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“Are you okay, boss?”Rich asked as Evangeline stepped from the club. She glanced at him briefly before looking away.
“I’m fine,” she snipped, crossing her arms in defiance. She felt as if her heart were going to fall out of her chest.
“Are you—” Rich started, pausing when she rounded on him, her teeth bared.
“Don’t fucking ask me that again if you want to keep your job.”
He stepped down, busying himself by looking at the tablet in his hand.
She turned away. She couldn’t stay here. She had to get out, get away…
Taking off down the street, she wiped angrily at the tears burning down her cheeks. She could do nothing to stop the sting in her throat though. She heard a moan, not realizing it was her own mouth making the sound. Arriving at her apartment, she opened the door as quickly as she could, ashamed that anyone might find her like this…
Angry.
Confused.
Broken.
Beau had broken her again, only this time it wasn’t his words that had done the damage. No, it had beenherwords that had torn down her pieced-together heart, shattering it once more. She clutched at her chest, the pain tearing through her not a physical one. This pain, thisagony,was purely emotional, but she doubted she could come back from it this time.
The tears were streaming more quickly now, her chest heaving as her lungs tried to draw in breath. She had only cried once before like this, and she’d vowed she’d never let anyone get this close again, to make her hurt like this again.
She half-turned and punched the wall, letting out her frustrations if only for a moment.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fuck!” She stalked off into her bedroom where she could make as much noise as she wanted without disturbing the old witch next door. Kicking off her shoes and stripping down to nothing, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had a sudden desire to wash off the smell of Beau that was still clinging to her skin.
Beau…
He had lied to her.
It wasn’t this lie that hurt her though. It was the first one, the one that led her to give in to him again, to try and take back some of what they had four years ago.
Evangeline got into the shower, hissing when the too-hot water hit her skin. She scrubbed herself until she was raw. She didn’t want a scrap of him to remain on her. It was a pity she couldn’t scrub her memories away at the same time.
There was something that would help her forget.
Shutting off the water, she toweled off, then threw on a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt. In the kitchen she found her salvation in the shape of a bourbon bottle. Twisting off the cap, she took a drink, then another, then another.
She drank until she couldn’t see straight, and even then, she wasn’t satisfied. She needed more, but nobody would serve her this fucking drunk.
“Natasha,” she slurred, holding her finger up in the air like it was the idea of the century. Her best friend would bring her liquor. She began searching for her phone, only realizing after fifteen minutes of searching on her hands and knees that she only thought to pick up her keys—not her phone—when she left the office.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzz.
Her head jerked up at the sound.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
She laughed, the sound almost delirious to her own ears.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzz.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fuck you, Mrs. Crocker,” she muttered under her breath as she got up and went to the buzzer beside the door. “Please tell me that’s you, Natasha, and you have a couple of dozen bottles of bourbon stashed in your Fendi handbag.” She let go of the button, resting her head on the wall. She waited for whoever was on the other side of the intercom to reply.
