity that was my life.
Shit, I really needed to stop hanging out with my sister-in-law. Her pacing problem was really starting to rub off on me.
I took a deep breath to gather my composure.
Tye was engaged. With a wedding date set. While I, on the other hand, couldn’t spend five minutes alone with my thoughts before seeking a distraction. And this entire time he’d been out there happily moved on for… how long? I reread the caption again and my jaw dropped open.
How were they celebrating their one-year anniversary?We broke uptenmonths ago!
Obviously, I knew the guy was a cheater, but getting into a new relationship two months before ours ended… that was low, even for him. And to add an extra splash of drama to the pot, his new fiancée wasn’t even the secretary I found him fucking in his office.
How many other women had there been before I caught him?
Nope, nope. I quickly retracted the thought as bile rose in my throat.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking, fuck!” I screamed to no one and the sound of my rage echoed off the walls of my room.
Shit, I guessed I needed to stop hanging out with my brother, too. The guy used the word “fuck” like it was the only one in the dictionary and apparently I’d adopted his nasty habit.
I let out a pent-up breath and slumped down onto the edge of the bed, hanging my head in my hands.
I hated myself for not figuring out his lies sooner. And even worse, for still caring about him all these months later. But when you already wasted a third of your life on someone, what was another year of heartbreak added to the mix?
“Ughhh,” I groaned, flopping back onto the mattress.
I needed a break. A big fat break.
From work. From life. From everything.
Turning over to the nightstand, I let out a sigh as I reached to grab the purple-colored pill bottle I’d come to know well and twisted off the top. Shaking the bottle, I watched as two giant sleeping pills plopped into the palm of my hand.
There was no way I was getting to sleep on my own, and drowning myself in a bottle of tequila at this hour wasn’t an option. I couldnotbe hungover for our quarterly investor’s meeting tomorrow afternoon.
I grabbed the mostly empty glass of water from my nightstand to assist with chasing down the pill before slipping the silk eye mask over my eyes. Nuzzling underneath the duvet comforter, I waited until the sleeping pills worked their magic, eliciting a warm buzz of tranquility beneath my skin.
Using every thought-blocking technique in the book, I slowly, slowly began drifting to sleep. On the brink of slumber, I silently prayed to whatever gods may be that when I woke up in the morning, all of this would be a horrible dream.
* * *
BEEP.BEEP. BEEP.
