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“You’re responsible for your emotions,” she said instead. “Listen to them.”
I stood. “Well, that’s when I didn’t know what he’d done.”
“So your requirement now for a man is that he be infallible?”
It stung because it sort of sounded like what I’d said. “Stop trying cheer me up with logic.”
She took her plate to the sink. “I have to work, but I’ll be back tonight so we can gorge ourselves on ice cream and binge Netflix.” She pointed a warning finger. “No more drinking until I get back.”
CHAPTER45
Alexa
It had beena week since I walked out of the building on Central Park West, a week since I woke up with a warm body next to me, a week since I’d been happy. It had been a week since I’d been blissfully unaware that Evan had been pulling my life’s strings for years.
The flowers had started the next day.
I knew because Rita told me when I called in to say I needed to take the week off. I would have made it a month, if I could have afforded it.
Evan had also called every day, just once each day.
I’d told him not to, and he couldn’t even grant me that. I’d refused every call, but I hadn’t been able to quell the temptation to listen to the voicemails. I usually lasted an hour before giving in. They all said the same thing. He was sorry, and he missed me.
I knew Evan felt legitimately bad because his brother kept telling me. I accepted Noah’s calls because he hadn’t done anything to me, and I couldn’t be a total bitch.
Either Gwen or Rachel had come over every evening to keep me company. We’d indulged in ice cream and reruns on Netflix. I knew it was all a plot to keep me from resorting to my bottles of tequila again. Their concern was comforting, but it only distracted me from the ache in my chest until they left for the night. Then I was back to the cold loneliness of my empty apartment. I had a fresh carpet, and a new bed, but it still lacked warmth.
A knock had woken me this morning. It had been a messenger dropping a package at my door, no signature required, return address Central Park West.
I miss you,the card read. Inside was a package of new sheets for my bed—Evan’s brand of million-thread-count, soft-as-silk sheets. I hesitated a moment, but put the package in my closet, the one with the evil, black-eye-causing door.
Out of sight, out of mind. Those sheets would only remind me of the life I’d left behind. No way could I sleep on them without thinking back to Evan even more than I already did.
Evan, or the lack of Evan, dominated my thoughts whenever I was alone.
But I knew I’d done the right thing.
Mom had told me once that I should never settle for anything less than the best. I’d thought Evan passed that test, but it had been a lie.
His asshole worm of a buddy, Martin, had proven that by telling me the truth Evan had kept from me.
I left for my morning walk, and my thoughts became darker with every block. What had I accomplished in my life that hadn’t been engineered by Evan? Had Martin been right that it was an elaborately planned plot over years to land me in Evan’s bed?
I turned back before reaching my normal spot.
This sucked, I sucked, and I was changing things.
I would get back to work, finish my hours, get my CPA, and build the accounting business to help my fellow Brooklynites the way I’d planned. That company would be mine, and I’d be able to stand tall knowing I’d built it—not him, me.
* * *
Evan
“You gotta stop this shit,”my brother yelled at me. “At least sleep in the bed.”
It had been a week of the same thing. Noah would jostle me awake, yell at me, and take my booze away. I couldn’t even look at the bed, let alone sleep in it, without thinking of her, mourning her. Even the shower held memories I’d tried to scrub away.
“I’m fine,” I complained. I wasn’t fine, but I’d figured out how much whiskey I could down every night, getting myself properly drunk, but still having a hangover that could be managed in the morning.
