Page 45 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
I painted those walls, built all those bookcases that I filled with my books. I ordered all those little end tables and decor pieces, throw pillows and blankets. I put most of my things that I wanted to take to Brett’s in a box and left the furniture for the next person who leased my apartment, which my landlord was more than appreciative about. I didn’t see the need to take it with me, and seeing as Brett said I could refurbish and design the rooms to give them a “woman’s touch,” I focused all my energy on the new things. Not the old.
Now I’m wondering if maybe I should have gotten a storage unit or something. Because I havenothing.No place, no furniture, not even a box full of clothes.
Clothes…yeah, I should probably get some clothes, at least for the next few days until I figure something out. Until I can muster up the courage to talk to Brett. I went over to Michael’s in my dress, and all I had on me in my car was an emergency outfit of jeans, a shirt, a hoodie and some socks and tennis shoes. I’ve got the dress and heels Abby lent me, which I know I’ll need to give back at some point, and of course I’ve got my stolen Rush sweats, tee, and underwear.
Yeah…it might not be a bad idea to get some real clothes until I can get my closet full of clothes from Brett’s.
I know I could just go over there—show up unannounced, since I still have a key and he hasn’t exactly asked for it back or anything, and I doubt he’s changed the locks. Brett is a lot of things, but I don’t think he’d do something like that.
Still, part of me is terrified I’ll show up and he’ll be there, cock buried in that woman or someone else again. Pumping her full of his cum instead of me.
And waiting until he leaves for a game or practice feels sketchy, even to me. Creeping around like some criminal, which I’m certainly not.
The thought makes me ill. Not just because of his lies or what he said tome, but…because even though it’s stupid, and even though we’ve had plenty of sex, it feels like his sleeping with her is more than a direct insult. Combined with the comments he made in the last few weeks—about the fact that I gained a few pounds over the last few months—it feels like a deeper cut.
Like I’m not prettyenough.Skinnyenough.
Like he’s just not physically attracted to me anymore or something.
Maybe that’s not true, but I can’t help but think there’s some bit of truth there given the fact that he hasn’t spoken to me at all, or tried to preserve or fight for our relationship.
So, I pull into the parking lot and head toward La Femme, the boutique at the end of the strip mall, next to the Cool Cat Café.
It’s been a while since I bought myself something new to wear, and I guess now is as good a time as any. Isn’t that what all the girls in the movies and books do when they get dumped? Head to the nearest boutique and give themselves a damn makeover? Buy a bunch of sexy clothes and get their hair and nails done and turn themselves into a damn sexpot to spark jealousy?
Maybe that’s what I need to do. Maybe I need to show Brett what he’s lost…
The thought settles for a moment until I see my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair is in disarray, and my makeup is smudged in the corner of my eyes. It almost looks like a smokey eye, but I know it’s just remnants from my night of mistakes.
My skin is pale, paler than usual, and even though I’ve put on a bit of makeup, I know I look less attractive than usual. I look hungover and depressed, and I think that maybe there isn’t anything to show anyone. Not right now, looking like this.
I know I can’t avoid Brett forever. I’ve barely had time to process what happened, let alone figure out what I want to say to him, even if it is just about getting my stuff back.
But there’s also a part of me that still hopes maybe, just maybe…he’ll realize the mistake he’s made, and he’ll come back. To me.
But I can’t think about such things right now. I can’t let myself wander down that road.
One thing at a time, Nora.
I browse through the racks of La Femme and settle on a few shirts and sweaters as well as a couple pairs of jeans when I hear my name and stop.
“Nora?”
I turn, surprised to see a familiar face standing before me. Tall, dark, and handsome with those familiar green eyes, my stomach does a little flip.
“Flash.” I swallow. “I mean…Freddie.”
He smirks, and I’m immediately taken back to earlier today, how he offered me a ride first, offered me breakfast…and of course, my memory of last night resurfaces too.
Of his stern command. Those two little words that made my insides turn to molten lava.
Good girl.
I try to push away the thought, the memory of those words and how they made me feel, because I don’t need to ruin another pair of underwear. Maybe I should grab a few pairs of those too, while I’m here. Just in case.
“What uh…what are you doing here?”
Suddenly I feel self-conscious in my jeans and T-shirt, though I know there’s no reason to feel self-conscious in front of Freddie.
