Page 106 of The Billionaire Mismatch

“You know me,” she says grittily. “Humble as fuck.”

We both laugh and that’s the end of that. We hug, and Henry sighs with relief. But it still doesn’t change the fact that there is a gaping hole in my heart. Both my friends seem to notice it and smile at me empathetically.

“Have you heard from him?” Kiersten asks, and I shake my head.

“Has he called?” Henry asks. Another shake.

“So call him,” Kiersten says. “Why do you have to wait for him to call?”

“I have called him,” I admit. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple meaning…” Henry trails.

“At least five,” I say.

“And he’s just ghosting you,” Henry shakes his head. “How fitting.”

“I think it’s bullshit,” Kiersten says. “I mean, how did he not know you worked for a dating podcast?”

“He did know,” I say. “He just didn’t know he was the subject of the catfish series.”

“Okay well, didn’t he listen to the last episode?” she asks.

“I told him to,” I say.

“And he’s still being a dick,” Henry shakes his head.

“I get it,” I sigh. “He’s mad. I used him and he’s hurt.”

“Um, excuse me,” Kiersten cuts in. “He used you too. And hurt you too. This was not one sided so the fact that Mr. Emotionally Unavailable is putting it all on you is bullshit.”

“What can I say?” I ask. “He’s a guy. No offense, Henry.”

“None taken because I would never,” Henry says. “If I was in love, which I think he clearly was, I would want to know the motive. Why you were leading him to believe you loved him while also leading a podcast dedicated to ruining his life.”

“I wasn’t leading him on,” I argue. “And I certainly didn’t want to ruin his life.”

“Well, we know that,” Henry says matter-of-factly. “But does he?”

“I tried to tell him,” I say, growing exhausted from the conversation. Honestly, I am just exhausted.

* * *

That night, I sit on my couch with a beer. I’m not usually a beer drinker. It’s not that I don’t like it; I just prefer wine. But wine reminds me of Luca and makes me want to cry because I really don’t know what else to do.

I look over at Vivien Leigh, who doesn’t have much to say. Not that she ever does. But this time her beady little eyes are extra critical.

“Don’t judge me,” I tell her as I help myself to another glass of beer. “I am really, really tired of people judging me right now.”

Vivien blinks, and I point at her.

“Seriously, Viv. I am two seconds away from renaming you Scarlett. Don’t you think I won’t.”

Vivien sighs and lays her head down, closing her judgy eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” I say before taking another sip of wine. I am on my third glass and I don’t care. I don’t care that I’m getting a bit sloppy. I don’t care that I’m going to sleep like the dead (either that or bent over the toilet) and I don’t care that I am going to be hung over AF tomorrow. Hell, maybe I’ll just call in sick. Tomorrow’s episode is a real life story about a cancer survivor who fell in love with her nurse. Kiersten’s got it.

With that, I chug half the glass and close my eyes, letting my spinning head fall back on the couch. The room spins for a moment, and I squeeze my eyes shut, which doesn’t help.